finished, before Death intervened, and there he had to leave
it. Perhaps it will yet be given to the public; and in that case be
better received than the others were, by men of judgment; and serve to
put Sterling's Poetic pretensions on a much truer footing. I can say,
that to readers who do prefer a poetic diet, this ought to be welcome:
if you can contrive to love the thing which is still called "poetry" in
these days, here is a decidedly superior article in that kind,--richer
than one of a hundred that you smilingly consume.

In this same month of June, 1843, while the house at Ventnor was
getting ready, Sterling was again in London for a few days. Of course
at Knightsbridge, now fallen under such sad change, many private matters
needed to be settled by his Father and Brother and him. Captain Anthony,
now minded to remove with his family to London and quit the military
way of life, had agreed to purchase the big family house, which he still
occupies; the old man, now rid of that encumbrance, retired to a smaller
establishment of his own; came ultimately to be Anthony's guest, and
spent his last days so. He was much lamed and broken, the half of his
old life suddenly torn away;--and other losses, which he yet knew not
of, lay close ahead of him. In a year or two, the rugged old man, borne
down by these pressures, quite gave way; sank into paralytic and
other infirmities; and was released from life's sorrows, under his son
Anthony's roof, in the fall of 1847.--The house in Knightsbridge was,
at the time we now speak of, empty except of servants; Anthony having
returned to Dublin, I suppose to conclude his affairs there, prior to
removal. John lodged in a Hotel.

We had our fair share of his company in this visit, as in all the past
ones; but the intercourse, I recollect, was dim and broken, a disastrous
shadow hanging over it, not to be cleared away by effort. Two American
gentlemen, acquaintances also of mine, had been recommended to him, by
Emerson most likely: one morning Sterling appeared here with a strenuous
proposal that we should come to Knightsbridge, and dine with him and
them. Objections, general dissuasions were not wanting: The empty dark
house, such needless trouble, and the like;--but he answered in his
quizzing way, "Nature herself prompts you, when a stranger comes, to
give him a dinner. There are servants yonder; it is all easy; come; both
of you are bound to come." And accordingly we went. I remembe