{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_1971/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_1971","id":"gutenberg_1971","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1971","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","Satire","Utopian fiction","Utopias -- Fiction"],"text":"EREWHON REVISITED\nTWENTY YEARS LATER\nBoth by the Original Discoverer of the Country and by his Son\n\n\nI forget when, but not very long after I had published \u201cErewhon\u201d in\n1872, it occurred to me to ask myself what course events in Erewhon\nwould probably take after Mr. Higgs, as I suppose I may now call him,\nhad made his escape in the balloon with Arowhena. Given a people in\nthe conditions supposed to exist in Erewhon, and given the apparently\nmiraculous ascent of a remarkable stranger into the heavens with an\nearthly bride--what would be the effect on the people generally?\n\nThere was no use in trying to solve this problem before, say, twenty\nyears should have given time for Erewhonian developments to assume\nsomething like permanent shape, and in 1892 I was too busy with books\nnow published to be able to attend to Erewhon. It was not till the\nearly winter of 1900, i.e. as nearly as may be thirty years after the\ndate of Higgs\u2019s escape, that I found time to deal with the question\nabove stated, and to answer it, according to my lights, in the book\nwhich I now lay before the public.\n\nI have concluded, I believe rightly, that the events described in\nChapter XXIV. of \u201cErewhon\u201d would give rise to such a cataclysmic change\nin the old Erewhonian opinions as would result in the development\nof a new religion. Now the development of all new religions follows\nmuch the same general course. In all cases the times are more or\nless out of joint--older faiths are losing their hold upon the\nmasses. At such times, let a personality appear, strong in itself,\nand made to seem still stronger by association with some supposed\ntranscendent miracle, and it will be easy to raise a Lo here! that will\nattract many followers. If there be a single great, and apparently\nwell-authenticated, miracle, others will accrete round it; then, in\nall religions that have so originated, there will follow temples,\npriests, rites, sincere believers, and unscrupulous exploiters of\npublic credulity. To chronicle the events that followed Higgs\u2019s balloon\nascent without shewing that they were much as they have been under like\nconditions in other places, would be to hold the mirror up to something\nvery wide of nature.\n\nAnalogy, however, between courses of events is one thing--historic\nparallelisms abound; analogy between the main actors in events is a\nvery different one, and one, moreover, of which few examples can be\nfound. The development of the new ideas in Erewhon is a familiar one,\nbut there is no more likeness between Higgs and the founder of any\nother religion, than there is between Jesus Christ and Mahomet. He is a\ntypical middle- class Englishman, deeply tainted with priggishness in\nhis earlier years, but in great part freed from it by the sweet uses of\nadversity.\n\nIf I may be allowed for a moment to speak about myself, I would say\nthat I have never ceased to profess myself a member of the more\nadvanced wing of the English Broad Church. What those who belong to\nthis wing believe, I believe. What they reject, I reject. No two\npeople think absolutely alike on any subject, but when I converse with\nadvanced Broad Churchmen I find myself in substantial harmony with\nthem. I believe--and should be very sorry if I did not believe--that,\nmutatis mutandis, such men will find the advice given on pp. 277-281\nand 287-291 of this book much what, under the supposed circumstances,\nthey would themselves give.\n\nLastly, I should express my great obligations to Mr. R. A. Streatfeild\nof the British Museum, who, in the absence from England of my friend\nMr. H. Festing Jones, has kindly supervised the corrections of my book\nas it passed through the press.\n\nSAMUEL BUTLER. May 1, 1901.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I: UPS AND DOWNS OF FORTUNE--MY FATHER STARTS FOR EREWHON\n\n\nBefore telling the story of my father\u2019s second visit to the remarkable\ncountry which he discovered now some thirty years since, I should\nperhaps say a few words about his career between the publication of his\nbook in 1872, and his death in the early summer of 1891. I shall thus\ntouch briefly on the causes that occasioned his failure to maintain\nthat hold on the public which he had apparently secured at first.\n\nHis book, as the reader may perhaps know, was published anonymously,\nand my poor father used to ascribe the acclamation with which it was\nreceived, to the fact that no one knew who it might not have been\nwritten by. _Omne ignotum pro magnifico_, and during its month of\nanonymity the book was a frequent topic of appreciative comment in good\nliterary circles. Almost coincidently with the discovery that he was a\nmere nobody, people began to feel that their admiration had been too\nhastily bestowed, and before long opinion turned all the more seriously\nagainst him for this very reason. The subscription, to which the Lord\nMayor had at first given his cordial support, was curtly announced as\nclosed before it had been opened a week; it had met with so little\nsuccess that I will not specify the amount eventually handed over, not\nwithout protest, to my father; small, however, as it was, he narrowly\nescaped being prosecuted for trying to obtain money under false\npretences.\n\nThe Geographical Society, which had for a few days received him\nwith open arms, was among the first to turn upon him--not, so far\nas I can ascertain, on account of the mystery in which he had\nenshrouded the exact whereabouts of Erewhon, nor yet by reason of\nits being persistently alleged that he was subject to frequent\nattacks of alcoholic poisoning--but through his own want of tact,\nand a highly-strung nervous state, which led him to attach too much\nimportance to his own discoveries, and not enough to those of other\npeople. This, at least, was my father\u2019s version of the matter, as I\nheard it from his own lips in the later years of his life.\n\n\u201cI was still very young,\u201d he said to me, \u201cand my mind was more or less\nunhinged by the strangeness and peril of my adventures.\u201d Be this as it\nmay, I fear there is no doubt that he was injudicious; and an ounce of\njudgement is worth a pound of discovery.\n\nHence, in a surprisingly short time, he found himself dropped even by\nthose who had taken him up most warmly, and had done most to find him\nthat employment as a writer of religious tracts on which his livelihood\nwas then dependent. The discredit, however, into which my father\nfell, had the effect of deterring any considerable number of people\nfrom trying to rediscover Erewhon, and thus caused it to remain as\nunknown to geographers in general as though it had never been found.\nA few shepherds and cadets at up-country stations had, indeed, tried\nto follow in my father\u2019s footsteps, during the time when his book was\nstill being taken seriously; but they had most of them returned, unable\nto face the difficulties that had opposed them. Some few, however,\nhad not returned, and though search was made for them, their bodies\nhad not been found. When he reached Erewhon on his second visit, my\nfather learned that others had attempted to visit the country more\nrecently--probably quite independently of his own book; and before he\nhad himself been in it many hours he gathered what the fate of these\npoor fellows doubtless was.\n\nAnother reason that made it more easy for Erewhon to remain unknown,\nwas the fact that the more mountainous districts, though repeatedly\nprospected for gold, had been pronounced non-auriferous, and as there\nwas no sheep or cattle country, save a few river-bed flats above the\nupper gorges of any of the rivers, and no game to tempt the sportsman,\nthere was nothing to induce people to penetrate into the fastnesses\nof the great snowy range. No more, therefore, being heard of Erewhon,\nmy father\u2019s book came to be regarded as a mere work of fiction, and\nI have heard quite recently of its having been seen on a second-hand\nbookstall, marked \u201c6d. very readable.\u201d\n\nThough there was no truth in the stories about my father\u2019s being\nsubject to attacks of alcoholic poisoning, yet, during the first few\nyears after his return to England, his occasional fits of ungovernable\nexcitement gave some colour to the opinion that much of what he said\nhe had seen and done might be only subjectively true. I refer more\nparticularly to his interview with Chowbok in the wool-shed, and\nhis highly coloured description of the statues on the top of the\npass leading into Erewhon. These were soon set down as forgeries of\ndelirium, and it was maliciously urged, that though in his book he had\nonly admitted having taken \u201ctwo or three bottles of brandy\u201d with him,\nhe had probably taken at least a dozen; and that if on the night before\nhe reached the statues he had \u201conly four ounces of brandy\u201d left, he\nmust have been drinking heavily for the preceding fortnight or three\nweeks. Those who read the following pages will, I think, reject all\nidea that my father was in a state of delirium, not without surprise\nthat any one should have ever entertained it.\n\nIt was Chowbok who, if he did not originate these calumnies, did much\nto disseminate and gain credence for them. He remained in England for\nsome years, and never tired of doing what he could to disparage my\nfather. The cunning creature had ingratiated himself with our leading\nreligious societies, especially with the more evangelical among them.\nWhatever doubt there might be about his sincerity, there was none about\nhis colour, and a coloured convert in those days was more than Exeter\nHall could resist. Chowbok saw that there was no room for him and for\nmy father, and declared my poor father\u2019s story to be almost wholly\nfalse. It was true, he said, that he and my father had explored the\nhead-waters of the river described in his book, but he denied that my\nfather had gone on without him, and he named the river as one distant\nby many thousands of miles from the one it really was. He said that\nafter about a fortnight he had returned in company with my father, who\nby that time had become incapacitated for further travel. At this point\nhe would shrug his shoulders, look mysterious, and thus say \u201calcoholic\npoisoning\u201d even more effectively than if he had uttered the words\nthemselves. For a man\u2019s tongue lies often in his shoulders.\n\nReaders of my father\u2019s book will remember that Chowbok had given a very\ndifferent version when he had returned to his employer\u2019s station; but\nTime and Distance afford cover under which falsehood can often do truth\nto death securely.\n\nI never understood why my father did not bring my mother forward to\nconfirm his story. He may have done so while I was too young to know\nanything about it. But when people have made up their minds, they are\nimpatient of further evidence; my mother, moreover, was of a very\nretiring disposition. The Italians say:-\n\n\u201cChi lontano va ammogliare Sar\u00e0 ingannato, o vorr\u00e0 ingannare.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf a man goes far afield for a wife, he will be deceived--or means\ndeceiving.\u201d The proverb is as true for women as for men, and my mother\nwas never quite happy in her new surroundings. Wilfully deceived she\nassuredly was not, but she could not accustom herself to English modes\nof thought; indeed she never even nearly mastered our language; my\nfather always talked with her in Erewhonian, and so did I, for as a\nchild she had taught me to do so, and I was as fluent with her language\nas with my father\u2019s. In this respect she often told me I could pass\nmyself off anywhere in Erewhon as a native; I shared also her personal\nappearance, for though not wholly unlike my father, I had taken more\nclosely after my mother. In mind, if I may venture to say so, I believe\nI was more like my father.\n\nI may as well here inform the reader that I was born at the end of\nSeptember 1871, and was christened John, after my grandfather. From\nwhat I have said above he will readily believe that my earliest\nexperiences were somewhat squalid. Memories of childhood rush vividly\nupon me when I pass through a low London alley, and catch the faint\nsickly smell that pervades it--half paraffin, half black-currants,\nbut wholly something very different. I have a fancy that we lived in\nBlackmoor Street, off Drury Lane. My father, when first I knew of\nhis doing anything at all, supported my mother and myself by drawing\npictures with coloured chalks upon the pavement; I used sometimes to\nwatch him, and marvel at the skill with which he represented fogs,\nfloods, and fires. These three \u201cf\u2019s,\u201d he would say, were his three best\nfriends, for they were easy to do and brought in halfpence freely. The\nreturn of the dove to the ark was his favourite subject. Such a little\nark, on such a hazy morning, and such a little pigeon--the rest of\nthe picture being cheap sky, and still cheaper sea; nothing, I have\noften heard him say, was more popular than this with his clients. He\nheld it to be his masterpiece, but would add with some na\u00efvet\u00e9 that\nhe considered himself a public benefactor for carrying it out in such\nperishable fashion. \u201cAt any rate,\u201d he would say, \u201cno one can bequeath\none of my many replicas to the nation.\u201d\n\nI never learned how much my father earned by his profession, but it\nmust have been something considerable, for we always had enough to eat\nand drink; I imagine that he did better than many a struggling artist\nwith more ambitious aims. He was strictly temperate during all the time\nthat I knew anything about him, but he was not a teetotaler; I never\nsaw any of the fits of nervous excitement which in his earlier years\nhad done so much to wreck him. In the evenings, and on days when the\nstate of the pavement did not permit him to work, he took great pains\nwith my education, which he could very well do, for as a boy he had\nbeen in the sixth form of one of our foremost public schools. I found\nhim a patient, kindly instructor, while to my mother he was a model\nhusband. Whatever others may have said about him, I can never think of\nhim without very affectionate respect.\n\nThings went on quietly enough, as above indicated, till I was about\nfourteen, when by a freak of fortune my father became suddenly\naffluent. A brother of his father\u2019s had emigrated to Australia in 1851,\nand had amassed great wealth. We knew of his existence, but there had\nbeen no intercourse between him and my father, and we did not even know\nthat he was rich and unmarried. He died intestate towards the end of\n1885, and my father was the only relative he had, except, of course,\nmyself, for both my father\u2019s sisters had died young, and without\nleaving children.\n\nThe solicitor through whom the news reached us was, happily, a man\nof the highest integrity, and also very sensible and kind. He was a\nMr. Alfred Emery Cathie, of 15 Clifford\u2019s Inn, E.C., and my father\nplaced himself unreservedly in his hands. I was at once sent to a\nfirst-rate school, and such pains had my father taken with me that I\nwas placed in a higher form than might have been expected considering\nmy age. The way in which he had taught me had prevented my feeling any\ndislike for study; I therefore stuck fairly well to my books, while\nnot neglecting the games which are so important a part of healthy\neducation. Everything went well with me, both as regards masters and\nschool-fellows; nevertheless, I was declared to be of a highly nervous\nand imaginative temperament, and the school doctor more than once urged\nour headmaster not to push me forward too rapidly--for which I have\never since held myself his debtor.\n\nEarly in 1890, I being then home from Oxford (where I had been entered\nin the preceding year), my mother died; not so much from active\nillness, as from what was in reality a kind of _maladie du pays_.\nAll along she had felt herself an exile, and though she had borne up\nwonderfully during my father\u2019s long struggle with adversity, she began\nto break as soon as prosperity had removed the necessity for exertion\non her own part.\n\nMy father could never divest himself of the feeling that he had wrecked\nher life by inducing her to share her lot with his own; to say that he\nwas stricken with remorse on losing her is not enough; he had been so\nstricken almost from the first year of his marriage; on her death he\nwas haunted by the wrong he accused himself--as it seems to me very\nunjustly--of having done her, for it was neither his fault nor hers--it\nwas At\u00e8.\n\nHis unrest soon assumed the form of a burning desire to revisit the\ncountry in which he and my mother had been happier together than\nperhaps they ever again were. I had often heard him betray a hankering\nafter a return to Erewhon, disguised so that no one should recognise\nhim; but as long as my mother lived he would not leave her. When death\nhad taken her from him, he so evidently stood in need of a complete\nchange of scene, that even those friends who had most strongly\ndissuaded him from what they deemed a madcap enterprise, thought it\nbetter to leave him to himself. It would have mattered little how much\nthey tried to dissuade him, for before long his passionate longing for\nthe journey became so overmastering that nothing short of restraint in\nprison or a madhouse could have stayed his going; but we were not easy\nabout him. \u201cHe had better go,\u201d said Mr. Cathie to me, when I was at\nhome for the Easter vacation, \u201cand get it over. He is not well, but he\nis still in the prime of life; doubtless he will come back with renewed\nhealth and will settle down to a quiet home life again.\u201d\n\nThis, however, was not said till it had become plain that in a few days\nmy father would be on his way. He had made a new will, and left an\nample power of attorney with Mr. Cathie--or, as we always called him,\nAlfred--who was to supply me with whatever money I wanted; he had put\nall other matters in order in case anything should happen to prevent\nhis ever returning, and he set out on October 1, 1890, more composed\nand cheerful than I had seen him for some time past.