noticed in the concluding years; not patience" target="_blank" title="n.不耐烦，急躁">impatienceproperly, yet the

consciousness how much he needed patience; something more caustic in
his tone of wit, more trenchant and indignantoccasionally in his tone

of speech: but at no moment was his activity bewildered or abated,
nor did his composure ever give way. No; both his activity and his

composure he bore with him, through all weathers, to the final close;
and on the whole, right manfully he walked his wild stern way towards

the goal, and like a Roman wrapt his mantle round him when he
fell.--Let us glance, with brevity, at what he saw and suffered in his

remaining pilgrimings and chargings; and count up what fractions of
spiritual fruit he realized to us from them.

Calvert and he returned from Madeira in the spring of 1838. Mrs.
Sterling and the family had lived in Knightsbridge with his Father's

people through the winter: they now changed to Blackheath, or
ultimately Hastings, and he with them, coming up to London pretty

often; uncertain what was to be done for next winter. Literature went
on briskly here: _Blackwood_ had from him, besides the _Onyx Ring_

which soon came out with due honor, assiduous almost monthly
contributions in prose and verse. The series called _Hymns of a

Hermit_ was now going on; eloquent melodies, tainted to me with
something of the same disease as the _Sexton's Daughter_, though

perhaps in a less degree, considering that the strain was in a so much
higher pitch. Still better, in clear eloquent prose, the series of

detached thoughts, entitled _Crystals from a Cavern_; of which the set
of fragments, generally a little larger in compass, called _Thoughts

and Images_, and again those called _Sayings and Essayings_,[17] are
properly continuations. Add to which, his friend John Mill had now

charge of a Review, _The London and Westminster_ its name; wherein
Sterling's assistance, ardently desired, was freely afforded, with

satisfaction to both parties, in this and the following years. An
Essay on _Montaigne_, with the notes and reminiscences already spoken

of, was Sterling's first contribution here; then one on
_Simonides_:[18] both of the present season.

On these and other businesses, slight or important, he was often
running up to London; and gave us almost the feeling of his being

resident among us. In order to meet the most or a good many of his
friends at once on such occasions, he now furthermore contrived the

scheme of a little Club, where monthly over a frugal dinner some
reunion might take place; that is, where friends of his, and withal

such friends of theirs as suited,--and in fine, where a small select
company definable as persons to whom it was pleasant to talk

together,--might have a little opportunity of talking. The scheme was
approved by the persons concerned: I have a copy of the Original

Regulations, probably drawn up by Sterling, a very solid lucid piece
of economics; and the List of the proposed Members, signed "James

Spedding, Secretary," and dated "8th August, 1838."[19] The Club grew;
was at first called the _Anonymous Club_; then, after some months of

success, in compliment to the founder who had now left us again, the
_Sterling Club_;--under which latter name, it once lately, for a time,

owing to the Religious Newspapers, became rather famous in the world!
In which strange circumstances the name was again altered, to suit

weak brethren; and the Club still subsists, in a sufficiently
flourishing though happily once more a private condition. That is the

origin and genesis of poor Sterling's Club; which, having honestly
paid the shot for itself at Will's Coffee-house or elsewhere, rashly

fancied its bits of affairs were quite settled; and once little
thought of getting into Books of History with them!--

But now, Autumn approaching, Sterling had to quit Clubs, for matters
of sadder consideration. A new removal, what we call "his third

peregrinity," had to be decided on; and it was resolved that Rome
should be the goal of it, the journey to be done in company with

Calvert, whom also the Italian climate might be made to serve instead
of Madeira. One of the liveliest recollections I have, connected with

the _Anonymous Club_, is that of once escorting Sterling, after a
certain meeting there, which I had seen only towards the end, and now

remember nothing of,--except that, on breaking up, he proved to be
encumbered with a carpet-bag, and could not at once find a cab for

Knightsbridge. Some small bantering hereupon, during the instants of
embargo. But we carried his carpet-bag, slinging it on my stick, two

or three of us alternately, through dusty vacant streets, under the
gaslights and the stars, towards the surest cab-stand; still jesting,

or pretending to jest, he and we, not in the mirthfulest manner; and
had (I suppose) our own feelings about the poor Pilgrim, who was to go

on the morrow, and had hurried to meet us in this way, as the last
thing before leaving England.

