matters once readjusted at hastings, it was thought sterling's health had so improved, and his activities towards literature so developed themselves into congruity, that a permanent english place of abode might now again be selected,—on the southwest coast somewhere,—and the family once more have the blessing of a home, and see its lares and penates and household furniture unlocked from the pantechnicon repositories, where they had so long been lying.

clifton, by bristol, with its soft southern winds and high cheerful situation, recommended too by the presence of one or more valuable acquaintances there, was found to be the eligible place; and thither in this summer of 1839, having found a tolerable lodging, with the prospect by and by of an agreeable house, he and his removed. this was the end of what i call his "third peregrinity;"—or reckoning the west indies one, his fourth. this also is, since bayswater, the fourth time his family has had to shift on his account. bayswater; then to bordeaux, to blackheath and knightsbridge (during the madeira time), to hastings (roman time); and now to clifton, not to stay there either: a sadly nomadic life to be prescribed to a civilized man!

at clifton his habitation was speedily enough set up; household conveniences, methods of work, daily promenades on foot or horseback, and before long even a circle of friends, or of kindly neighborhoods ripening into intimacy, were established round him. in all this no man could be more expert or expeditious, in such cases. it was with singular facility, in a loving, hoping manner, that he threw himself open to the new interests and capabilities of the new place; snatched out of it whatsoever of human or material would suit him; and in brief, in all senses had pitched his tent-habitation, and grew to look on it as a house. it was beautiful too, as well as pathetic. this man saw himself reduced to be a dweller in tents, his house is but a stone tent; and he can so kindly accommodate himself to that arrangement;—healthy faculty and diseased necessity, nature and habit, and all manner of things primary and secondary, original and incidental, conspiring now to make it easy for him. with the evils of nomadism, he participated to the full in whatever benefits lie in it for a man.

he had friends enough, old and new, at clifton, whose intercourse made the place human for him. perhaps among the most valued of the former sort may be mentioned mrs. edward strachey, widow of the late indian judge, who now resided here; a cultivated, graceful, most devout and high-minded lady; whom he had known in old years, first probably as charles buller's aunt, and whose esteem was constant for him, and always precious to him. she was some ten or twelve years older than he; she survived him some years, but is now also gone from us. of new friends acquired here, besides a skilful and ingenious dr. symonds, physician as well as friend, the principal was francis newman, then and still an ardently inquiring soul, of fine university and other attainments, of sharp-cutting, restlessly advancing intellect, and the mildest pious enthusiasm; whose worth, since better known to all the world, sterling highly estimated;—and indeed practically testified the same; having by will appointed him, some years hence, guardian to his eldest son; which pious function mr. newman now successfully discharges.

sterling was not long in certainty as to his abode at clifton: alas, where could he long be so? hardly six months were gone when his old enemy again overtook him; again admonished him how frail his hopes of permanency were. each winter, it turned out, he had to fly; and after the second of these, he quitted the place altogether. here, meanwhile, in a letter to myself, and in excerpts from others, are some glimpses of his advent and first summer there:—

to his mother.

"clifton, june 11th, 1839.—as yet i am personally very uncomfortable from the general confusion of this house, which deprives me of my room to sit and read and write in; all being more or less lumbered by boxes, and invaded by servile domesticities aproned, handled, bristled, and of nondescript varieties. we have very fine warm weather, with occasional showers; and the verdure of the woods and fields is very beautiful. bristol seems as busy as need be; and the shops and all kinds of practical conveniences are excellent; but those of clifton have the usual sentimental, not to say meretricious fraudulence of commercial establishments in watering-places.

"the bag which hannah forgot reached us safely at bath on friday morning; but i cannot quite unriddle the mystery of the change of padlocks, for i left the right one in care of the head steam-engine at paddington, which seemed a very decent person with a good black coat on, and a pen behind its ear. i have been meditating much on the story of palarea's 'box of papers;' which does not appear to be in my possession, and i have a strong impression that i gave it to young florez calderon. i will write to say so to madam torrijos speedily." palarea, dr. palarea, i understand, was "an old guerilla leader whom they called el medico." of him and of the vanished shadows, now gone to paris, to madrid, or out of the world, let us say nothing!

to mr. carlyle.

"june 15th, 1839.—we have a room now occupied by robert barton [a brother-in-law]; to which anthony may perhaps succeed; but which after him, or in lieu of him, would expand itself to receive you. is there no hope of your coming? i would undertake to ride with you at all possible paces, and in all existing directions.

"as yet my books are lying as ghost books, in a limbo on the banks of a certain bristolian styx, humanly speaking, a canal; but the other apparatus of life is gathered about me, and performs its diurnal functions. the place pleases me better than i expected: a far lookout on all sides, over green country; a sufficient old city lying in the hollow near; and civilization, in no tumultuous state, rather indeed stagnant, visible in the rows of houses and gardens which call themselves clifton. i hope soon to take a lease of a house, where i may arrange myself more methodically; keep myself equably boiling in my own kitchen; and spread myself over a series of book-shelves.... i have just been interrupted by a visit from mrs. strachey; with whom i dined yesterday. she seems a very good and thoroughly kind-hearted woman; and it is pleasant to have her for a neighbor.... i have read emerson's pamphlets. i should find it more difficult than ever to write to him."

to his father.

"june 30th, 1839.—of books i shall have no lack, though no plethora; and the reading-room supplies all one can want in the way of papers and reviews. i go there three or four times a week, and inquire how the human race goes on. i suppose this turco-egyptian war will throw several diplomatists into a state of great excitement, and massacre a good many thousands of africans and asiatics?—for the present, it appears, the english education question is settled. i wish the government had said that, in their inspection and superintendence, they would look only to secular matters, and leave religious ones to the persons who set up the schools, whoever these might be. it seems to me monstrous that the state should be prevented taking any efficient measures for teaching roman catholic children to read, write and cipher, merely because they believe in the pope, and the pope is an impostor,—which i candidly confess he is! there is no question which i can so ill endure to see made a party one as that of education."—the following is of the same day:—

"to thomas carlyle, esq., chelsea, london.

"manor house, clifton place, clifton,

"30th june, 1839.

"my dear carlyle,—i have heard, this morning, from my father, that you are to set out on tuesday for scotland: so i have determined to fillip away some spurt of ink in your direction, which may reach you before you move towards thule.

"writing to you, in fact, is considerably easier than writing about you; which has been my employment of late, at leisure moments,—that is, moments of leisure from idleness, not work. as you partly guessed, i took in hand a review of teufelsdrockh—for want of a better heuschrecke to do the work; and when i have been well enough, and alert enough, during the last fortnight, have tried to set down some notions about tobacco, radicalism, christianity, assafoetida and so forth. but a few abortive pages are all the result as yet. if my speculations should ever see daylight, they may chance to get you into scrapes, but will certainly get me into worse.... but one must work; sic itur ad astra,—and the astra are always there to befriend one, at least as asterisks, filling up the gaps which yawn in vain for words.