\n\nI had not realised how serious the danger to my father would be if he\nwere recognised while he was in Erewhon, for I am ashamed to say that\nI had not yet read his book. I had heard over and over again of his\nflight with my mother in the balloon, and had long since read his few\nopening chapters, but I had found, as a boy naturally would, that the\nsucceeding pages were a little dull, and soon put the book aside. My\nfather, indeed, repeatedly urged me not to read it, for he said there\nwas much in it--more especially in the earlier chapters, which I had\nalone found interesting--that he would gladly cancel if he could. \u201cBut\nthere!\u201d he had said with a laugh, \u201cwhat does it matter?\u201d\n\nHe had hardly left, before I read his book from end to end, and, on\nhaving done so, not only appreciated the risks that he would have to\nrun, but was struck with the wide difference between his character\nas he had himself portrayed it, and the estimate I had formed of\nit from personal knowledge. When, on his return, he detailed to me\nhis adventures, the account he gave of what he had said and done\ncorresponded with my own ideas concerning him; but I doubt not the\nreader will see that the twenty years between his first and second\nvisit had modified him even more than so long an interval might be\nexpected to do.\n\nI heard from him repeatedly during the first two months of his absence,\nand was surprised to find that he had stayed for a week or ten days at\nmore than one place of call on his outward journey. On November 26 he\nwrote from the port whence he was to start for Erewhon, seemingly in\ngood health and spirits; and on December 27, 1891, he telegraphed for a\nhundred pounds to be wired out to him at this same port. This puzzled\nboth Mr. Cathie and myself, for the interval between November 26 and\nDecember 27 seemed too short to admit of his having paid his visit to\nErewhon and returned; as, moreover, he had added the words, \u201cComing\nhome,\u201d we rather hoped that he had abandoned his intention of going\nthere.\n\nWe were also surprised at his wanting so much money, for he had taken a\nhundred pounds in gold, which from some fancy, he had stowed in a small\nsilver jewel-box that he had given my mother not long before she died.\nHe had also taken a hundred pounds worth of gold nuggets, which he had\nintended to sell in Erewhon so as to provide himself with money when he\ngot there.\n\nI should explain that these nuggets would be worth in Erewhon fully ten\ntimes as much as they would in Europe, owing to the great scarcity of\ngold in that country. The Erewhonian coinage is entirely silver--which\nis abundant, and worth much what it is in England--or copper, which is\nalso plentiful; but what we should call five pounds\u2019 worth of silver\nmoney would not buy more than one of our half-sovereigns in gold.\n\nHe had put his nuggets into ten brown holland bags, and he had had\nsecret pockets made for the old Erewhonian dress which he had worn when\nhe escaped, so that he need never have more than one bag of nuggets\naccessible at a time. He was not likely, therefore, to have been\nrobbed. His passage to the port above referred to had been paid before\nhe started, and it seemed impossible that a man of his very inexpensive\nhabits should have spent two hundred pounds in a single month--for the\nnuggets would be immediately convertible in an English colony. There\nwas nothing, however, to be done but to cable out the money and wait my\nfather\u2019s arrival.\n\nReturning for a moment to my father\u2019s old Erewhonian dress, I should\nsay that he had preserved it simply as a memento and without any idea\nthat he should again want it. It was not the court dress that had been\nprovided for him on the occasion of his visit to the king and queen,\nbut the everyday clothing that he had been ordered to wear when he was\nput in prison, though his English coat, waistcoat, and trousers had\nbeen allowed to remain in his own possession. These, I had seen from\nhis book, had been presented by him to the queen (with the exception of\ntwo buttons, which he had given to Yram as a keepsake), and had been\npreserved by her displayed upon a wooden dummy. The dress in which he\nescaped had been soiled during the hours that he and my mother had been\nin the sea, and had also suffered from neglect during the years of\nhis poverty; but he wished to pass himself off as a common peasant or\nworking-man, so he preferred to have it set in order as might best be\ndone, rather than copied.\n\nSo cautious was he in the matter of dress that he took with him the\nboots he had worn on leaving Erewhon, lest the foreign make of his\nEnglish boots should arouse suspicion. They were nearly new, and when\nhe had had them softened and well greased, he found he could still wear\nthem quite comfortably.\n\nBut to return. He reached home late at night one day at the beginning\nof February, and a glance was enough to show that he was an altered\nman. \u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d said I, shocked at his appearance. \u201cDid you\ngo to Erewhon, and were you ill-treated there?\u201d\n\n\u201cI went to Erewhon,\u201d he said, \u201cand I was not ill-treated there, but I\nhave been so shaken that I fear I shall quite lose my reason. Do not\nask me more now. I will tell you about it all to-morrow. Let me have\nsomething to eat, and go to bed.\u201d\n\nWhen we met at breakfast next morning, he greeted me with all his usual\nwarmth of affection, but he was still taciturn. \u201cI will begin to tell\nyou about it,\u201d he said, \u201cafter breakfast. Where is your dear mother?\nHow was it that I have . . . \u201d\n\nThen of a sudden his memory returned, and he burst into tears.\n\nI now saw, to my horror, that his mind was gone. When he recovered, he\nsaid: \u201cIt has all come back again, but at times now I am a blank, and\nevery week am more and more so. I daresay I shall be sensible now for\nseveral hours. We will go into the study after breakfast, and I will\ntalk to you as long as I can do so.\u201d\n\nLet the reader spare me, and let me spare the reader any description of\nwhat we both of us felt.\n\nWhen we were in the study, my father said, \u201cMy dearest boy, get pen and\npaper and take notes of what I tell you. It will be all disjointed; one\nday I shall remember this, and another that, but there will not be many\nmore days on which I shall remember anything at all. I cannot write a\ncoherent page. You, when I am gone, can piece what I tell you together,\nand tell it as I should have told it if I had been still sound. But\ndo not publish it yet; it might do harm to those dear good people.\nTake the notes now, and arrange them the sooner the better, for you\nmay want to ask me questions, and I shall not be here much longer. Let\npublishing wait till you are confident that publication can do no harm;\nand above all, say nothing to betray the whereabouts of Erewhon, beyond\nadmitting (which I fear I have already done) that it is in the Southern\nhemisphere.\u201d\n\nThese instructions I have religiously obeyed. For the first days after\nhis return, my father had few attacks of loss of memory, and I was in\nhopes that his former health of mind would return when he found himself\nin his old surroundings. During these days he poured forth the story\nof his adventures so fast, that if I had not had a fancy for acquiring\nshorthand, I should not have been able to keep pace with him. I\nrepeatedly urged him not to overtax his strength, but he was oppressed\nby the fear that if he did not speak at once, he might never be able to\ntell me all he had to say; I had, therefore, to submit, though seeing\nplainly enough that he was only hastening the complete paralysis which\nhe so greatly feared.\n\nSometimes his narrative would be coherent for pages together, and he\ncould answer any questions without hesitation; at others, he was now\nhere and now there, and if I tried to keep him to the order of events\nhe would say that he had forgotten intermediate incidents, but that\nthey would probably come back to him, and I should perhaps be able to\nput them in their proper places.\n\nAfter about ten days he seemed satisfied that I had got all the facts,\nand that with the help of the pamphlets which he had brought with him\nI should be able to make out a connected story. \u201cRemember,\u201d he said,\n\u201cthat I thought I was quite well so long as I was in Erewhon, and do\nnot let me appear as anything else.\u201d\n\nWhen he had fully delivered himself, he seemed easier in his mind, but\nbefore a month had passed he became completely paralysed, and though\nhe lingered till the beginning of June, he was seldom more than dimly\nconscious of what was going on around him.\n\nHis death robbed me of one who had been a very kind and upright elder\nbrother rather than a father; and so strongly have I felt his influence\nstill present, living and working, as I believe for better within me,\nthat I did not hesitate to copy the epitaph which he saw in the Musical\nBank at Fairmead, {1} and to have it inscribed on the very simple\nmonument which he desired should alone mark his grave.\n\n* * * * *\n\nThe foregoing was written in the summer of 1891; what I now add should\nbe dated December 3, 1900. If, in the course of my work, I have\nmisrepresented my father, as I fear I may have sometimes done, I would\nask my readers to remember that no man can tell another\u2019s story without\nsome involuntary misrepresentation both of facts and characters. They\nwill, of course, see that \u201cErewhon Revisited\u201d is written by one who has\nfar less literary skill than the author of \u201cErewhon;\u201d but again I would\nask indulgence on the score of youth, and the fact that this is my\nfirst book. It was written nearly ten years ago, _i.e_. in the months\nfrom March to August 1891, but for reasons already given it could not\nthen be made public. I have now received permission, and therefore\npublish the following chapters, exactly, or very nearly exactly, as\nthey were left when I had finished editing my father\u2019s diaries, and the\nnotes I took down from his own mouth--with the exception, of course, of\nthese last few lines, hurriedly written as I am on the point of leaving\nEngland, of the additions I made in 1892, on returning from my own\nthree hours\u2019 stay in Erewhon, and of the Postscript.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II: TO THE FOOT OF THE PASS INTO EREWHON\n\n\nWhen my father reached the colony for which he had left England some\ntwenty-two years previously, he bought a horse, and started up country\non the evening of the day after his arrival, which was, as I have said,\non one of the last days of November 1890. He had taken an English\nsaddle with him, and a couple of roomy and strongly made saddle-bags.\nIn these he packed his money, his nuggets, some tea, sugar, tobacco,\nsalt, a flask of brandy, matches, and as many ship\u2019s biscuits as he\nthought he was likely to want; he took no meat, for he could supply\nhimself from some accommodation-house or sheep-station, when nearing\nthe point after which he would have to begin camping out. He rolled\nhis Erewhonian dress and small toilette necessaries inside a warm red\nblanket, and strapped the roll on to the front part of his saddle. On\nto other D\u2019s, with which his saddle was amply provided, he strapped his\nErewhonian boots, a tin pannikin, and a billy that would hold about a\nquart. I should, perhaps, explain to English readers that a billy is a\ntin can, the name for which (doubtless of French Canadian origin) is\nderived from the words \u201c_faire bouillir_.\u201d He also took with him a pair\nof hobbles and a small hatchet.\n\nHe spent three whole days in riding across the plains, and was struck\nwith the very small signs of change that he could detect, but the fall\nin wool, and the failure, so far, to establish a frozen meat trade, had\nprevented any material development of the resources of the country.\nWhen he had got to the front ranges, he followed up the river next\nto the north of the one that he had explored years ago, and from the\nhead waters of which he had been led to discover the only practicable\npass into Erewhon. He did this, partly to avoid the terribly dangerous\ndescent on to the bed of the more northern river, and partly to escape\nbeing seen by shepherds or bullock-drivers who might remember him.\n\nIf he had attempted to get through the gorge of this river in 1870,\nhe would have found it impassable; but a few river-bed flats had been\ndiscovered above the gorge, on which there was now a shepherd\u2019s hut,\nand on the discovery of these flats a narrow horse track had been made\nfrom one end of the gorge to the other.\n\nHe was hospitably entertained at the shepherd\u2019s hut just mentioned,\nwhich he reached on Monday, December 1. He told the shepherd in\ncharge of it that he had come to see if he could find traces of a\nlarge wingless bird, whose existence had been reported as having been\ndiscovered among the extreme head waters of the river.\n\n\u201cBe careful, sir,\u201d said the shepherd; \u201cthe river is very dangerous;\nseveral people--one only about a year ago--have left this hut, and\nthough their horses and their camps have been found, their bodies have\nnot. When a great fresh comes down, it would carry a body out to sea in\ntwenty-four hours.\u201d\n\nHe evidently had no idea that there was a pass through the ranges up\nthe river, which might explain the disappearance of an explorer.\n\nNext day my father began to ascend the river. There was so much\ntangled growth still unburnt wherever there was room for it to grow,\nand so much swamp, that my father had to keep almost entirely to the\nriver-bed--and here there was a good deal of quicksand. The stones\nalso were often large for some distance together, and he had to cross\nand recross streams of the river more than once, so that though he\ntravelled all day with the exception of a couple of hours for dinner,\nhe had not made more than some five and twenty miles when he reached a\nsuitable camping ground, where he unsaddled his horse, hobbled him, and\nturned him out to feed. The grass was beginning to seed, so that though\nit was none too plentiful, what there was of it made excellent feed.\n\nHe lit his fire, made himself some tea, ate his cold mutton and\nbiscuits, and lit his pipe, exactly as he had done twenty years before.\nThere was the clear starlit sky, the rushing river, and the stunted\ntrees on the mountain-side; the woodhens cried, and the \u201cmore-pork\u201d\nhooted out her two monotonous notes exactly as they had done years\nsince; one moment, and time had so flown backwards that youth came\nbounding back to him with the return of his youth\u2019s surroundings; the\nnext, and the intervening twenty years--most of them grim ones--rose\nup mockingly before him, and the buoyancy of hope yielded to the\ndespondency of admitted failure. By and by buoyancy reasserted itself,\nand, soothed by the peace and beauty of the night, he wrapped himself\nup in his blanket and dropped off into a dreamless slumber.\n\nNext morning, _i.e_. December 3, he rose soon after dawn, bathed in\na backwater of the river, got his breakfast, found his horse on the\nriver- bed, and started as soon as he had duly packed and loaded. He\nhad now to cross streams of the river and recross them more often than\non the preceding day, and this, though his horse took well to the\nwater, required care; for he was anxious not to wet his saddle-bags,\nand it was only by crossing at the wide, smooth, water above a rapid,\nand by picking places where the river ran in two or three streams,\nthat he could find fords where his practised eye told him that the\nwater would not be above his horse\u2019s belly--for the river was of great\nvolume. Fortunately, there had been a late fall of snow on the higher\nranges, and the river was, for the summer season, low.\n\nTowards evening, having travelled, so far as he could guess, some\ntwenty or five and twenty miles (for he had made another mid day halt),\nhe reached the place, which he easily recognised, as that where he\nhad camped before crossing to the pass that led into Erewhon. It was\nthe last piece of ground that could be called a flat (though it was\nin reality only the sloping delta of a stream that descended from\nthe pass) before reaching a large glacier that had encroached on the\nriver-bed, which it traversed at right angles for a considerable\ndistance.\n\nHere he again camped, hobbled his horse, and turned him adrift, hoping\nthat he might again find him some two or three months hence, for there\nwas a good deal of sweet grass here and there, with sow-thistle and\nanise; and the coarse tussock grass would be in full seed shortly,\nwhich alone would keep him going for as long a time as my father\nexpected to be away. Little did he think that he should want him again\nso shortly.\n\nHaving attended to his horse, he got his supper, and while smoking his\npipe congratulated himself on the way in which something had smoothed\naway all the obstacles that had so nearly baffled him on his earlier\njourney. Was he being lured on to his destruction by some malicious\nfiend, or befriended by one who had compassion on him and wished him\nwell? His naturally sanguine temperament inclined him to adopt the\nfriendly spirit theory, in the peace of which he again laid himself\ndown to rest, and slept soundly from dark till dawn.\n\nIn the morning, though the water was somewhat icy, he again bathed,\nand then put on his Erewhonian boots and dress. He stowed his European\nclothes, with some difficulty, into his saddle-bags. Herein also he\nleft his case full of English sovereigns, his spare pipes, his purse,\nwhich contained two pounds in gold and seven or eight shillings,\npart of his stock of tobacco, and whatever provision was left him,\nexcept the meat--which he left for sundry hawks and parrots that were\neyeing his proceedings apparently without fear of man. His nuggets he\nconcealed in the secret pockets of which I have already spoken, keeping\none bag alone accessible.