About this time, an elderly woman of the village came to live as servant at the parsonage.  She remained there, as a member of the household, for thirty years; and from the length of her faithful service, and the attachment¹ and respect which she inspired, is deserving of mention.  Tabby was a thorough specimen² of a Yorkshire woman of her class, in dialect, in appearance, and in character.  She abounded³ in strong practical sense and shrewdness.  Her words were far from flattery; but she would spare no deeds in the cause of those whom she kindly⁴ regarded.  She ruled the children pretty sharply; and yet never grudged⁵ a little extra trouble to provide them with such small treats as came within her power.  In return, she claimed to be looked upon as a humble⁶ friend; and, many years later, Miss Brontë told me that she found it somewhat difficult to manage, as Tabby expected to be informed of all the family concerns, and yet had grown so deaf that what was repeated to her became known to whoever might be in or about the house.  To obviate⁷ this publication of what it might be desirable to keep secret, Miss Brontë used to take her out for a walk on the solitary⁸ moors⁹; where, when both were seated on a tuft of heather, in some high lonely place, she could acquaint the old woman, at leisure, with all that she wanted to hear.

 

Tabby had lived in Haworth in the days when the pack-horses went through once a week, with their

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