rily footing the heavy tortuous ways
along with him, can follow him no farther; sinks now at his side: "The
rest of your pilgrimings alone, O Friend,--adieu, adieu!" She too
is forever hidden from his eyes; and he stands, on the sudden, very
solitary amid the tumult of fallen and falling things. "My little baby
girl is doing well; poor little wreck cast upon the sea-beach of life.
My children require me tenfold now. What I shall do, is all confusion
and darkness."

The younger Mrs. Sterling was a true good woman; loyal-hearted, willing
to do well, and struggling wonderfully to do it amid her languors and
infirmities; rescuing, in many ways, with beautiful female heroism and
adroitness, what of fertility their uncertain, wandering, unfertile
way of life still left possible, and cheerily making the most of it. A
genial, pious and harmonious fund of character was in her; and withal an
indolent, half-unconscious force of intellect, and justness and delicacy
of perception, which the casual acquaintance scarcely gave her credit
for. Sterling much respected her decision in matters literary; often
altering and modifying where her feeling clearly went against him; and
in verses especially trusting to her ear, which was excellent, while he
knew his own to be worth little. I remember her melodious rich plaintive
tone of voice; and an exceedingly bright smile which she sometimes had,
effulgent with sunny gayety and true humor, among other fine qualities.

Sterling has lost much in these two hours; how much that has long been
can never again be for him! Twice in one morning, so to speak, has a
mighty wind smitten the corners of his house; and much lies in dismal
ruins round him.

CHAPTER VI. VENTNOR: DEATH.

In this sudden avalanche of sorrows Sterling, weak and worn as we have
seen, bore up manfully, and with pious valor fronted what had come upon
him. He was not a man to yield to vain wailings, or make repinings at
the unalterable: here was enough to be long mourned over; but here,
for the moment, was very much imperatively requiring to be done. That
evening, he called his children round him; spoke words of religious
admonition and affection to them; said, "He must now be a Mother as well
as Father to them." On the evening of the funeral, writes Mr. Hare, he
bade them good-night, adding these words, "If I am taken from you, God
will take care of you." He had six children left to his charge, two of
them infants; and a dark