\n\nHe had had his hair and beard cut short on shipboard the day before he\nlanded. These he now dyed with a dye that he had brought from England,\nand which in a few minutes turned them very nearly black. He also\nstained his face and hands deep brown. He hung his saddle and bridle,\nhis English boots, and his saddle-bags on the highest bough that he\ncould reach, and made them fairly fast with strips of flax leaf, for\nthere was some stunted flax growing on the ground where he had camped.\nHe feared that, do what he might, they would not escape the inquisitive\nthievishness of the parrots, whose strong beaks could easily cut\nleather; but he could do nothing more. It occurs to me, though my\nfather never told me so, that it was perhaps with a view to these birds\nthat he had chosen to put his English sovereigns into a metal box, with\na clasp to it which would defy them.\n\nHe made a roll of his blanket, and slung it over his shoulder; he also\ntook his pipe, tobacco, a little tea, a few ship\u2019s biscuits, and his\nbilly and pannikin; matches and salt go without saying. When he had\nthus ordered everything as nearly to his satisfaction as he could,\nhe looked at his watch for the last time, as he believed, till many\nweeks should have gone by, and found it to be about seven o\u2019clock.\nRemembering what trouble it had got him into years before, he took down\nhis saddle-bags, reopened them, and put the watch inside. He then set\nhimself to climb the mountain side, towards the saddle on which he had\nseen the statues.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III: MY FATHER WHILE CAMPING IS ACCOSTED BY PROFESSORS HANKY\nAND PANKY\n\n\nMy father found the ascent more fatiguing than he remembered it to have\nbeen. The climb, he said, was steady, and took him between four and\nfive hours, as near as he could guess, now that he had no watch; but it\noffered nothing that could be called a difficulty, and the watercourse\nthat came down from the saddle was a sufficient guide; once or twice\nthere were waterfalls, but they did not seriously delay him.\n\nAfter he had climbed some three thousand feet, he began to be on the\nalert for some sound of ghostly chanting from the statues; but he heard\nnothing, and toiled on till he came to a sprinkling of fresh snow--part\nof the fall which he had observed on the preceding day as having\nwhitened the higher mountains; he knew, therefore, that he must now be\nnearing the saddle. The snow grew rapidly deeper, and by the time he\nreached the statues the ground was covered to a depth of two or three\ninches.\n\nHe found the statues smaller than he had expected. He had said in his\nbook--written many months after he had seen them--that they were about\nsix times the size of life, but he now thought that four or five times\nwould have been enough to say. Their mouths were much clogged with\nsnow, so that even though there had been a strong wind (which there\nwas not) they would not have chanted. In other respects he found them\nnot less mysteriously impressive than at first. He walked two or three\ntimes all round them, and then went on.\n\nThe snow did not continue far down, but before long my father entered\na thick bank of cloud, and had to feel his way cautiously along the\nstream that descended from the pass. It was some two hours before\nhe emerged into clear air, and found himself on the level bed of an\nold lake now grassed over. He had quite forgotten this feature of\nthe descent--perhaps the clouds had hung over it; he was overjoyed,\nhowever, to find that the flat ground abounded with a kind of quail,\nlarger than ours, and hardly, if at all, smaller than a partridge. The\nabundance of these quails surprised him, for he did not remember them\nas plentiful anywhere on the Erewhonian side of the mountains.\n\nThe Erewhonian quail, like its now nearly, if not quite, extinct New\nZealand congener, can take three successive flights of a few yards\neach, but then becomes exhausted; hence quails are only found on ground\nthat is never burned, and where there are no wild animals to molest\nthem; the cats and dogs that accompany European civilisation soon\nexterminate them; my father, therefore, felt safe in concluding that\nhe was still far from any village. Moreover he could see no sheep or\ngoat\u2019s dung; and this surprised him, for he thought he had found signs\nof pasturage much higher than this. Doubtless, he said to himself,\nwhen he wrote his book he had forgotten how long the descent had been.\nBut it was odd, for the grass was good feed enough, and ought, he\nconsidered, to have been well stocked.\n\nTired with his climb, during which he had not rested to take food, but\nhad eaten biscuits, as he walked, he gave himself a good long rest, and\nwhen refreshed, he ran down a couple of dozen quails, some of which he\nmeant to eat when he camped for the night, while the others would help\nhim out of a difficulty which had been troubling him for some time.\n\nWhat was he to say when people asked him, as they were sure to do,\nhow he was living? And how was he to get enough Erewhonian money to\nkeep him going till he could find some safe means of selling a few of\nhis nuggets? He had had a little Erewhonian money when he went up in\nthe balloon, but had thrown it over, with everything else except the\nclothes he wore and his MSS., when the balloon was nearing the water.\nHe had nothing with him that he dared offer for sale, and though he had\nplenty of gold, was in reality penniless.\n\nWhen, therefore, he saw the quails, he again felt as though some\nfriendly spirit was smoothing his way before him. What more easy than\nto sell them at Coldharbour (for so the name of the town in which he\nhad been imprisoned should be translated), where he knew they were a\ndelicacy, and would fetch him the value of an English shilling a piece?\n\nIt took him between two and three hours to catch two dozen. When he\nhad thus got what he considered a sufficient stock, he tied their legs\ntogether with rushes, and ran a stout stick through the whole lot. Soon\nafterwards he came upon a wood of stunted pines, which, though there\nwas not much undergrowth, nevertheless afforded considerable shelter\nand enabled him to gather wood enough to make himself a good fire. This\nwas acceptable, for though the days were long, it was now evening, and\nas soon as the sun had gone the air became crisp and frosty.\n\nHere he resolved to pass the night. He chose a part where the trees\nwere thickest, lit his fire, plucked and cleaned four quails, filled\nhis billy with water from the stream hard by, made tea in his pannikin,\ngrilled two of his birds on the embers, ate them, and when he had done\nall this, he lit his pipe and began to think things over. \u201cSo far so\ngood,\u201d said he to himself; but hardly had the words passed through\nhis mind before he was startled by the sound of voices, still at some\ndistance, but evidently drawing towards him.\n\nHe instantly gathered up his billy, pannikin, tea, biscuits, and\nblanket, all of which he had determined to discard and hide on the\nfollowing morning; everything that could betray him he carried full\nhaste into the wood some few yards off, in the direction opposite to\nthat from which the voices were coming, but he let his quails lie where\nthey were, and put his pipe and tobacco in his pocket.\n\nThe voices drew nearer and nearer, and it was all my father could do to\nget back and sit down innocently by his fire, before he could hear what\nwas being said.\n\n\u201cThank goodness,\u201d said one of the speakers (of course in the Erewhonian\nlanguage), \u201cwe seem to be finding somebody at last. I hope it is not\nsome poacher; we had better be careful.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense!\u201d said the other. \u201cIt must be one of the rangers. No one\nwould dare to light a fire while poaching on the King\u2019s preserves. What\no\u2019clock do you make it?\u201d\n\n\u201cHalf after nine.\u201d And the watch was still in the speaker\u2019s hand as he\nemerged from darkness into the glowing light of the fire. My father\nglanced at it, and saw that it was exactly like the one he had worn on\nentering Erewhon nearly twenty years previously.\n\nThe watch, however, was a very small matter; the dress of these two\nmen (for there were only two) was far more disconcerting. They were\nnot in the Erewhonian costume. The one was dressed like an Englishman\nor would- be Englishman, while the other was wearing the same kind\nof clothes but turned the wrong way round, so that when his face was\ntowards my father his body seemed to have its back towards him, and\n_vice verso_. The man\u2019s head, in fact, appeared to have been screwed\nright round; and yet it was plain that if he were stripped he would be\nfound built like other people.\n\nWhat could it all mean? The men were about fifty years old. They were\nwell-to-do people, well clad, well fed, and were felt instinctively by\nmy father to belong to the academic classes. That one of them should\nbe dressed like a sensible Englishman dismayed my father as much as\nthat the other should have a watch, and look as if he had just broken\nout of Bedlam, or as King Dagobert must have looked if he had worn all\nhis clothes as he is said to have worn his breeches. Both wore their\nclothes so easily--for he who wore them reversed had evidently been\nmeasured with a view to this absurd fashion--that it was plain their\ndress was habitual.\n\nMy father was alarmed as well as astounded, for he saw that what little\nplan of a campaign he had formed must be reconstructed, and he had no\nidea in what direction his next move should be taken; but he was a\nready man, and knew that when people have taken any idea into their\nheads, a little confirmation will fix it. A first idea is like a strong\nseedling; it will grow if it can.\n\nIn less time than it will have taken the reader to get through the last\nforegoing paragraphs, my father took up the cue furnished him by the\nsecond speaker.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said he, going boldly up to this gentleman, \u201cI am one of the\nrangers, and it is my duty to ask you what you are doing here upon the\nKing\u2019s preserves.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so, my man,\u201d was the rejoinder. \u201cWe have been to see the statues\nat the head of the pass, and have a permit from the Mayor of Sunch\u2019ston\nto enter upon the preserves. We lost ourselves in the thick fog, both\ngoing and coming back.\u201d\n\nMy father inwardly blessed the fog. He did not catch the name of the\ntown, but presently found that it was commonly pronounced as I have\nwritten it.\n\n\u201cBe pleased to show it me,\u201d said my father in his politest manner. On\nthis a document was handed to him.\n\nI will here explain that I shall translate the names of men and places,\nas well as the substance of the document; and I shall translate all\nnames in future. Indeed I have just done so in the case of Sunch\u2019ston.\nAs an example, let me explain that the true Erewhonian names for Hanky\nand Panky, to whom the reader will be immediately introduced, are\nSukoh and Sukop--names too cacophonous to be read with pleasure by the\nEnglish public. I must ask the reader to believe that in all cases I am\ndoing my best to give the spirit of the original name.\n\nI would also express my regret that my father did not either uniformly\nkeep to the true Erewhonian names, as in the cases of Senoj Nosnibor,\nYdgrun, Thims, &c.--names which occur constantly in Erewhon--or\nelse invariably invent a name, as he did whenever he considered\nthe true name impossible. My poor mother\u2019s name, for example, was\nreally Nna Haras, and Mahaina\u2019s Enaj Ysteb, which he dared not face.\nHe, therefore, gave these characters the first names that euphony\nsuggested, without any attempt at translation. Rightly or wrongly, I\nhave determined to keep consistently to translation for all names not\nused in my father\u2019s book; and throughout, whether as regards names or\nconversations, I shall translate with the freedom without which no\ntranslation rises above construe level.\n\nLet me now return to the permit. The earlier part of the document was\nprinted, and ran as follows:-\n\n   \u201cExtracts from the Act for the afforesting of certain lands lying\n   between the town of Sunchildston, formerly called Coldharbour, and the\n   mountains which bound the kingdom of Erewhon, passed in the year\n   Three, being the eighth year of the reign of his Most Gracious Majesty\n   King Well-beloved the Twenty-Second.\n\n   \u201cWhereas it is expedient to prevent any of his Majesty\u2019s subjects from\n   trying to cross over into unknown lands beyond the mountains, and in\n   like manner to protect his Majesty\u2019s kingdom from intrusion on the\n   part of foreign devils, it is hereby enacted that certain lands, more\n   particularly described hereafter, shall be afforested and set apart as\n   a hunting-ground for his Majesty\u2019s private use.\n\n   \u201cIt is also enacted that the Rangers and Under-rangers shall be\n   required to immediately kill without parley any foreign devil whom\n   they may encounter coming from the other side of the mountains. They\n   are to weight the body, and throw it into the Blue Pool under the\n   waterfall shown on the plan hereto annexed; but on pain of\n   imprisonment for life they shall not reserve to their own use any\n   article belonging to the deceased. Neither shall they divulge what\n   they have done to any one save the Head Ranger, who shall report the\n   circumstances of the case fully and minutely to his Majesty.\n\n   \u201cAs regards any of his Majesty\u2019s subjects who may be taken while\n   trespassing on his Majesty\u2019s preserves without a special permit signed\n   by the Mayor of Sunchildston, or any who may be convicted of poaching\n   on the said preserves, the Rangers shall forthwith arrest them and\n   bring them before the Mayor of Sunchildston, who shall enquire into\n   their antecedents, and punish them with such term of imprisonment,\n   with hard labour, as he may think fit, provided that no such term be\n   of less duration than twelve calendar months.\n\n   \u201cFor the further provisions of the said Act, those whom it may concern\n   are referred to the Act in full, a copy of which may be seen at the\n   official residence of the Mayor of Sunchildston.\u201d\n\nThen followed in MS. \u201cXIX. xii. 29. Permit Professor Hanky, Royal\nProfessor of Worldly Wisdom at Bridgeford, seat of learning, city\nof the people who are above suspicion, and Professor Panky, Royal\nProfessor of Unworldly Wisdom in the said city, or either of them\u201d\n[here the MS. ended, the rest of the permit being in print] \u201cto pass\nfreely during the space of forty-eight hours from the date hereof,\nover the King\u2019s preserves, provided, under pain of imprisonment with\nhard labour for twelve months, that they do not kill, nor cause to\nbe killed, nor eat, if another have killed, any one or more of his\nMajesty\u2019s quails.\u201d\n\nThe signature was such a scrawl that my father could not read it,\nbut underneath was printed, \u201cMayor of Sunchildston, formerly called\nColdharbour.\u201d\n\nWhat a mass of information did not my father gather as he read, but\nwhat a far greater mass did he not see that he must get hold of ere he\ncould reconstruct his plans intelligently.\n\n\u201cThe year three,\u201d indeed; and XIX. xii. 29, in Roman and Arabic\ncharacters! There were no such characters when he was in Erewhon\nbefore. It flashed upon him that he had repeatedly shewn them to\nthe Nosnibors, and had once even written them down. It could not be\nthat . . . No, it was impossible; and yet there was the European dress,\naimed at by the one Professor, and attained by the other. Again \u201cXIX.\u201d\nwhat was that? \u201cxii.\u201d might do for December, but it was now the 4th of\nDecember not the 29th. \u201cAfforested\u201d too? Then that was why he had seen\nno sheep tracks. And how about the quails he had so innocently killed?\nWhat would have happened if he had tried to sell them in Coldharbour?\nWhat other like fatal error might he not ignorantly commit? And why had\nColdharbour become Sunchildston?\n\nThese thoughts raced through my poor father\u2019s brain as he slowly\nperused the paper handed to him by the Professors. To give himself time\nhe feigned to be a poor scholar, but when he had delayed as long as he\ndared, he returned it to the one who had given it him. Without changing\na muscle he said--\n\n\u201cYour permit, sir, is quite regular. You can either stay here the night\nor go on to Sunchildston as you think fit. May I ask which of you two\ngentlemen is Professor Hanky, and which Professor Panky?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Panky,\u201d said the one who had the watch, who wore his\nclothes reversed, and who had thought my father might be a poacher.\n\n\u201cAnd mine Hanky,\u201d said the other.\n\n\u201cWhat do you think, Panky,\u201d he added, turning to his brother Professor,\n\u201chad we not better stay here till sunrise? We are both of us tired, and\nthis fellow can make us a good fire. It is very dark, and there will\nbe no moon this two hours. We are hungry, but we can hold out till we\nget to Sunchildston; it cannot be more than eight or nine miles further\ndown.\u201d\n\nPanky assented, but then, turning sharply to my father, he said, \u201cMy\nman, what are you doing in the forbidden dress? Why are you not in\nranger\u2019s uniform, and what is the meaning of all those quails?\u201d For his\nseedling idea that my father was in reality a poacher was doing its\nbest to grow.\n\nQuick as thought my father answered, \u201cThe Head Ranger sent me a message\nthis morning to deliver him three dozen quails at Sunchildston by\nto-morrow afternoon. As for the dress, we can run the quails down\nquicker in it, and he says nothing to us so long as we only wear out\nold clothes and put on our uniforms before we near the town. My uniform\nis in the ranger\u2019s shelter an hour and a half higher up the valley.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee what comes,\u201d said Panky, \u201cof having a whippersnapper not yet\ntwenty years old in the responsible post of Head Ranger. As for this\nfellow, he may be speaking the truth, but I distrust him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe man is all right, Panky,\u201d said Hanky, \u201cand seems to be a decent\nfellow enough.\u201d Then to my father, \u201cHow many brace have you got?