ure any one comes to be, who
does not as soon as possible bend his whole strength, as in stringing a
stiff bow, to doing whatever task lies first before him....

"We have a mist here to-day from the sea. It reminds me of that which I
used to see from my house in St, Vincent, rolling over the great volcano
and the mountains round it. I used to look at it from our windows with
your Mamma, and you a little baby in her arms.

"This Letter is not so well written as I could wish, but I hope you will
be able to read it.

"Your affectionate Papa,
"JOHN STERLING."

These Letters go from June 9th to August 2d, at which latter date
vacation-time arrived, and the Boy returned to him. The Letters are
preserved; and surely well worth preserving.

In this manner he wore the slow doomed months away. Day after day his
little period of Library went on waning, shrinking into less and less;
but I think it never altogether ended till the general end came.--For
courage, for active audacity we had all known Sterling; but such a fund
of mild stoicism, of devout patience and heroic composure, we did
not hitherto know in him. His sufferings, his sorrows, all his
unutterabilities in this slow agony, he held right manfully down;
marched loyally, as at the bidding of the Eternal, into the dread
Kingdoms, and no voice of weakness was heard from him. Poor noble
Sterling, he had struggled so high and gained so little here! But this
also he did gain, to be a brave man; and it was much.

Summer passed into Autumn: Sterling's earthly businesses, to the last
detail of them, were now all as good as done: his strength too was
wearing to its end, his daily turn in the Library shrunk now to a span.
He had to hold himself as if in readiness for the great voyage at any
moment. One other Letter I must give; not quite the last message I had
from Sterling, but the last that can be inserted here: a brief Letter,
fit to be forever memorable to the receiver of it:--

"_To Thomas Carlyle, Esq., Chelsea, London_.
"HILLSIDE, VENTNOR, 10th August, 1844.

MY DEAR CARLYLE,--For the first time for many months it seems possible
to send you a few words; merely, however, for Remembrance and Farewell.
On higher matters there is nothing to say. I tread the common road into
the great darkness, without any thought of fear, and with very much of
hope. C