f blame that one heard of his being ill again! Poor Sterling;--no man
knows another's burden: these things were not, and were not to be, in
the way we had fancied them!

Summer went along in its usual quiet tenor at Clifton; health good, as
usual while the warm weather lasted, and activity abundant; the scene
as still as the busiest could wish. "You metropolitan signors," writes
Sterling to his Father, "cannot conceive the dulness and scantiness of
our provincial chronicle." Here is a little excursion to the seaside;
the lady of the family being again,--for good reasons,--in a weakly
state:--

"_To Edward Sterling, Esq., Knightsbridge, London_.
"PORTSHEAD, BRISTOL, 1st Sept., 1840.

"MY DEAR FATHER,--This place is a southern headland at the mouth of the
Avon. Susan, and the Children too, were all suffering from languor; and
as she is quite unfit to travel in a carriage, we were obliged to move,
if at all, to some place accessible by water; and this is the nearest
where we could get the fresher air of the Bristol Channel. We sent to
take a house, for a week; and came down here in a steamer yesterday
morning. It seems likely to do every one good. We have a comfortable
house, with eight rather small bedrooms, for which we pay four guineas
and a half for the week. We have brought three of our own maids, and
leave one to take care of the house at Clifton.

"A week ago my horse fell with me, but did not hurt seriously either
himself or me: it was, however, rather hard that, as there were six legs
to be damaged, the one that did scratch itself should belong to the part
of the machine possessing only two, instead of the quadrupedal portion.
I grazed about the size of a halfpenny on my left knee; and for a couple
of days walked about as if nothing had happened. I found, however,
that the skin was not returning correctly; and so sent for a doctor: he
treated the thing as quite insignificant, but said I must keep my leg
quiet for a few days. It is still not quite healed; and I lie all day
on a sofa, much to my discomposure; but the thing is now rapidly
disappearing; and I hope, in a day or two more, I shall be free again. I
find I can do no work, while thus crippled in my leg. The man in Horace
who made verses _stans pede in uno_ had the advantage of me.

"The Great Western came in last night about eleven, and has just been
making a flourish past our windows; looking very grand, with