\u201d And\nhe looked at them a little wistfully.\n\n\u201cI have been at it all day, sir, and I have only got eight brace. I\nmust run down ten more brace to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see, I see.\u201d Then, turning to Panky, he said, \u201cOf course, they are\nwanted for the Mayor\u2019s banquet on Sunday. By the way, we have not yet\nreceived our invitation; I suppose we shall find it when we get back to\nSunchildston.\u201d\n\n\u201cSunday, Sunday, Sunday!\u201d groaned my father inwardly; but he changed\nnot a muscle of his face, and said stolidly to Professor Hanky, \u201cI\nthink you must be right, sir; but there was nothing said about it to\nme, I was only told to bring the birds.\u201d\n\nThus tenderly did he water the Professor\u2019s second seedling. But Panky\nhad his seedling too, and, Cain-like, was jealous that Hanky\u2019s should\nflourish while his own was withering.\n\n\u201cAnd what, pray, my man,\u201d he said somewhat peremptorily to my father,\n\u201care those two plucked quails doing? Were you to deliver them plucked?\nAnd what bird did those bones belong to which I see lying by the fire\nwith the flesh all eaten off them? Are the under-rangers allowed not\nonly to wear the forbidden dress but to eat the King\u2019s quails as well?\u201d\n\nThe form in which the question was asked gave my father his cue.\nHe laughed heartily, and said, \u201cWhy, sir, those plucked birds are\nlandrails, not quails, and those bones are landrail bones. Look at this\nthigh-bone; was there ever a quail with such a bone as that?\u201d\n\nI cannot say whether or no Professor Panky was really deceived by the\nsweet effrontery with which my father proffered him the bone. If he was\ntaken in, his answer was dictated simply by a donnish unwillingness to\nallow any one to be better informed on any subject than he was himself.\n\nMy father, when I suggested this to him, would not hear of it. \u201cOh no,\u201d\nhe said; \u201cthe man knew well enough that I was lying.\u201d However this may\nbe, the Professor\u2019s manner changed.\n\n\u201cYou are right,\u201d he said, \u201cI thought they were landrail bones, but was\nnot sure till I had one in my hand. I see, too, that the plucked birds\nare landrails, but there is little light, and I have not often seen\nthem without their feathers.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said my father to me, \u201cthat Hanky knew what his friend\nmeant, for he said, \u2018Panky, I am very hungry.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, Hanky, Hanky,\u201d said the other, modulating his harsh voice till it\nwas quite pleasant. \u201cDon\u2019t corrupt the poor man.\u201d\n\n\u201cPanky, drop that; we are not at Bridgeford now; I am very hungry, and\nI believe half those birds are not quails but landrails.\u201d\n\nMy father saw he was safe. He said, \u201cPerhaps some of them might prove\nto be so, sir, under certain circumstances. I am a poor man, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come,\u201d said Hanky; and he slipped a sum equal to about\nhalf-a-crown into my father\u2019s hand.\n\n\u201cI do not know what you mean, sir,\u201d said my father, \u201cand if I did,\nhalf-a- crown would not be nearly enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cHanky,\u201d said Panky, \u201cyou must get this fellow to give you lessons.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV: MY FATHER OVERHEARS MORE OF HANKY AND PANKY\u2019S CONVERSATION\n\n\nMy father, schooled under adversity, knew that it was never well to\npress advantage too far. He took the equivalent of five shillings for\nthree brace, which was somewhat less than the birds would have been\nworth when things were as he had known them. Moreover, he consented\nto take a shilling\u2019s worth of Musical Bank money, which (as he has\nexplained in his book) has no appreciable value outside these banks.\nHe did this because he knew that it would be respectable to be seen\ncarrying a little Musical Bank money, and also because he wished to\ngive some of it to the British Museum, where he knew that this curious\ncoinage was unrepresented. But the coins struck him as being much\nthinner and smaller than he had remembered them.\n\nIt was Panky, not Hanky, who had given him the Musical Bank money.\nPanky was the greater humbug of the two, for he would humbug even\nhimself--a thing, by the way, not very hard to do; and yet he was\nthe less successful humbug, for he could humbug no one who was worth\nhumbugging--not for long. Hanky\u2019s occasional frankness put people\noff their guard. He was the mere common, superficial, perfunctory\nProfessor, who, being a Professor, would of course profess, but would\nnot lie more than was in the bond; he was log-rolled and log-rolling,\nbut still, in a robust wolfish fashion, human.\n\nPanky, on the other hand, was hardly human; he had thrown himself so\nearnestly into his work, that he had become a living lie. If he had had\nto play the part of Othello he would have blacked himself all over, and\nvery likely smothered his Desdemona in good earnest. Hanky would hardly\nhave blacked himself behind the ears, and his Desdemona would have been\nquite safe.\n\nPhilosophers are like quails in the respect that they can take two or\nthree flights of imagination, but rarely more without an interval of\nrepose. The Professors had imagined my father to be a poacher and a\nranger; they had imagined the quails to be wanted for Sunday\u2019s banquet;\nthey had imagined that they imagined (at least Panky had) that they\nwere about to eat landrails; they were now exhausted, and cowered down\ninto the grass of their ordinary conversation, paying no more attention\nto my father than if he had been a log. He, poor man, drank in every\nword they said, while seemingly intent on nothing but his quails, each\none of which he cut up with a knife borrowed from Hanky. Two had been\nplucked already, so he laid these at once upon the clear embers.\n\n\u201cI do not know what we are to do with ourselves,\u201d said Hanky, \u201ctill\nSunday. To-day is Thursday--it is the twenty-ninth, is it not? Yes,\nof course it is--Sunday is the first. Besides, it is on our permit.\nTo-morrow we can rest; what, I wonder, can we do on Saturday? But the\nothers will be here then, and we can tell them about the statues.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but mind you do not blurt out anything about the landrails.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think we may tell Dr. Downie.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell nobody,\u201d said Panky.\n\nThey then talked about the statues, concerning which it was plain that\nnothing was known. But my father soon broke in upon their conversation\nwith the first instalment of quails, which a few minutes had sufficed\nto cook.\n\n\u201cWhat a delicious bird a quail is,\u201d said Hanky.\n\n\u201cLandrail, Hanky, landrail,\u201d said the other reproachfully.\n\nHaving finished the first birds in a very few minutes they returned to\nthe statues.\n\n\u201cOld Mrs. Nosnibor,\u201d said Panky, \u201csays the Sunchild told her they were\nsymbolic of ten tribes who had incurred the displeasure of the sun, his\nfather.\u201d\n\nI make no comment on my father\u2019s feelings.\n\n\u201cOf the sun! his fiddlesticks\u2019 ends,\u201d retorted Hanky. \u201cHe never called\nthe sun his father. Besides, from all I have heard about him, I take it\nhe was a precious idiot.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Hanky, Hanky! you will wreck the whole thing if you ever allow\nyourself to talk in that way.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are more likely to wreck it yourself, Panky, by never doing so.\nPeople like being deceived, but they like also to have an inkling of\ntheir own deception, and you never inkle them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Queen,\u201d said Panky, returning to the statues, \u201csticks to it\nthat . . . \u201d\n\n\u201cHere comes another bird,\u201d interrupted Hanky; \u201cnever mind about the\nQueen.\u201d\n\nThe bird was soon eaten, whereon Panky again took up his parable about\nthe Queen.\n\n\u201cThe Queen says they are connected with the cult of the ancient Goddess\nKiss-me-quick.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat if they are? But the Queen sees Kiss-me-quick in everything.\nAnother quail, if you please, Mr. Ranger.\u201d\n\nMy father brought up another bird almost directly. Silence while it was\nbeing eaten.\n\n\u201cTalking of the Sunchild,\u201d said Panky; \u201cdid you ever see him?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever set eyes on him, and hope I never shall.\u201d\n\nAnd so on till the last bird was eaten.\n\n\u201cFellow,\u201d said Panky, \u201cfetch some more wood; the fire is nearly dead.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can find no more, sir,\u201d said my father, who was afraid lest some\ngenuine ranger might be attracted by the light, and was determined to\nlet it go out as soon as he had done cooking.\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d said Hanky, \u201cthe moon will be up soon.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, Hanky,\u201d said Panky, \u201ctell me what you propose to say on\nSunday. I suppose you have pretty well made up your mind about it by\nthis time.\u201d\n\n\u201cPretty nearly. I shall keep it much on the usual lines. I shall dwell\nupon the benighted state from which the Sunchild rescued us, and shall\nshow how the Musical Banks, by at once taking up the movement, have\nbeen the blessed means of its now almost universal success. I shall\ntalk about the immortal glory shed upon Sunch\u2019ston by the Sunchild\u2019s\nresidence in the prison, and wind up with the Sunchild Evidence\nSociety, and an earnest appeal for funds to endow the canonries\nrequired for the due service of the temple.\u201d\n\n\u201cTemple! what temple?\u201d groaned my father inwardly.\n\n\u201cAnd what are you going to do about the four black and white horses?\u201d\n\n\u201cStick to them, of course--unless I make them six.\u201d\n\n\u201cI really do not see why they might not have been horses.\u201d\n\n\u201cI dare say you do not,\u201d returned the other drily, \u201cbut they were black\nand white storks, and you know that as well as I do. Still, they have\ncaught on, and they are in the altar-piece, prancing and curvetting\nmagnificently, so I shall trot them out.\u201d\n\n\u201cAltar-piece! Altar-piece!\u201d again groaned my father inwardly.\n\nHe need not have groaned, for when he came to see the so-called altar-\npiece he found that the table above which it was placed had nothing in\ncommon with the altar in a Christian church. It was a mere table, on\nwhich were placed two bowls full of Musical Bank coins; two cashiers,\nwho sat on either side of it, dispensed a few of these to all comers,\nwhile there was a box in front of it wherein people deposited coin of\nthe realm according to their will or ability. The idea of sacrifice was\nnot contemplated, and the position of the table, as well as the name\ngiven to it, was an instance of the way in which the Erewhonians had\ncaught names and practices from my father, without understanding what\nthey either were or meant. So, again, when Professor Hanky had spoken\nof canonries, he had none but the vaguest idea of what a canonry is.\n\nI may add further that as a boy my father had had his Bible well\ndrilled into him, and never forgot it. Hence biblical passages and\nexpressions had been often in his mouth, as the effect of mere\nunconscious cerebration. The Erewhonians had caught many of these,\nsometimes corrupting them so that they were hardly recognizable. Things\nthat he remembered having said were continually meeting him during the\nfew days of his second visit, and it shocked him deeply to meet some\ngross travesty of his own words, or of words more sacred than his own,\nand yet to be unable to correct it. \u201cI wonder,\u201d he said to me, \u201cthat no\none has ever hit on this as a punishment for the damned in Hades.\u201d\n\nLet me now return to Professor Hanky, whom I fear that I have left too\nlong.\n\n\u201cAnd of course,\u201d he continued, \u201cI shall say all sorts of pretty things\nabout the Mayoress--for I suppose we must not even think of her as Yram\nnow.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Mayoress,\u201d replied Panky, \u201cis a very dangerous woman; see how she\nstood out about the way in which the Sunchild had worn his clothes\nbefore they gave him the then Erewhonian dress. Besides, she is a\nsceptic at heart, and so is that precious son of hers.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe was quite right,\u201d said Hanky, with something of a snort. \u201cShe\nbrought him his dinner while he was still wearing the clothes he came\nin, and if men do not notice how a man wears his clothes, women do.\nBesides, there are many living who saw him wear them.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said Panky, \u201cbut we should never have talked the King over\nif we had not humoured him on this point. Yram nearly wrecked us by her\nobstinacy. If we had not frightened her, and if your study, Hanky, had\nnot happened to have been burned . . . \u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come, Panky, no more of that.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I do not doubt that it was an accident; nevertheless if\nyour study had not been accidentally burned, on the very night the\nclothes were entrusted to you for earnest, patient, careful, scientific\ninvestigation--and Yram very nearly burned too--we should never have\ncarried it through. See what work we had to get the King to allow the\nway in which the clothes were worn to be a matter of opinion, not\ndogma. What a pity it is that the clothes were not burned before the\nKing\u2019s tailor had copied them.\u201d\n\nHanky laughed heartily enough. \u201cYes,\u201d he said, \u201cit was touch and go.\nWhy, I wonder, could not the Queen have put the clothes on a dummy that\nwould show back from front? As soon as it was brought into the council\nchamber the King jumped to a conclusion, and we had to bundle both\ndummy and Yram out of the royal presence, for neither she nor the King\nwould budge an inch.\u201d\n\nEven Panky smiled. \u201cWhat could we do? The common people almost worship\nYram; and so does her husband, though her fair-haired eldest son was\nborn barely seven months after marriage. The people in these parts\nlike to think that the Sunchild\u2019s blood is in the country, and yet\nthey swear through thick and thin that he is the Mayor\u2019s duly begotten\noffspring--Faugh! Do you think they would have stood his being jobbed\ninto the rangership by any one else but Yram?\u201d\n\nMy father\u2019s feelings may be imagined, but I will not here interrupt the\nProfessors.\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said Hanky; \u201cfor men must rob and women must job so long\nas the world goes on. I did the best I could. The King would never have\nembraced Sunchildism if I had not told him he was right; then, when\nsatisfied that we agreed with him, he yielded to popular prejudice and\nallowed the question to remain open. One of his Royal Professors was to\nwear the clothes one way, and the other the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy way of wearing them,\u201d said Panky, \u201cis much the most convenient.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot a bit of it,\u201d said Hanky warmly. On this the two Professors fell\nout, and the discussion grew so hot that my father interfered by\nadvising them not to talk so loud lest another ranger should hear them.\n\u201cYou know,\u201d he said, \u201cthere are a good many landrail bones lying about,\nand it might be awkward.\u201d\n\nThe Professors hushed at once. \u201cBy the way,\u201d said Panky, after a pause,\n\u201cit is very strange about those footprints in the snow. The man had\nevidently walked round the statues two or three times, as though they\nwere strange to him, and he had certainly come from the other side.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was one of the rangers,\u201d said Hanky impatiently, \u201cwho had gone a\nlittle beyond the statues, and come back again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we should have seen his footprints as he went. I am glad I\nmeasured them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is nothing in it; but what were your measurements?\u201d\n\n\u201cEleven inches by four and a half; nails on the soles; one nail missing\non the right foot and two on the left.\u201d Then, turning to my father\nquickly, he said, \u201cMy man, allow me to have a look at your boots.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, Panky, nonsense!\u201d\n\nNow my father by this time was wondering whether he should not set upon\nthese two men, kill them if he could, and make the best of his way\nback, but he had still a card to play.\n\n\u201cCertainly, sir,\u201d said he, \u201cbut I should tell you that they are not my\nboots.\u201d\n\nHe took off his right boot and handed it to Panky.\n\n\u201cExactly so! Eleven inches by four and a half, and one nail missing.\nAnd now, Mr. Ranger, will you be good enough to explain how you became\npossessed of that boot. You need not show me the other.\u201d And he spoke\nlike an examiner who was confident that he could floor his examinee in\n_viv\u00e2 voce_.\n\n\u201cYou know our orders,\u201d answered my father, \u201cyou have seen them on your\npermit. I met one of those foreign devils from the other side, of whom\nwe have had more than one lately; he came from out of the clouds that\nhang higher up, and as he had no permit and could not speak a word of\nour language, I gripped him, flung him, and strangled him. Thus far I\nwas only obeying orders, but seeing how much better his boots were than\nmine, and finding that they would fit me, I resolved to keep them. You\nmay be sure I should not have done so if I had known there was snow on\nthe top of the pass.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe could not invent that,\u201d said Hanky; \u201cit is plain he has not been up\nto the statues.\u201d\n\nPanky was staggered. \u201cAnd of course,\u201d said he ironically, \u201cyou took\nnothing from this poor wretch except his boots.