From what quarter the wind blows I
cannot tell, for I never could in my life; but I should very much like
to know how the great brewing-tub of Bridlington Bay works, and what
sort of yeasty froth rises just now on the waves.
"A woman of the name of Mrs. B., it seems, wants a teacher. I wish
she would have me; and I have written to Miss W. to tell her so.
Verily, it is a delightful thing to live here at home, at full liberty
to do just what one pleases. But I recollect some scrubby old fable
about grasshoppers and ants, by a scrubby old knave yclept AEsop; the
grasshoppers sang all the summer, and starved all the winter.
"A distant relation of mine, one Patrick Branwell, has set off to seek
his fortune in the wild, wandering, adventurous, romantic,
knight-errant-like capacity of clerk on the Leeds and Manchester
Railroad. Leeds and Manchester--where are they? Cities in the
wilderness, like Tadmor, alias Palmyra--are they not?
"There is one little trait respecting Mr. W. which lately came to my
knowledge, which gives a glimpse of the better side of his character.
Last Saturday night he had been sitting an hour in the parlour with
Papa; and, as he went away, I heard Papa say to him 'What is the
matter with you? You seem in very low spirits to-night.
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