I had four children now. Charlotte, Branwell, Emily, and Anne. I did not send them to school again for many years. God（神）'s ways are hard to understand, I thought. Perhaps（也许） God（神） was not pleased（开心的） with me. Perhaps he wanted Maria and Elizabeth for himself（他自己）.

  I decided to keep the others at home. Aunt Branwell could teach them, and I could help when I had time. They were clever（聪明的） children, quick at learning. They loved to write（ 写） and draw and paint, and they talked all day long, and thank God they were not ill（有病的）. In the afternoons, my servant（仆人）, Tabby, took them for long walks on the moors（沼地） behind the house. They walked for miles on the hilltops in the strong, clean wind（风）, alone（单独地） with the birds and the sheep.

  I think it was good for them. They grew stronger, and there was a bright（明亮的） light in their eyes. I was not the only sad father in Haworth. Many, many children died, and I had to bury（埋葬） them all. The water in Haworth was bad, so many children died from illness（病）, and many more died from accidents（意外的）. I saw a hundred children die from fire.

  In my house, I was always very careful（仔细的）. I had no curtains（帘）, no carpets（地毯）, because I was afraid of fire. My children never wore cotton（棉） clothes, because they burned（烧） so easily（容易地）. One day, in 1826, I brought a box of toy（玩具） soldiers（军人） home from Leeds. Next morning, the children began to play games with them. "This one is mine（矿）," Charlotte said.

  "He's the Duke（公爵） of Wellington." "And this is mine," said Branwell. "He's Napoleon Bonaparte." The children liked the wooden（木制的） soldiers（军人） and began to tell a story about them. It was a very exciting story, I remember. They read it to me, and Aunt Branwell and Tabby, our servant.

  The next day, they invented（发明） another story, and then another. And then, for several（几个的） days, the children were very quiet, and I wondered（想知道） what they were doing. I went upstairs and opened their bedroom door. Inside（在里面）, they were all busily writing（ 写） or drawing on small pieces of paper. The wooden soldiers were in the middle（中部） of the room in front of them. "What are you doing?" I asked.

  Emily looked up. "Oh, Father, please go away," she said. "We're writing our secret（秘密的） books." I suppose（猜想） I looked sad. "What? Can't I see them?" I asked.

  They all thought for a minute. Then Charlotte said very seriously（严重地）, "You can see some of them, of course, Papa, but they aren't easy to read, because it's very small writing. We'll show them to you when we are ready." These toy soldiers opened a new world for my children. They showed me some of their stories, but there were hundreds（许多） that they kept secret（秘密的）. They all began writing so young. Charlotte, the oldest, was only ten, and Emily was eight.

  I don't think they ever stopped. Mr.Nichols has all Charlotte's little books now in a cupboard（碗柜） in his（他的） room. Some of them are no more than five or six centimetres（公分） high. They are beautifully（美丽地） made, and full of small pictures and tiny（微小的） writing. There is one on my desk now, but I can't read it. My eyes are too bad.

  Charlotte and Branwell wrote about a country called Angria, while（正当…的时候） Emily and Anne wrote（ 写） about a land called Gondal. The people in those countries fought（打(仗)） battles（战役） and fell in love and wrote（ 写） letters and poems. My children wrote these poems（诗） and letters, and they wrote books about Angria and Gondal. They drew maps of the countries, wrote newspapers about them, and drew pictures of the towns and people in their stories. They invented a new world for themselves（他们自己）. They wrote many of these stories when I was in bed.

  I used to read to the family and pray（ 祈祷） with them in the evening, and then I usually went to bed at nine o'clock. One night, I remember, I woke up and came down again at ten. There was a noise（喧闹声） in my room, this room where I am writing now. I opened the door and saw Charlotte and Branwell with a candle（蜡烛） looking at a picture on my wall. "What are you doing here?" I asked. "We're looking at the picture, Papa," Branwell said.

  "It's the Duke of Zamona and the Duke of Northumberland fighting in Glasstown." I looked at the picture. "It's here now behind me. It's a picture of a story in the Bible（《圣经》）, with a town, mountains, and hundreds of people in it." "What do you mean?" I asked. "It's one of our stories, Papa," Charlotte said. "We have to come in here to look at the picture. Then we invent what happens."

  "Tell me then," I said. They both looked very excited. Their faces were pink and their eyes were bright in the candlelight（烛火）. But they looked happy, too. I put my candle on the table and sat down here, where I am sitting now, to listen to their story. It was a wonderful story.

  Charlotte's wooden soldier, the Duke of Wellington, had had a son, Arthur, Duke of Zamona. Branwell's toy soldier, Bonaparte, had become the strong, bad, good-looking Duke of Northumberland. The two Dukes were fighting a terrible battle in a city called Glasstown. There were soldiers who died bravely（勇敢地） and beautiful women who fell in love. I listened until two o'clock in the morning. There was much more, but I have forgotten it now.

  But I remember the excitement（兴奋） in my children's faces. Sometimes I thought they could actually（实际上） see these people as（当…的时候） they talked. Next day they said no more about it, and I did not ask. It was their own secret world, and they did not let me into it again. But I was pleased they had told me about it once. And sometimes they showed me drawings（图画） of places in Angria or Gondal.

  All my children could draw and paint beautifully. Charlotte used watercolours and often spent hours painting small pictures. Branwell used oil（油） paints as（当…的时候） well.