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said my father, \u201cI will make a clean breast of everything. I\nflung his body, his clothes, and my own old boots into the pool; but\nI kept his blanket, some things he used for cooking, and some strange\nstuff that looks like dried leaves, as well as a small bag of something\nwhich I believe is gold. I thought I could sell the lot to some dealer\nin curiosities who would ask no questions.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what, pray, have you done with all these things?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are here, sir.\u201d And as he spoke he dived into the wood, returning\nwith the blanket, billy, pannikin, tea, and the little bag of nuggets,\nwhich he had kept accessible.\n\n\u201cThis is very strange,\u201d said Hanky, who was beginning to be afraid of\nmy father when he learned that he sometimes killed people.\n\nHere the Professors talked hurriedly to one another in a tongue\nwhich my father could not understand, but which he felt sure was the\nhypothetical language of which he has spoken in his book.\n\nPresently Hanky said to my father quite civilly, \u201cAnd what, my good\nman, do you propose to do with all these things? I should tell you at\nonce that what you take to be gold is nothing of the kind; it is a base\nmetal, hardly, if at all, worth more than copper.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have had enough of them; to-morrow morning I shall take them with me\nto the Blue Pool, and drop them into it.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a pity you should do that,\u201d said Hanky musingly: \u201cthe things are\ninteresting as curiosities, and--and--and--what will you take for them?\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not do it, sir,\u201d answered my father. \u201cI would not do it, no,\nnot for--\u201d and he named a sum equivalent to about five pounds of our\nmoney. For he wanted Erewhonian money, and thought it worth his while\nto sacrifice his ten pounds\u2019 worth of nuggets in order to get a supply\nof current coin.\n\nHanky tried to beat him down, assuring him that no curiosity dealer\nwould give half as much, and my father so far yielded as to take \u00a34,\n10s. in silver, which, as I have already explained, would not be worth\nmore than half a sovereign in gold. At this figure a bargain was\nstruck, and the Professors paid up without offering him a single\nMusical Bank coin. They wanted to include the boots in the purchase,\nbut here my father stood out.\n\nBut he could not stand out as regards another matter, which caused him\nsome anxiety. Panky insisted that my father should give them a receipt\nfor the money, and there was an altercation between the Professors\non this point, much longer than I can here find space to give. Hanky\nargued that a receipt was useless, inasmuch as it would be ruin to my\nfather ever to refer to the subject again. Panky, however, was anxious,\nnot lest my father should again claim the money, but (though he did\nnot say so outright) lest Hanky should claim the whole purchase as his\nown. In so the end Panky, for a wonder, carried the day, and a receipt\nwas drawn up to the effect that the undersigned acknowledged to have\nreceived from Professors Hanky and Panky the sum of \u00a34, 10s. (I\ntranslate the amount), as joint purchasers of certain pieces of yellow\nore, a blanket, and sundry articles found without an owner in the\nKing\u2019s preserves. This paper was dated, as the permit had been, XIX.\nxii. 29.\n\nMy father, generally so ready, was at his wits\u2019 end for a name, and\ncould think of none but Mr. Nosnibor\u2019s. Happily, remembering that\nthis gentleman had also been called Senoj--a name common enough in\nErewhon--he signed himself \u201cSenoj, Under-ranger.\u201d\n\nPanky was now satisfied. \u201cWe will put it in the bag,\u201d he said, \u201cwith\nthe pieces of yellow ore.\u201d\n\n\u201cPut it where you like,\u201d said Hanky contemptuously; and into the bag it\nwas put.\n\nWhen all was now concluded, my father laughingly said, \u201cIf you have\ndealt unfairly by me, I forgive you. My motto is, \u2018Forgive us our\ntrespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cRepeat those last words,\u201d said Panky eagerly. My father was alarmed at\nhis manner, but thought it safer to repeat them.\n\n\u201cYou hear that, Hanky? I am convinced; I have not another word to\nsay. The man is a true Erewhonian; he has our corrupt reading of the\nSunchild\u2019s prayer.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlease explain.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, can you not see?\u201d said Panky, who was by way of being great at\nconjectural emendations. \u201cCan you not see how impossible it is for the\nSunchild, or any of the people to whom he declared (as we now know\nprovisionally) that he belonged, could have made the forgiveness of his\nown sins depend on the readiness with which he forgave other people?\nNo man in his senses would dream of such a thing. It would be asking a\nsupposed all-powerful being not to forgive his sins at all, or at best\nto forgive them imperfectly. No; Yram got it wrong. She mistook \u2018but\ndo not\u2019 for \u2018as we.\u2019 The sound of the words is very much alike; the\ncorrect reading should obviously be, \u2018Forgive us our trespasses, but do\nnot forgive them that trespass against us.\u2019 This makes sense, and turns\nan impossible prayer into one that goes straight to the heart of every\none of us.\u201d Then, turning to my father, he said, \u201cYou can see this, my\nman, can you not, as soon as it is pointed out to you?\u201d\n\nMy father said that he saw it now, but had always heard the words as he\nhad himself spoken them.\n\n\u201cOf course you have, my good fellow, and it is because of this that I\nknow they never can have reached you except from an Erewhonian source.\u201d\n\nHanky smiled,--snorted, and muttered in an undertone, \u201cI shall begin to\nthink that this fellow is a foreign devil after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, gentlemen,\u201d said my father, \u201cthe moon is risen. I must be\nafter the quails at daybreak; I will therefore go to the ranger\u2019s\nshelter\u201d (a shelter, by the way, which existed only in my father\u2019s\ninvention), \u201cand get a couple of hours\u2019 sleep, so as to be both close\nto the quail-ground; and fresh for running. You are so near the\nboundary of the preserves that you will not want your permit further;\nno one will meet you, and should any one do so, you need only give your\nnames and say that you have made a mistake. You will have to give it up\nto-morrow at the Ranger\u2019s office; it will save you trouble if I collect\nit now, and give it up when I deliver my quails.\n\n\u201cAs regards the curiosities, hide them as you best can outside the\nlimits. I recommend you to carry them at once out of the forest, and\nrest beyond the limits rather than here. You can then recover them\nwhenever, and in whatever way, you may find convenient. But I hope you\nwill say nothing about any foreign devil\u2019s having come over on to this\nside. Any whisper to this effect unsettles people\u2019s minds, and they are\ntoo much unsettled already; hence our orders to kill any one from over\nthere at once, and to tell no one but the Head Ranger. I was forced\nby you, gentlemen, to disobey these orders in self-defence; I must\ntrust your generosity to keep what I have told you secret. I shall, of\ncourse, report it to the Head Ranger. And now, if you think proper, you\ncan give me up your permit.\u201d\n\nAll this was so plausible that the Professors gave up their permit\nwithout a word but thanks. They bundled their curiosities hurriedly\ninto \u201cthe poor foreign devil\u2019s\u201d blanket, reserving a more careful\npacking till they were out of the preserves. They wished my father a\nvery good night, and all success with his quails in the morning; they\nthanked him again for the care he had taken of them in the matter of\nthe landrails, and Panky even went so far as to give him a few Musical\nBank coins, which he gratefully accepted. They then started off in the\ndirection of Sunch\u2019ston.\n\nMy father gathered up the remaining quails, some of which he meant to\neat in the morning, while the others he would throw away as soon as he\ncould find a safe place. He turned towards the mountains, but before\nhe had gone a dozen yards he heard a voice, which he recognised as\nPanky\u2019s, shouting after him, and saying--\n\n\u201cMind you do not forget the true reading of the Sunchild\u2019s prayer.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are an old fool,\u201d shouted my father in English, knowing that he\ncould hardly be heard, still less understood, and thankful to relieve\nhis feelings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V: MY FATHER MEETS A SON, OF WHOSE EXISTENCE HE WAS IGNORANT;\nAND STRIKES A BARGAIN WITH HIM\n\n\nThe incidents recorded in the two last chapters had occupied about two\nhours, so that it was nearly midnight before my father could begin\nto retrace his steps and make towards the camp that he had left that\nmorning. This was necessary, for he could not go any further in a\ncostume that he now knew to be forbidden. At this hour no ranger was\nlikely to meet him before he reached the statues, and by making a push\nfor it he could return in time to cross the limits of the preserves\nbefore the Professors\u2019 permit had expired. If challenged, he must\nbrazen it out that he was one or other of the persons therein named.\n\nFatigued though he was, he reached the statues as near as he could\nguess, at about three in the morning. What little wind there had been\nwas warm, so that the tracks, which the Professors must have seen\nshortly after he had made them, had disappeared. The statues looked\nvery weird in the moonlight but they were not chanting.\n\nWhile ascending, he pieced together the information he had picked up\nfrom the Professors. Plainly, the Sunchild, or child of the sun, was\nnone other than himself, and the new name of Coldharbour was doubtless\nintended to commemorate the fact that this was the first town he had\nreached in Erewhon. Plainly, also, he was supposed to be of superhuman\norigin--his flight in the balloon having been not unnaturally believed\nto be miraculous. The Erewhonians had for centuries been effacing\nall knowledge of their former culture; archaeologists, indeed, could\nstill glean a little from museums, and from volumes hard to come by,\nand still harder to understand; but archaeologists were few, and even\nthough they had made researches (which they may or may not have done),\ntheir labours had never reached the masses. What wonder, then, that the\nmushroom spawn of myth, ever present in an atmosphere highly charged\nwith ignorance, had germinated in a soil so favourably prepared for its\nreception?\n\nHe saw it all now. It was twenty years next Sunday since he and my\nmother had eloped. That was the meaning of XIX. xii. 29. They had made\na new era, dating from the day of his return to the palace of the sun\nwith a bride who was doubtless to unite the Erewhonian nature with\nthat of the sun. The New Year, then, would date from Sunday, December\n7, which would therefore become XX. i. 1. The Thursday, now nearly if\nnot quite over, being only two days distant from the end of a month of\nthirty- one days, which was also the last of the year, would be XIX.\nxii. 29, as on the Professors\u2019 permit.\n\nI should like to explain here what will appear more clearly on a later\npage--I mean, that the Erewhonians, according to their new system,\ndo not believe the sun to be a god except as regards this world and\nhis other planets. My father had told them a little about astronomy,\nand had assured them that all the fixed stars were suns like our own,\nwith planets revolving round them, which were probably tenanted by\nintelligent living beings, however unlike they might be to ourselves.\nFrom this they evolved the theory that the sun was the ruler of\nthis planetary system, and that he must be personified, as they had\npersonified the air-god, the gods of time and space, hope, justice,\nand the other deities mentioned in my father\u2019s book. They retain their\nold belief in the actual existence of these gods, but they now make\nthem all subordinate to the sun. The nearest approach they make to our\nown conception of God is to say that He is the ruler over all the suns\nthroughout the universe--the suns being to Him much as our planets\nand their denizens are to our own sun. They deny that He takes more\ninterest in one sun and its system than in another. All the suns with\ntheir attendant planets are supposed to be equally His children, and He\ndeputes to each sun the supervision and protection of its own system.\nHence they say that though we may pray to the air-god, &c., and even\nto the sun, we must not pray to God. We may be thankful to Him for\nwatching over the suns, but we must not go further.\n\nGoing back to my father\u2019s reflections, he perceived that the\nErewhonians had not only adopted our calendar, as he had repeatedly\nexplained it to the Nosnibors, but had taken our week as well, and were\nmaking Sunday a high day, just as we do. Next Sunday, in commemoration\nof the twentieth year after his ascent, they were about to dedicate\na temple to him; in this there was to be a picture showing himself\nand his earthly bride on their heavenward journey, in a chariot drawn\nby four black and white horses--which, however, Professor Hanky had\npositively affirmed to have been only storks.\n\nHere I interrupted my father. \u201cBut were there,\u201d I said, \u201cany storks?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d he answered. \u201cAs soon as I heard Hanky\u2019s words I remembered that\na flight of some four or five of the large storks so common in Erewhon\nduring the summer months had been wheeling high aloft in one of those\na\u00ebrial dances that so much delight them. I had quite forgotten it, but\nit came back to me at once that these creatures, attracted doubtless\nby what they took to be an unknown kind of bird, swooped down towards\nthe balloon and circled round it like so many satellites to a heavenly\nbody. I was fearful lest they should strike at it with their long and\nformidable beaks, in which case all would have been soon over; either\nthey were afraid, or they had satisfied their curiosity--at any rate,\nthey let us alone; but they kept with us till we were well away from\nthe capital. Strange, how completely this incident had escaped me.\u201d\n\nI return to my father\u2019s thoughts as he made his way back to his old\ncamp.\n\nAs for the reversed position of Professor Panky\u2019s clothes, he\nremembered having given his own old ones to the Queen, and having\nthought that she might have got a better dummy on which to display them\nthan the headless scarecrow, which, however, he supposed was all her\nladies-in-waiting could lay their hands on at the moment. If that dummy\nhad never been replaced, it was perhaps not very strange that the King\ncould not at the first glance tell back from front, and if he did not\nguess right at first, there was little chance of his changing, for his\nfirst ideas were apt to be his last. But he must find out more about\nthis.\n\nThen how about the watch? Had their views about machinery also changed?\nOr was there an exception made about any machine that he had himself\ncarried?\n\nYram too. She must have been married not long after she and he had\nparted. So she was now wife to the Mayor, and was evidently able to\nhave things pretty much her own way in Sunch\u2019ston, as he supposed he\nmust now call it. Thank heaven she was prosperous! It was interesting\nto know that she was at heart a sceptic, as was also her light-haired\nson, now Head Ranger. And that son? Just twenty years of age! Born\nseven months after marriage! Then the Mayor doubtless had light hair\ntoo; but why did not those wretches say in which month Yram was\nmarried? If she had married soon after he had left, this was why he had\nnot been sent for or written to. Pray heaven it was so. As for current\ngossip, people would talk, and if the lad was well begotten, what could\nit matter to them whose son he was? \u201cBut,\u201d thought my father, \u201cI am\nglad I did not meet him on my way down. I had rather have been killed\nby some one else.\u201d\n\nHanky and Panky again. He remembered Bridgeford as the town where the\nColleges of Unreason had been most rife; he had visited it, but he had\nforgotten that it was called \u201cThe city of the people who are above\nsuspicion.\u201d Its Professors were evidently going to muster in great\nforce on Sunday; if two of them had robbed him, he could forgive them,\nfor the information he had gleaned from them had furnished him with a\n_pied \u00e0 terre_. Moreover, he had got as much Erewhonian money as he\nshould want, for he had resolved to retrace his steps immediately after\nseeing the temple dedicated to himself. He knew the danger he should\nrun in returning over the preserves without a permit, but his curiosity\nwas so great that he resolved to risk it.\n\nSoon after he had passed the statues he began to descend, and it being\nnow broad day, he did so by leaps and bounds, for the ground was not\nprecipitous. He reached his old camp soon after five--this, at any\nrate, was the hour at which he set his watch on finding that it had\nrun down during his absence. There was now no reason why he should not\ntake it with him, so he put it in his pocket. The parrots had attacked\nhis saddle-bags, saddle, and bridle, as they were sure to do, but\nthey had not got inside the bags. He took out his English clothes and\nput them on--stowing his bags of gold in various pockets, but keeping\nhis Erewhonian money in the one that was most accessible. He put his\nErewhonian dress back into the saddle-bags, intending to keep it as a\ncuriosity; he also refreshed the dye upon his hands, face, and hair; he\nlit himself a fire, made tea, cooked and ate two brace of quails, which\nhe had plucked while walking so as to save time, and then flung himself\non to the ground to snatch an hour\u2019s very necessary rest. When he woke\nhe found he had slept two hours, not one, which was perhaps as well,\nand by eight he began to reascend the pass.