fying glass.
They make in the whole twenty-two volumes, each volume containing from
sixty to a hundred pages, and all written in about fifteen months. The
quality strikes me as of singular merit for a girl of thirteen or
fourteen.

_II.--Girlhood of Charlotte Bronte_

In 1831, Charlotte Bronte was a quiet, thoughtful girl, nearly fifteen
years of age, very small in figure--stunted was the word she applied to
herself--fragile, with soft, thick, brown hair, and peculiar eyes. They
were large and well shaped, their colour a reddish brown, and if the
iris was closely examined, it appeared to be composed of a great variety
of tints. The usual expression was of quiet, listening intelligence, but
now and then, on some just occasion for vivid interest or wholesome
indignation, a light would shine out as if some spiritual lamp had been
kindled which glowed behind those expressive orbs. I never saw the like
in any other human creature. The rest of her features were plain, large,
and ill-set; but you were hardly aware of the fact, for the eyes and
power of the countenance overbalanced every physical defect. The crooked
mouth and the large nose were forgotten, and the whole face arrested the
attention, and presently attracted all those whom she would herself have
cared to attract. Her hands and feet were the smallest I ever saw; when
one of her hands was placed in mine it was like the soft touch of a bird
in the middle of my palm.

In January, 1831, Charlotte was sent to school again, this time as a
pupil of Miss Wooler, who lived at Roe Head, between Leeds and
Huddersfield, the surroundings being those described in "Shirley." The
kind motherly nature of Miss Wooler, and the small number of the girls,
made the establishment more like a private family than a school. Here
Charlotte formed friendships with Miss Wooler and girls attending the
school--particularly Ellen Nussey and Mary Taylor--which lasted through
life.

Writing of Charlotte at this time "Mary" says the other girls "thought
her very ignorant, for she had never learned grammar at all, and very
little geography, but she would confound us by knowing things that were
out of our range altogether. She said she had never played, and could
not play. She used to draw much better and more quickly than we had seen
before, and knew much about celebrated pictures and painters. She made
poetry and drawing very interesting to me, and then I got the habit I
have yet of referri