im, as was natural,
more and more; found in him, many ways, a beautiful acquisition to my
existence here. He was full of bright speech and argument; radiant with
arrowy vitalities, vivacities and ingenuities. Less than any man he gave
you the idea of ill-health. Hopeful, sanguine; nay he did not even seem
to need definite hope, or much to form any; projecting himself in aerial
pulses like an aurora borealis, like a summer dawn, and filling all the
world with present brightness for himself and others. Ill-health? Nay
you found at last, it was the very excess of _life_ in him that brought
on disease. This restless play of being, fit to conquer the world, could
it have been held and guided, could not be held. It had worn _holes_ in
the outer case of it, and there found vent for itself,--there, since not
otherwise.

In our many promenades and colloquies, which were of the freest, most
copious and pleasant nature, religion often formed a topic, and perhaps
towards the beginning of our intercourse was the prevailing topic.
Sterling seemed much engrossed in matters theological, and led the
conversation towards such; talked often about Church, Christianity
Anglican and other, how essential the belief in it to man; then, on
the other side, about Pantheism and such like;--all in the Coleridge
dialect, and with eloquence and volubility to all lengths. I remember
his insisting often and with emphasis on what he called a "personal
God," and other high topics, of which it was not always pleasant to give
account in the argumentative form, in a loud hurried voice, walking and
arguing through the fields or streets. Though of warm quick feelings,
very positive in his opinions, and vehemently eager to convince and
conquer in such discussions, I seldom or never saw the least anger in
him against me or any friend. When the blows of contradiction came too
thick, he could with consummate dexterity whisk aside out of their way;
prick into his adversary on some new quarter; or gracefully flourishing
his weapon, end the duel in some handsome manner. One angry glance I
remember in him, and it was but a glance, and gone in a moment. "Flat
Pantheism!" urged he once (which he would often enough do about this
time), as if triumphantly, of something or other, in the fire of a
debate, in my hearing: "It is mere Pantheism, that!"--"And suppose it
were Pot-theism?" cried the other: "If the thing is true!"--Sterling did
look hurt at such flippant heterodo