\n\nHe reached the statues about noon, for he allowed himself not a\nmoment\u2019s rest. This time there was a stiffish wind, and they were\nchanting lustily. He passed them with all speed, and had nearly reached\nthe place where he had caught the quails, when he saw a man in a dress\nwhich he guessed at once to be a ranger\u2019s, but which, strangely enough,\nseeing that he was in the King\u2019s employ, was not reversed. My father\u2019s\nheart beat fast; he got out his permit and held it open in his hand,\nthen with a smiling face he went towards the Ranger, who was standing\nhis ground.\n\n\u201cI believe you are the Head Ranger,\u201d said my father, who saw that he\nwas still smooth-faced and had light hair. \u201cI am Professor Panky, and\nhere is my permit. My brother Professor has been prevented from coming\nwith me, and, as you see, I am alone.\u201d\n\nMy father had professed to pass himself off as Panky, for he had rather\ngathered that Hanky was the better known man of the two.\n\nWhile the youth was scrutinising the permit, evidently with suspicion,\nmy father took stock of him, and saw his own past self in him too\nplainly--knowing all he knew--to doubt whose son he was. He had the\ngreatest difficulty in hiding his emotion, for the lad was indeed one\nof whom any father might be proud. He longed to be able to embrace him\nand claim him for what he was, but this, as he well knew, might not be.\nThe tears again welled into his eyes when he told me of the struggle\nwith himself that he had then had.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be jealous, my dearest boy,\u201d he said to me. \u201cI love you quite as\ndearly as I love him, or better, but he was sprung upon me so suddenly,\nand dazzled me with his comely debonair face, so full of youth, and\nhealth, and frankness. Did you see him, he would go straight to your\nheart, for he is wonderfully like you in spite of your taking so much\nafter your poor mother.\u201d\n\nI was not jealous; on the contrary, I longed to see this youth, and\nfind in him such a brother as I had often wished to have. But let me\nreturn to my father\u2019s story.\n\nThe young man, after examining the permit, declared it to be in form,\nand returned it to my father, but he eyed him with polite disfavour.\n\n\u201cI suppose,\u201d he said, \u201cyou have come up, as so many are doing, from\nBridgeford and all over the country, to the dedication on Sunday.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said my father. \u201cBless me!\u201d he added, \u201cwhat a wind you have up\nhere! How it makes one\u2019s eyes water, to be sure;\u201d but he spoke with a\ncluck in his throat which no wind that blows can cause.\n\n\u201cHave you met any suspicious characters between here and the statues?\u201d\nasked the youth. \u201cI came across the ashes of a fire lower down; there\nhad been three men sitting for some time round it, and they had all\nbeen eating quails. Here are some of the bones and feathers, which I\nshall keep. They had not been gone more than a couple of hours, for the\nashes were still warm; they are getting bolder and bolder--who would\nhave thought they would dare to light a fire? I suppose you have not\nmet any one; but if you have seen a single person, let me know.\u201d\n\nMy father said quite truly that he had met no one. He then laughingly\nasked how the youth had been able to discover as much as he had.\n\n\u201cThere were three well-marked forms, and three separate lots of quail\nbones hidden in the ashes. One man had done all the plucking. This is\nstrange, but I dare say I shall get at it later.\u201d\n\nAfter a little further conversation the Ranger said he was now going\ndown to Sunch\u2019ston, and, though somewhat curtly, proposed that he and\nmy father should walk together.\n\n\u201cBy all means,\u201d answered my father.\n\nBefore they had gone more than a few hundred yards his companion said,\n\u201cIf you will come with me a little to the left, I can show you the Blue\nPool.\u201d\n\nTo avoid the precipitous ground over which the stream here fell, they\nhad diverged to the right, where they had found a smoother descent;\nreturning now to the stream, which was about to enter on a level\nstretch for some distance, they found themselves on the brink of a\nrocky basin, of no great size, but very blue, and evidently deep.\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d said the Ranger, \u201cis where our orders tell us to fling any\nforeign devil who comes over from the other side. I have only been Head\nRanger about nine months, and have not yet had to face this horrid\nduty; but,\u201d and here he smiled, \u201cwhen I first caught sight of you I\nthought I should have to make a beginning. I was very glad when I saw\nyou had a permit.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how many skeletons do you suppose are lying at the bottom of this\npool?\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe not more than seven or eight in all. There were three or\nfour about eighteen years ago, and about the same number of late years;\none man was flung here only about three months before I was appointed.\nI have the full list, with dates, down in my office, but the rangers\nnever let people in Sunch\u2019ston know when they have Blue-Pooled any one;\nit would unsettle men\u2019s minds, and some of them would be coming up here\nin the dark to drag the pool, and see whether they could find anything\non the body.\u201d\n\nMy father was glad to turn away from this most repulsive place. After\na time he said, \u201cAnd what do you good people hereabouts think of next\nSunday\u2019s grand doings?\u201d\n\nBearing in mind what he had gleaned from the Professors about the\nRanger\u2019s opinions, my father gave a slightly ironical turn to his\npronunciation of the words \u201cgrand doings.\u201d The youth glanced at him\nwith a quick penetrative look, and laughed as he said, \u201cThe doings will\nbe grand enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a fine temple they have built,\u201d said my father. \u201cI have not yet\nseen the picture, but they say the four black and white horses are\nmagnificently painted. I saw the Sunchild ascend, but I saw no horses\nin the sky, nor anything like horses.\u201d\n\nThe youth was much interested. \u201cDid you really see him ascend?\u201d he\nasked; \u201cand what, pray, do you think it all was?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhatever it was, there were no horses.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut there must have been, for, as you of course know, they have lately\nfound some droppings from one of them, which have been miraculously\npreserved, and they are going to show them next Sunday in a gold\nreliquary.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know,\u201d said my father, who, however, was learning the fact for the\nfirst time. \u201cI have not yet seen this precious relic, but I think they\nmight have found something less unpleasant.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps they would if they could,\u201d replied the youth, laughing, \u201cbut\nthere was nothing else that the horses could leave. It is only a number\nof curiously rounded stones, and not at all like what they say it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d continued my father, \u201cbut relic or no relic, there are\nmany who, while they fully recognise the value of the Sunchild\u2019s\nteaching, dislike these cock and bull stories as blasphemy against\nGod\u2019s most blessed gift of reason. There are many in Bridgeford who\nhate this story of the horses.\u201d\n\nThe youth was now quite reassured. \u201cSo there are here, sir,\u201d he said\nwarmly, \u201cand who hate the Sunchild too. If there is such a hell as he\nused to talk about to my mother, we doubt not but that he will be cast\ninto its deepest fires. See how he has turned us all upside down. But\nwe dare not say what we think. There is no courage left in Erewhon.\u201d\n\nThen waxing calmer he said, \u201cIt is you Bridgeford people and your\nMusical Banks that have done it all. The Musical Bank Managers saw\nthat the people were falling away from them. Finding that the vulgar\nbelieved this foreign devil Higgs--for he gave this name to my mother\nwhen he was in prison--finding that--But you know all this as well as\nI do. How can you Bridgeford Professors pretend to believe about these\nhorses, and about the Sunchild\u2019s being son to the sun, when all the\ntime you know there is no truth in it?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son--for considering the difference in our ages I may be allowed\nto call you so--we at Bridgeford are much like you at Sunch\u2019ston; we\ndare not always say what we think. Nor would it be wise to do so, when\nwe should not be listened to. This fire must burn itself out, for it\nhas got such hold that nothing can either stay or turn it. Even though\nHiggs himself were to return and tell it from the house-tops that he\nwas a mortal--ay, and a very common one--he would be killed, but not\nbelieved.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him come; let him show himself, speak out and die, if the people\nchoose to kill him. In that case I would forgive him, accept him for my\nfather, as silly people sometimes say he is, and honour him to my dying\nday.\u201d\n\n\u201cWould that be a bargain?\u201d said my father, smiling in spite of emotion\nso strong that he could hardly bring the words out of his mouth.\n\n\u201cYes, it would,\u201d said the youth doggedly.\n\n\u201cThen let me shake hands with you on his behalf, and let us change the\nconversation.\u201d\n\nHe took my father\u2019s hand, doubtfully and somewhat disdainfully, but he\ndid not refuse it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI: FURTHER CONVERSATION BETWEEN FATHER AND SON--THE\nPROFESSORS\u2019 HOARD\n\n\nIt is one thing to desire a conversation to be changed, and another to\nchange it. After some little silence my father said, \u201cAnd may I ask\nwhat name your mother gave you?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name,\u201d he answered, laughing, \u201cis George, and I wish it were some\nother, for it is the first name of that arch-impostor Higgs. I hate it\nas I hate the man who owned it.\u201d\n\nMy father said nothing, but he hid his face in his hands.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said the other, \u201cI fear you are in some distress.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou remind me,\u201d replied my father, \u201cof a son who was stolen from me\nwhen he was a child. I searched for him, during many years, and at last\nfell in with him by accident, to find him all the heart of father could\nwish. But alas! he did not take kindly to me as I to him, and after two\ndays he left me; nor shall I ever again see him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, sir, had I not better leave you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, stay with me till your road takes you elsewhere; for though I\ncannot see my son, you are so like him that I could almost fancy he\nis with me. And now--for I shall show no more weakness--you say your\nmother knew the Sunchild, as I am used to call him. Tell me what kind\nof a man she found him.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe liked him well enough in spite of his being a little silly. She\ndoes not believe he ever called himself child of the sun. He used\nto say he had a father in heaven to whom he prayed, and who could\nhear him; but he said that all of us, my mother as much as he, have\nthis unseen father. My mother does not believe he meant doing us any\nharm, but only that he wanted to get himself and Mrs. Nosnibor\u2019s\nyounger daughter out of the country. As for there having been anything\nsupernatural about the balloon, she will have none of it; she says that\nit was some machine which he knew how to make, but which we have lost\nthe art of making, as we have of many another.\n\n\u201cThis is what she says amongst ourselves, but in public she confirms\nall that the Musical Bank Managers say about him. She is afraid of\nthem. You know, perhaps, that Professor Hanky, whose name I see on your\npermit, tried to burn her alive?\u201d\n\n\u201cThank heaven!\u201d thought my father, \u201cthat I am Panky;\u201d but aloud he\nsaid, \u201cOh, horrible! horrible! I cannot believe this even of Hanky.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe denies it, and we say we believe him; he was most kind and\nattentive to my mother during all the rest of her stay in Bridgeford.\nHe and she parted excellent friends, but I know what she thinks. I\nshall be sure to see him while he is in Sunch\u2019ston, I shall have to be\ncivil to him but it makes me sick to think of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen shall you see him?\u201d said my father, who was alarmed at learning\nthat Hanky and the Ranger were likely to meet. Who could tell but that\nhe might see Panky too?\n\n\u201cI have been away from home a fortnight, and shall not be back till\nlate on Saturday night. I do not suppose I shall see him before Sunday.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will do,\u201d thought my father, who at that moment deemed that\nnothing would matter to him much when Sunday was over. Then, turning to\nthe Ranger, he said, \u201cI gather, then, that your mother does not think\nso badly of the Sunchild after all?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe laughs at him sometimes, but if any of us boys and girls say a\nword against him we get snapped up directly. My mother turns every one\nround her finger. Her word is law in Sunch\u2019ston; every one obeys her;\nshe has faced more than one mob, and quelled them when my father could\nnot do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can believe all you say of her. What other children has she besides\nyourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are four sons, of whom the youngest is now fourteen, and three\ndaughters.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay all health and happiness attend her and you, and all of you,\nhenceforth and for ever,\u201d and my father involuntarily bared his head as\nhe spoke.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said the youth, impressed by the fervency of my father\u2019s manner,\n\u201cI thank you, but you do not talk as Bridgeford Professors generally\ndo, so far as I have seen or heard them. Why do you wish us all well so\nvery heartily? Is it because you think I am like your son, or is there\nsome other reason?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not my son alone that you resemble,\u201d said my father tremulously,\nfor he knew he was going too far. He carried it off by adding, \u201cYou\nresemble all who love truth and hate lies, as I do.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, sir,\u201d said the youth gravely, \u201cyou much belie your reputation.\nAnd now I must leave you for another part of the preserves, where I\nthink it likely that last night\u2019s poachers may now be, and where I\nshall pass the night in watching for them. You may want your permit for\na few miles further, so I will not take it. Neither need you give it up\nat Sunch\u2019ston. It is dated, and will be useless after this evening.\u201d\n\nWith this he strode off into the forest, bowing politely but somewhat\ncoldly, and without encouraging my father\u2019s half proffered hand.\n\nMy father turned sad and unsatisfied away.\n\n\u201cIt serves me right,\u201d he said to himself; \u201che ought never to have\nbeen my son; and yet, if such men can be brought by hook or by crook\ninto the world, surely the world should not ask questions about the\nbringing. How cheerless everything looks now that he has left me.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\nBy this time it was three o\u2019clock, and in another few minutes my father\ncame upon the ashes of the fire beside which he and the Professors had\nsupped on the preceding evening. It was only some eighteen hours since\nthey had come upon him, and yet what an age it seemed! It was well the\nRanger had left him, for though my father, of course, would have known\nnothing about either fire or poachers, it might have led to further\nfalsehood, and by this time he had become exhausted--not to say, for\nthe time being, sick of lies altogether.\n\nHe trudged slowly on, without meeting a soul, until he came upon some\nstones that evidently marked the limits of the preserves. When he\nhad got a mile or so beyond these, he struck a narrow and not much\nfrequented path, which he was sure would lead him towards Sunch\u2019ston,\nand soon afterwards, seeing a huge old chestnut tree some thirty or\nforty yards from the path itself, he made towards it and flung himself\non the ground beneath its branches. There were abundant signs that he\nwas nearing farm lands and homesteads, but there was no one about,\nand if any one saw him there was nothing in his appearance to arouse\nsuspicion.\n\nHe determined, therefore, to rest here till hunger should wake him, and\ndrive him into Sunch\u2019ston, which, however, he did not wish to reach\ntill dusk if he could help it. He meant to buy a valise and a few\ntoilette necessaries before the shops should close, and then engage a\nbedroom at the least frequented inn he could find that looked fairly\nclean and comfortable.\n\nHe slept till nearly six, and on waking gathered his thoughts together.\nHe could not shake his newly found son from out of them, but there was\nno good in dwelling upon him now, and he turned his thoughts to the\nProfessors. How, he wondered, were they getting on, and what had they\ndone with the things they had bought from him?\n\n\u201cHow delightful it would be,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cif I could find\nwhere they have hidden their hoard, and hide it somewhere else.\u201d\n\nHe tried to project his mind into those of the Professors, as though\nthey were a team of straying bullocks whose probable action he must\ndetermine before he set out to look for them.\n\nOn reflection, he concluded that the hidden property was not likely\nto be far from the spot on which he now was. The Professors would\nwait till they had got some way down towards Sunch\u2019ston, so as to\nhave readier access to their property when they wanted to remove\nit; but when they came upon a path and other signs that inhabited\ndwellings could not be far distant, they would begin to look out for\na hiding-place. And they would take pretty well the first that came.