It continued so for some
years. The Sterling household shifted twice or thrice to new streets
or localities,--Russell Square or Queen Square, Blackfriars Road,
and longest at the Grove, Blackheath,--before the vapors of Wellesley
promotions and such like slowly sank as useless precipitate, and
the firm rock, which was definite employment, ending in lucrative
co-proprietorship and more and more important connection with the
_Times_ Newspaper, slowly disclosed itself.

These changes of place naturally brought changes in John Sterling's
schoolmasters: nor were domestic tragedies wanting, still more important
to him. New brothers and sisters had been born; two little brothers
more, three little sisters he had in all; some of whom came to their
eleventh year beside him, some passed away in their second or fourth:
but from his ninth to his sixteenth year they all died; and in 1821 only
Anthony and John were left. [5] How many tears, and passionate pangs,
and soft infinite regrets; such as are appointed to all mortals! In one
year, I find, indeed in one half-year, he lost three little playmates,
two of them within one month. His own age was not yet quite twelve. For
one of these three, for little Edward, his next younger, who died now
at the age of nine, Mr. Hare records that John copied out, in large
school-hand, a _History of Valentine and Orson_, to beguile the poor
child's sickness, which ended in death soon, leaving a sad cloud on
John.

Of his grammar and other schools, which, as I said, are hardly worth
enumerating in comparison, the most important seems to have been a Dr.
Burney's at Greenwich; a large day-school and boarding-school, where
Anthony and John gave their attendance for a year or two (1818-19) from
Blackheath. "John frequently did themes for the boys," says Anthony,
"and for myself when I was aground." His progress in all school learning
was certain to be rapid, if he even moderately took to it. A lean,
tallish, loose-made boy of twelve; strange alacrity, rapidity and joyous
eagerness looking out of his eyes, and of all his ways and movements.
I have a Picture of him at this stage; a little portrait, which carries
its verification with it. In manhood too, the chief expression of his
eyes and physiognomy was what I might call alacrity, cheerful rapidity.
You could see, here looked forth a soul which was winged; which dwelt
in hope and action, not in hesitation or fear. Anthony says, he was "an
affection