nt for
drawing. I have seen an oil painting of his, done I know not when, but
probably about this time. It was a group of his sisters, life-size,
three-quarters' length; not much better than sign-painting, as to
manipulation; but the likenesses were, I should think, admirable. I
could only judge of the fidelity with which the other two were depicted,
from the striking resemblance which Charlotte, upholding the great frame
of canvas, and consequently standing right behind it, bore to her own
representation, though it must have been ten years and more since the
portraits were taken. The picture was divided, almost in the middle, by
a great pillar. On the side of the column which was lighted by the sun,
stood Charlotte, in the womanly dress of that day of gigot sleeves and
large collars. On the deeply shadowed side, was Emily, with Anne's
gentle face resting on her shoulder. Emily's countenance struck me as
full of power; Charlotte's of solicitude; Anne's of tenderness. The two
younger seemed hardly to have attained their full growth, though Emily
was taller than Charlotte; they had cropped hair, and a more girlish
dress. I remember looking on those two sad, earnest, shadowed faces, and
wondering whether I could trace the mysterious expression which is said
to foretell an early death. I had some fond superstitious hope that the
column divided their fates from hers, who stood apart in the canvas, as
in life she survived. I liked to see that the bright side of the pillar
was towards _her_--that the light in the picture fell on _her_: I might
more truly have sought in her presentment--nay, in her living face--for
the sign of death--in her prime. They were good likenesses, however
badly executed. From thence I should guess his family augured truly that,
if Branwell had but the opportunity, and, alas! had but the moral
qualities, he might turn out a great painter.

The best way of preparing him to become so appeared to be to send him as
a pupil to the Royal Academy. I dare say he longed and yearned to follow
this path, principally because it would lead him to that mysterious
London--that Babylon the great--which seems to have filled the
imaginations and haunted the minds of all the younger members of this
recluse family. To Branwell it was more than a vivid imagination, it was
an impressed reality. By dint of studying maps, he was as well
acquainted with it, even down to its by-ways, as if he had lived there.
Poor