\n\u201cWhy, bless my heart,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cthis tree is hollow; I wonder\nwhether--\u201d and on looking up he saw an innocent little strip of the\nvery tough fibrous leaf commonly used while green as string, or even\nrope, by the Erewhonians. The plant that makes this leaf is so like\nthe ubiquitous New Zealand _Phormium tenax_, or flax, as it is there\ncalled, that I shall speak of it as flax in future, as indeed I have\nalready done without explanation on an earlier page; for this plant\ngrows on both sides of the great range. The piece of flax, then, which\nmy father caught sight of was fastened, at no great height from the\nground, round the branch of a strong sucker that had grown from the\nroots of the chestnut tree, and going thence for a couple of feet or so\ntowards the place where the parent tree became hollow, it disappeared\ninto the cavity below. My father had little difficulty in swarming the\nsucker till he reached the bough on to which the flax was tied, and\nsoon found himself hauling up something from the bottom of the tree.\nIn less time than it takes to tell the tale he saw his own familiar\nred blanket begin to show above the broken edge of the hollow, and in\nanother second there was a clinkum-clankum as the bundle fell upon\nthe ground. This was caused by the billy and the pannikin, which were\nwrapped inside the blanket. As for the blanket, it had been tied\ntightly at both ends, as well as at several points between, and my\nfather inwardly complimented the Professors on the neatness with which\nthey had packed and hidden their purchase. \u201cBut,\u201d he said to himself\nwith a laugh, \u201cI think one of them must have got on the other\u2019s back to\nreach that bough.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d thought he, \u201cthey will have taken the nuggets with them.\u201d\nAnd yet he had seemed to hear a dumping as well as a clinkum-clankum.\nHe undid the blanket, carefully untying every knot and keeping the\nflax. When he had unrolled it, he found to his very pleasurable\nsurprise that the pannikin was inside the billy, and the nuggets with\nthe receipt inside the pannikin. The paper containing the tea having\nbeen torn, was wrapped up in a handkerchief marked with Hanky\u2019s name.\n\n\u201cDown, conscience, down!\u201d he exclaimed as he transferred the nuggets,\nreceipt, and handkerchief to his own pocket. \u201cEye of my soul that you\nare! if you offend me I must pluck you out.\u201d His conscience feared him\nand said nothing. As for the tea, he left it in its torn paper.\n\nHe then put the billy, pannikin, and tea, back again inside the\nblanket, which he tied neatly up, tie for tie with the Professor\u2019s own\nflax, leaving no sign of any disturbance. He again swarmed the sucker,\ntill he reached the bough to which the blanket and its contents had\nbeen made fast, and having attached the bundle, he dropped it back into\nthe hollow of the tree. He did everything quite leisurely, for the\nProfessors would be sure to wait till nightfall before coming to fetch\ntheir property away.\n\n\u201cIf I take nothing but the nuggets,\u201d he argued, \u201ceach of the Professors\nwill suspect the other of having conjured them into his own pocket\nwhile the bundle was being made up. As for the handkerchief, they must\nthink what they like; but it will puzzle Hanky to know why Panky should\nhave been so anxious for a receipt, if he meant stealing the nuggets.\nLet them muddle it out their own way.\u201d\n\nReflecting further, he concluded, perhaps rightly, that they had left\nthe nuggets where he had found them, because neither could trust the\nother not to filch a few, if he had them in his own possession, and\nthey could not make a nice division without a pair of scales. \u201cAt any\nrate,\u201d he said to himself, \u201cthere will be a pretty quarrel when they\nfind them gone.\u201d\n\nThus charitably did he brood over things that were not to happen.\nThe discovery of the Professors\u2019 hoard had refreshed him almost as\nmuch as his sleep had done, and it being now past seven, he lit his\npipe--which, however, he smoked as furtively as he had done when he\nwas a boy at school, for he knew not whether smoking had yet become an\nErewhonian virtue or no--and walked briskly on towards Sunch\u2019ston.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII: SIGNS OF THE NEW ORDER OF THINGS CATCH MY FATHER\u2019S EYE ON\nEVERY SIDE\n\n\nHe had not gone far before a turn in the path--now rapidly\nwidening--showed him two high towers, seemingly some two miles off;\nthese he felt sure must be at Sunch\u2019ston, he therefore stepped out,\nlest he should find the shops shut before he got there.\n\nOn his former visit he had seen little of the town, for he was in\nprison during his whole stay. He had had a glimpse of it on being\nbrought there by the people of the village where he had spent his\nfirst night in Erewhon--a village which he had seen at some little\ndistance on his right hand, but which it would have been out of his way\nto visit, even if he had wished to do so; and he had seen the Museum\nof old machines, but on leaving the prison he had been blindfolded.\nNevertheless he felt sure that if the towers had been there he should\nhave seen them, and rightly guessed that they must belong to the temple\nwhich was to be dedicated to himself on Sunday.\n\nWhen he had passed through the suburbs he found himself in the main\nstreet. Space will not allow me to dwell on more than a few of the\nthings which caught his eye, and assured him that the change in\nErewhonian habits and opinions had been even more cataclysmic than\nhe had already divined. The first important building that he came to\nproclaimed itself as the College of Spiritual Athletics, and in the\nwindow of a shop that was evidently affiliated to the college he saw\nan announcement that moral try-your-strengths, suitable for every kind\nof ordinary temptation, would be provided on the shortest notice. Some\nof those that aimed at the more common kinds of temptation were kept\nin stock, but these consisted chiefly of trials to the temper. On\ndropping, for example, a penny into a slot, you could have a jet of\nfine pepper, flour, or brickdust, whichever you might prefer, thrown on\nto your face, and thus discover whether your composure stood in need\nof further development or no. My father gathered this from the writing\nthat was pasted on to the try-your-strength, but he had no time to go\ninside the shop and test either the machine or his own temper. Other\ntemptations to irritability required the agency of living people,\nor at any rate living beings. Crying children, screaming parrots, a\nspiteful monkey, might be hired on ridiculously easy terms. He saw one\nadvertisement, nicely framed, which ran as follows:-\n\n   \u201cMrs. Tantrums, Nagger, certificated by the College of Spiritual\n   Athletics. Terms for ordinary nagging, two shillings and sixpence per\n   hour. Hysterics extra.\u201d\n\nThen followed a series of testimonials--for example:-\n\n   \u201cDear Mrs. Tantrums,--I have for years been tortured with a husband of\n   unusually peevish, irritable temper, who made my life so intolerable\n   that I sometimes answered him in a way that led to his using personal\n   violence towards me. After taking a course of twelve sittings from\n   you, I found my husband\u2019s temper comparatively angelic, and we have\n   ever since lived together in complete harmony.\u201d\n\nAnother was from a husband:-\n\n   \u201cMr. --- presents his compliments to Mrs. Tantrums, and begs to assure\n   her that her extra special hysterics have so far surpassed anything\n   his wife can do, as to render him callous to those attacks which he\n   had formerly found so distressing.\u201d\n\nThere were many others of a like purport, but time did not permit my\nfather to do more than glance at them. He contented himself with the two\nfollowing, of which the first ran:-\n\n   \u201cHe did try it at last. A little correction of the right kind taken\n   at the right moment is invaluable. No more swearing. No more bad\n   language of any kind. A lamb-like temper ensured in about twenty\n   minutes, by a single dose of one of our spiritual indigestion\n   tabloids. In cases of all the more ordinary moral ailments, from\n   simple lying, to homicidal mania, in cases again of tendency to\n   hatred, malice, and uncharitableness; of atrophy or hypertrophy of the\n   conscience, of costiveness or diarrhoea of the sympathetic instincts,\n   &c., &c., our spiritual indigestion tabloids will afford unfailing and\n   immediate relief.\n\n   \u201c_N.B_.--A bottle or two of our Sunchild Cordial will assist the\n   operation of the tabloids.\u201d\n\nThe second and last that I can give was as follows:-\n\n   \u201cAll else is useless. If you wish to be a social success, make\n   yourself a good listener. There is no short cut to this. A would-be\n   listener must learn the rudiments of his art and go through the mill\n   like other people. If he would develop a power of suffering fools\n   gladly, he must begin by suffering them without the gladness.\n   Professor Proser, ex-straightener, certificated bore, pragmatic or\n   coruscating, with or without anecdotes, attends pupils at their own\n   houses. Terms moderate.\n\n   \u201cMrs. Proser, whose success as a professional mind-dresser is so well-\n   known that lengthened advertisement is unnecessary, prepares ladies or\n   gentlemen with appropriate remarks to be made at dinner-parties or at-\n   homes. Mrs. P. keeps herself well up to date with all the latest\n   scandals.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor, poor, straighteners!\u201d said my father to himself. \u201cAlas! that it\nshould have been my fate to ruin you--for I suppose your occupation is\ngone.\u201d\n\nTearing himself away from the College of Spiritual Athletics and its\naffiliated shop, he passed on a few doors, only to find himself looking\nin at what was neither more nor less than a chemist\u2019s shop. In the\nwindow there were advertisements which showed that the practice of\nmedicine was now legal, but my father could not stay to copy a single\none of the fantastic announcements that a hurried glance revealed to\nhim.\n\nIt was also plain here, as from the shop already more fully described,\nthat the edicts against machines had been repealed, for there were\nphysical try-your-strengths, as in the other shop there had been moral\nones, and such machines under the old law would not have been tolerated\nfor a moment.\n\nMy father made his purchases just as the last shops were closing.\nHe noticed that almost all of them were full of articles labelled\n\u201cDedication.\u201d There was Dedication gingerbread, stamped with a moulded\nrepresentation of the new temple; there were Dedication syrups,\nDedication pocket-handkerchiefs, also shewing the temple, and in one\ncorner giving a highly idealised portrait of my father himself. The\nchariot and the horses figured largely, and in the confectioners\u2019 shops\nthere were models of the newly discovered relic--made, so my father\nthought, with a little heap of cherries or strawberries, smothered in\nchocolate. Outside one tailor\u2019s shop he saw a flaring advertisement\nwhich can only be translated, \u201cTry our Dedication trousers, price ten\nshillings and sixpence.\u201d\n\nPresently he passed the new temple, but it was too dark for him to\ndo more than see that it was a vast fane, and must have cost an\nuntold amount of money. At every turn he found himself more and more\nshocked, as he realised more and more fully the mischief he had already\noccasioned, and the certainty that this was small as compared with that\nwhich would grow up hereafter.\n\n\u201cWhat,\u201d he said to me, very coherently and quietly, \u201cwas I to do? I\nhad struck a bargain with that dear fellow, though he knew not what I\nmeant, to the effect that I should try to undo the harm I had done, by\nstanding up before the people on Sunday and saying who I was. True,\nthey would not believe me. They would look at my hair and see it black,\nwhereas it should be very light. On this they would look no further,\nbut very likely tear me in pieces then and there. Suppose that the\nauthorities held a _post-mortem_ examination, and that many who knew\nme (let alone that all my measurements and marks were recorded twenty\nyears ago) identified the body as mine: would those in power admit that\nI was the Sunchild? Not they. The interests vested in my being now in\nthe palace of the sun are too great to allow of my having been torn to\npieces in Sunch\u2019ston, no matter how truly I had been torn; the whole\nthing would be hushed up, and the utmost that could come of it would be\na heresy which would in time be crushed.\n\n\u201cOn the other hand, what business have I with \u2018would be\u2019 or \u2018would not\nbe?\u2019 Should I not speak out, come what may, when I see a whole people\nbeing led astray by those who are merely exploiting them for their own\nends? Though I could do but little, ought I not to do that little? What\ndid that good fellow\u2019s instinct--so straight from heaven, so true, so\nhealthy--tell him? What did my own instinct answer? What would the\nconscience of any honourable man answer? Who can doubt?\n\n\u201cAnd yet, is there not reason? and is it not God-given as much as\ninstinct? I remember having heard an anthem in my young days, \u2018O\nwhere shall wisdom be found? the deep saith it is not in me.\u2019 As the\nsingers kept on repeating the question, I kept on saying sorrowfully\nto myself--\u2018Ah, where, where, where?\u2019 and when the triumphant answer\ncame, \u2018The fear of the Lord, that is wisdom, and to depart from evil is\nunderstanding,\u2019 I shrunk ashamed into myself for not having foreseen\nit. In later life, when I have tried to use this answer as a light by\nwhich I could walk, I found it served but to the raising of another\nquestion, \u2018What is the fear of the Lord, and what is evil in this\nparticular case?\u2019 And my easy method with spiritual dilemmas proved to\nbe but a case of _ignotum per ignotius_.\n\n\u201cIf Satan himself is at times transformed into an angel of light, are\nnot angels of light sometimes transformed into the likeness of Satan?\nIf the devil is not so black as he is painted, is God always so white?\nAnd is there not another place in which it is said, \u2018The fear of the\nLord is the beginning of wisdom,\u2019 as though it were not the last word\nupon the subject? If a man should not do evil that good may come, so\nneither should he do good that evil may come; and though it were good\nfor me to speak out, should I not do better by refraining?\n\n\u201cSuch were the lawless and uncertain thoughts that tortured me very\ncruelly, so that I did what I had not done for many a long year--I\nprayed for guidance. \u2018Shew me Thy will, O Lord,\u2019 I cried in great\ndistress, \u2018and strengthen me to do it when Thou hast shewn it me.\u2019\nBut there was no answer. Instinct tore me one way and reason another.\nWhereon I settled that I would obey the reason with which God had\nendowed me, unless the instinct He had also given me should thrash it\nout of me. I could get no further than this, that the Lord hath mercy\non whom He will have mercy, and whom He willeth He hardeneth; and again\nI prayed that I might be among those on whom He would shew His mercy.\n\n\u201cThis was the strongest internal conflict that I ever remember to have\nfelt, and it was at the end of it that I perceived the first, but\nas yet very faint, symptoms of that sickness from which I shall not\nrecover. Whether this be a token of mercy or no, my Father which is in\nheaven knows, but I know not.\u201d\n\nFrom what my father afterwards told me, I do not think the above\nreflections had engrossed him for more than three or four minutes;\nthe giddiness which had for some seconds compelled him to lay hold of\nthe first thing he could catch at in order to avoid falling, passed\naway without leaving a trace behind it, and his path seemed to become\ncomfortably clear before him. He settled it that the proper thing to\ndo would be to buy some food, start back at once while his permit\nwas still valid, help himself to the property which he had sold the\nProfessors, leaving the Erewhonians to wrestle as they best might with\nthe lot that it had pleased Heaven to send them.\n\nThis, however, was too heroic a course. He was tired, and wanted a\nnight\u2019s rest in a bed; he was hungry, and wanted a substantial meal; he\nwas curious, moreover, to see the temple dedicated to himself, and hear\nHanky\u2019s sermon; there was also this further difficulty, he should have\nto take what he had sold the Professors without returning them their\n\u00a34, 10s., for he could not do without his blanket, &c.; and even\nif he left a bag of nuggets made fast to the sucker, he must either\nplace it where it could be seen so easily that it would very likely\nget stolen, or hide it so cleverly that the Professors would never\nfind it. He therefore compromised by concluding that he would sup and\nsleep in Sunch\u2019ston, get through the morrow as he best could without\nattracting attention, deepen the stain on his face and hair, and rely\non the change so made in his appearance to prevent his being recognised\nat the dedication of the temple. He would do nothing to disillusion\nthe people--to do this would only be making bad worse. As soon as the\nservice was over, he would set out towards the preserves, and, when\nit was well dark, make for the statues. He hoped that on such a great\nday the rangers might be many of them in Sunch\u2019ston; if there were any\nabout, he must trust the moonless night and his own quick eyes and ears\nto get him through the preserves safely.\n\nThe shops were by this time closed, but the keepers of a few stalls\nwere trying by lamplight to sell the wares they had not yet got rid of.\nOne of these was a bookstall, and, running his eye over some of the\nvolumes, my father saw one entitled--\n\n   \u201cThe Sayings of the Sunchild during his stay in Erewhon, to which is\n   added a true account of his return to the palace of the sun with his\n   Erewhonian bride. This is the only version authorised by the\n   Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the Musical Banks; all other\n   versions being imperfect and inaccurate.