CHAPTER VII.
ITALY.

The journey to Italy was undertaken by advice of Sir James Clark,
reckoned the chief authority in pulmonary therapeutics; who prophesied

important improvements from it, and perhaps even the possibility
henceforth of living all the year in some English home. Mrs. Sterling

and the children continued in a house avowedly temporary, a furnished
house at Hastings, through the winter. The two friends had set off

for Belgium, while the due warmth was still in the air. They
traversed Belgium, looking well at pictures and such objects; ascended

the Rhine; rapidly traversed Switzerland and the Alps; issuing upon
Italy and Milan, with immenseappetite for pictures, and time still to

gratify themselves in that pursuit, and be deliberate in their
approach to Rome. We will take this free-flowing sketch of their

passage over the Alps; written amid "the rocks of Arona,"--Santo
Borromeo's country, and poor little Mignon's! The "elder Perdonnets"

are opulent Lausanne people, to whose late son Sterling had been very
kind in Madeira the year before:--

"_To Mrs. Sterling, Knightsbridge, London_.
"ARONA on the LAGO MAGGIORE, 8th Oct., 1838.

"MY DEAR MOTHER,--I bring down the story of my proceedings to the
present time since the 29th of September. I think it must have been

after that day that I was at a great breakfast at the elder
Perdonnets', with whom I had declined to dine, not choosing to go out

at night.... I was taken by my hostess to see several pretty
pleasure-grounds and points of view in the neighborhood; and latterly

Calvert was better, and able to go with us. He was in force again,
and our passports were all settled so as to enable us to start on the

morning of the 2d, after taking leave of our kind entertainer with
thanks for her infinite kindness.

"We reached St. Maurice early that evening; having had the Dent du
Midi close to us for several hours; glittering like the top of a

silver teapot, far up in the sky. Our course lay along the Valley of
the Rhone; which is considered one of the least beautiful parts of

Switzerland, and perhaps for this reason pleased us, as we had not
been prepared to expect much. We saw, before reaching the foot of the

Alpine pass at Brieg, two rather celebrated Waterfalls; the one the
Pissevache, which has no more beauty than any waterfall one hundred or

two hundred feet high must necessarily have: the other, near
Tourtemagne, is much more pleasing, having foliage round it, and being

in a secluded dell. If you buy a Swiss Waterfall, choose this one.
"Our second day took us through Martigny to Sion, celebrated for its

picturesque towers upon detached hills, for its strong Romanism and
its population of _cretins_,--that is, maimed idiots having the

_goitre_. It looked to us a more thriving place than we expected.
They are building a great deal; among other things, a new Bishop's

Palace and a new Nunnery,--to inhabit either of which _ex officio_ I
feel myself very unsuitable. From Sion we came to Brieg; a little

village in a nook, close under an enormous mountain and glacier, where
it lies like a molehill, or something smaller, at the foot of a

haystack. Here also we slept; and the next day our voiturier, who had
brought us from Lausanne, started with us up the Simplon Pass; helped

on by two extra horses.
"The beginning of the road was rather cheerful; having a good deal of

green pasturage, and some mountain villages; but it soon becomes
dreary and savage in aspect, and but for our bright sky and warm air,

would have been truly dismal. However, we gained gradually a distinct
and near view of several large glaciers; and reached at last the high

and melancholyvalleys of the Upper Alps; where even the pines become
scanty, and no sound is heard but the wheels of one's carriage, except

when there happens to be a storm or an avalanche, neither of which
entertained us. There is, here and there, a small stream of water

pouring from the snow; but this is rather a monotonous accompaniment