--Bridgeford, XVIII., 150 pp.\n   8vo. Price 3s.\n\nThe reader will understand that I am giving the prices as nearly as I can\nin their English equivalents. Another title was--\n\n   \u201cThe Sacrament of Divorce: an Occasional Sermon preached by Dr.\n   Gurgoyle, President of the Musical Banks for the Province of\n   Sunch\u2019ston. 8vo, 16 pp. 6d.\n\nOther titles ran--\n\n   \u201cCounsels of Imperfection.\u201d 8vo, 20 pp. 6d.\n\n   \u201cHygiene; or, How to Diagnose your Doctor. 8vo, 10 pp. 3d.\n\n   \u201cThe Physics of Vicarious Existence,\u201d by Dr. Gurgoyle, President of\n   the Musical Banks for the Province of Sunch\u2019ston. 8vo, 20 pp. 6d.\n\nThere were many other books whose titles would probably have attracted\nmy father as much as those that I have given, but he was too tired and\nhungry to look at more. Finding that he could buy all the foregoing for\n4s. 9d., he bought them and stuffed them into the valise that he had\njust bought. His purchases in all had now amounted to a little over \u00a31,\n10s. (silver), leaving him about \u00a33 (silver), including the money for\nwhich he had sold the quails, to carry him on till Sunday afternoon. He\nintended to spend say \u00a32 (silver), and keep the rest of the money in\norder to give it to the British Museum.\n\nHe now began to search for an inn, and walked about the less fashionable\nparts of the town till he found an unpretending tavern, which he thought\nwould suit him. Here, on importunity, he was given a servant\u2019s room at\nthe top of the house, all others being engaged by visitors who had come\nfor the dedication. He ordered a meal, of which he stood in great need,\nand having eaten it, he retired early for the night. But he smoked a\npipe surreptitiously up the chimney before he got into bed.\n\nMeanwhile other things were happening, of which, happily for his repose,\nhe was still ignorant, and which he did not learn till a few days later.\nNot to depart from chronological order I will deal with them in my next\nchapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII: YRAM, NOW MAYORESS, GIVES A DINNER-PARTY, IN THE COURSE OF\nWHICH SHE IS DISQUIETED BY WHAT SHE LEARNS FROM PROFESSOR HANKY: SHE\nSENDS FOR HER SON GEORGE AND QUESTIONS HIM\n\n\nThe Professors, returning to their hotel early on the Friday morning,\nfound a note from the Mayoress urging them to be her guests during the\nremainder of their visit, and to meet other friends at dinner on this\nsame evening. They accepted, and then went to bed; for they had passed\nthe night under the tree in which they had hidden their purchase, and, as\nmay be imagined, had slept but little. They rested all day, and\ntransferred themselves and their belongings to the Mayor\u2019s house in time\nto dress for dinner.\n\nWhen they came down into the drawing-room they found a brilliant company\nassembled, chiefly Musical-Bankical like themselves. There was Dr.\nDownie, Professor of Logomachy, and perhaps the most subtle dialectician\nin Erewhon. He could say nothing in more words than any man of his\ngeneration. His text-book on the \u201cArt of Obscuring Issues\u201d had passed\nthrough ten or twelve editions, and was in the hands of all aspirants for\nacademic distinction. He had earned a high reputation for sobriety of\njudgement by resolutely refusing to have definite views on any subject;\nso safe a man was he considered, that while still quite young he had been\nappointed to the lucrative post of Thinker in Ordinary to the Royal\nFamily. There was Mr. Principal Crank, with his sister Mrs. Quack;\nProfessors Gabb and Bawl, with their wives and two or three erudite\ndaughters.\n\nOld Mrs. Humdrum (of whom more anon) was there of course, with her\nvenerable white hair and rich black satin dress, looking the very ideal\nof all that a stately old dowager ought to be. In society she was\ncommonly known as Ydgrun, so perfectly did she correspond with the\nconception of this strange goddess formed by the Erewhonians. She was\none of those who had visited my father when he was in prison twenty years\nearlier. When he told me that she was now called Ydgrun, he said, \u201cI am\nsure that the Erinyes were only Mrs. Humdrums, and that they were\ndelightful people when you came to know them. I do not believe they did\nthe awful things we say they did. I think, but am not quite sure, that\nthey let Orestes off; but even though they had not pardoned him, I doubt\nwhether they would have done anything more dreadful to him than issue a\n_mot d\u2019ordre_ that he was not to be asked to any more afternoon teas.\nThis, however, would be down-right torture to some people. At any rate,\u201d\nhe continued, \u201cbe it the Erinyes, or Mrs. Grundy, or Ydgrun, in all times\nand places it is woman who decides whether society is to condone an\noffence or no.\u201d\n\nAmong the most attractive ladies present was one for whose Erewhonian\nname I can find no English equivalent, and whom I must therefore call\nMiss La Frime. She was Lady President of the principal establishment for\nthe higher education of young ladies, and so celebrated was she, that\npupils flocked to her from all parts of the surrounding country. Her\nprimer (written for the Erewhonian Arts and Science Series) on the Art of\nMan-killing, was the most complete thing of the kind that had yet been\ndone; but ill-natured people had been heard to say that she had killed\nall her own admirers so effectually that not one of them had ever lived\nto marry her. According to Erewhonian custom the successful marriages of\nthe pupils are inscribed yearly on the oak paneling of the college\nrefectory, and a reprint from these in pamphlet form accompanies all the\nprospectuses that are sent out to parents. It was alleged that no other\nladies\u2019 seminary in Erewhon could show such a brilliant record during all\nthe years of Miss La Frime\u2019s presidency. Many other guests of less note\nwere there, but the lions of the evening were the two Professors whom we\nhave already met with, and more particularly Hanky, who took the Mayoress\nin to dinner. Panky, of course, wore his clothes reversed, as did\nPrincipal Crank and Professor Gabb; the others were dressed English\nfashion.\n\nEverything hung upon the hostess, for the host was little more than a\nstill handsome figure-head. He had been remarkable for his good looks as\na young man, and Strong is the nearest approach I can get to a\ntranslation of his Erewhonian name. His face inspired confidence at\nonce, but he was a man of few words, and had little of that grace which\nin his wife set every one instantly at his or her ease. He knew that all\nwould go well so long as he left everything to her, and kept himself as\nfar as might be in the background.\n\nBefore dinner was announced there was the usual buzz of conversation,\nchiefly occupied with salutations, good wishes for Sunday\u2019s weather, and\nadmiration for the extreme beauty of the Mayoress\u2019s three daughters, the\ntwo elder of whom were already out; while the third, though only\nthirteen, might have passed for a year or two older. Their mother was so\nmuch engrossed with receiving her guests that it was not till they were\nall at table that she was able to ask Hanky what he thought of the\nstatues, which she had heard that he and Professor Panky had been to see.\nShe was told how much interested he had been with them, and how unable he\nhad been to form any theory as to their date or object. He then added,\nappealing to Panky, who was on the Mayoress\u2019s left hand, \u201cbut we had\nrather a strange adventure on our way down, had we not, Panky? We got\nlost, and were benighted in the forest. Happily we fell in with one of\nthe rangers who had lit a fire.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo I understand, then,\u201d said Yram, as I suppose we may as well call her,\n\u201cthat you were out all last night? How tired you must be! But I hope\nyou had enough provisions with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed we were out all night. We staid by the ranger\u2019s fire till\nmidnight, and then tried to find our way down, but we gave it up soon\nafter we had got out of the forest, and then waited under a large\nchestnut tree till four or five this morning. As for food, we had not so\nmuch as a mouthful from about three in the afternoon till we got to our\ninn early this morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, you poor, poor people! how tired you must be.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; we made a good breakfast as soon as we got in, and then went to bed,\nwhere we staid till it was time for us to come to your house.\u201d\n\nHere Panky gave his friend a significant look, as much as to say that he\nhad said enough.\n\nThis set Hanky on at once. \u201cStrange to say, the ranger was wearing the\nold Erewhonian dress. It did me good to see it again after all these\nyears. It seems your son lets his men wear what few of the old clothes\nthey may still have, so long as they keep well away from the town. But\nfancy how carefully these poor fellows husband them; why, it must be\nseventeen years since the dress was forbidden!\u201d\n\nWe all of us have skeletons, large or small, in some cupboard of our\nlives, but a well regulated skeleton that will stay in its cupboard\nquietly does not much matter. There are skeletons, however, which can\nnever be quite trusted not to open the cupboard door at some awkward\nmoment, go down stairs, ring the hall-door bell, with grinning face\nannounce themselves as the skeleton, and ask whether the master or\nmistress is at home. This kind of skeleton, though no bigger than a\nrabbit, will sometimes loom large as that of a dinotherium. My father\nwas Yram\u2019s skeleton. True, he was a mere skeleton of a skeleton, for the\nchances were thousands to one that he and my mother had perished long\nyears ago; and even though he rang at the bell, there was no harm that he\neither could or would now do to her or hers; still, so long as she did\nnot certainly know that he was dead, or otherwise precluded from\nreturning, she could not be sure that he would not one day come back by\nthe way that he would alone know, and she had rather he should not do so.\n\nHence, on hearing from Professor Hanky that a man had been seen between\nthe statues and Sunch\u2019ston wearing the old Erewhonian dress, she was\ndisquieted and perplexed. The excuse he had evidently made to the\nProfessors aggravated her uneasiness, for it was an obvious attempt to\nescape from an unexpected difficulty. There could be no truth in it. Her\nson would as soon think of wearing the old dress himself as of letting\nhis men do so; and as for having old clothes still to wear out after\nseventeen years, no one but a Bridgeford Professor would accept this. She\nsaw, therefore, that she must keep her wits about her, and lead her\nguests on to tell her as much as they could be induced to do.\n\n\u201cMy son,\u201d she said innocently, \u201cis always considerate to his men, and\nthat is why they are so devoted to him. I wonder which of them it was?\nIn what part of the preserves did you fall in with him?\u201d\n\nHanky described the place, and gave the best idea he could of my father\u2019s\nappearance.\n\n\u201cOf course he was swarthy like the rest of us?\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw nothing remarkable about him, except that his eyes were blue and\nhis eyelashes nearly white, which, as you know, is rare in Erewhon.\nIndeed, I do not remember ever before to have seen a man with dark hair\nand complexion but light eyelashes. Nature is always doing something\nunusual.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no doubt,\u201d said Yram, \u201cthat he was the man they call Blacksheep,\nbut I never noticed this peculiarity in him. If he was Blacksheep, I am\nafraid you must have found him none too civil; he is a rough diamond, and\nyou would hardly be able to understand his uncouth Sunch\u2019ston dialect.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, he was most kind and thoughtful--even so far as to take\nour permit from us, and thus save us the trouble of giving it up at your\nson\u2019s office. As for his dialect, his grammar was often at fault, but we\ncould quite understand him.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear he behaved better than I could have expected. Did he\nsay in what part of the preserves he had been?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe had been catching quails between the place where we saw him and the\nstatues; he was to deliver three dozen to your son this afternoon for the\nMayor\u2019s banquet on Sunday.\u201d\n\nThis was worse and worse. She had urged her son to provide her with a\nsupply of quails for Sunday\u2019s banquet, but he had begged her not to\ninsist on having them. There was no close time for them in Erewhon, but\nhe set his face against their being seen at table in spring and summer.\nDuring the winter, when any great occasion arose, he had allowed a few\nbrace to be provided.\n\n\u201cI asked my son to let me have some,\u201d said Yram, who was now on full\nscent. She laughed genially as she added, \u201cCan you throw any light upon\nthe question whether I am likely to get my three dozen? I have had no\nnews as yet.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe man had taken a good many; we saw them but did not count them. He\nstarted about midnight for the ranger\u2019s shelter, where he said he should\nsleep till daybreak, so as to make up his full tale betimes.\u201d\n\nYram had heard her son complain that there were no shelters on the\npreserves, and state his intention of having some built before the\nwinter. Here too, then, the man\u2019s story must be false. She changed the\nconversation for the moment, but quietly told a servant to send high and\nlow in search of her son, and if he could be found, to bid him come to\nher at once. She then returned to her previous subject.\n\n\u201cAnd did not this heartless wretch, knowing how hungry you must both be,\nlet you have a quail or two as an act of pardonable charity?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear Mayoress, how can you ask such a question? We knew you would\nwant all you could get; moreover, our permit threatened us with all sorts\nof horrors if we so much as ate a single quail. I assure you we never\neven allowed a thought of eating one of them to cross our minds.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Yram to herself, \u201cthey gorged upon them.\u201d What could she\nthink? A man who wore the old dress, and therefore who had almost\ncertainly been in Erewhon, but had been many years away from it; who\nspoke the language well, but whose grammar was defective--hence, again,\none who had spent some time in Erewhon; who knew nothing of the\nafforesting law now long since enacted, for how else would he have dared\nto light a fire and be seen with quails in his possession; an adroit\nliar, who on gleaning information from the Professors had hazarded an\nexcuse for immediately retracing his steps; a man, too, with blue eyes\nand light eyelashes. What did it matter about his hair being dark and\nhis complexion swarthy--Higgs was far too clever to attempt a second\nvisit to Erewhon without dyeing his hair and staining his face and hands.\nAnd he had got their permit out of the Professors before he left them;\nclearly, then, he meant coming back, and coming back at once before the\npermit had expired. How could she doubt? My father, she felt sure, must\nby this time be in Sunch\u2019ston. He would go back to change his clothes,\nwhich would not be very far down on the other side the pass, for he would\nnot put on his old Erewhonian dress till he was on the point of entering\nErewhon; and he would hide his English dress rather than throw it away,\nfor he would want it when he went back again. It would be quite\npossible, then, for him to get through the forest before the permit was\nvoid, and he would be sure to go on to Sunch\u2019ston for the night.\n\nShe chatted unconcernedly, now with one guest now with another, while\nthey in their turn chatted unconcernedly with one another.\n\nMiss La Frime to Mrs. Humdrum: \u201cYou know how he got his professorship?\nNo? I thought every one knew that. The question the candidates had to\nanswer was, whether it was wiser during a long stay at a hotel to tip the\nservants pretty early, or to wait till the stay was ended. All the other\ncandidates took one side or the other, and argued their case in full.\nHanky sent in three lines to the effect that the proper thing to do would\nbe to promise at the beginning, and go away without giving. The King,\nwith whom the appointment rested, was so much pleased with this answer\nthat he gave Hanky the professorship without so much as looking . . . \u201d\n\nProfessor Gabb to Mrs. Humdrum: \u201cOh no, I can assure you there is no\ntruth in it. What happened was this. There was the usual crowd, and the\npeople cheered Professor after Professor, as he stood before them in the\ngreat Bridgeford theatre and satisfied them that a lump of butter which\nhad been put into his mouth would not melt in it. When Hanky\u2019s turn came\nhe was taken suddenly unwell, and had to leave the theatre, on which\nthere was a report in the house that the butter had melted; this was at\nonce stopped by the return of the Professor. Another piece of butter was\nput into his mouth, and on being taken out after the usual time, was\nfound to shew no signs of having . . . \u201d\n\nMiss Bawl to Mr. Principal Crank: . . . \u201cThe Manager was so tall, you\nknow, and then there was that little mite of an assistant manager--it\n_was_ so funny. For the assistant manager\u2019s voice was ever so much\nlouder than the . . . \u201d\n\nMrs. Bawl to Professor Gabb: . . . \u201cLive for art! If I had to choose\nwhether I would lose either art or science, I have not the smallest\nhesitation in saying that I would lose . . . \u201d\n\nThe Mayor and Dr. Downie: . . . \u201cThat you are to be canonised at the\nclose of the year along with Professors Hanky and Panky?\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe it is his Majesty\u2019s intention that the Professors and myself\nare to head the list of the Sunchild\u2019s Saints, but we have all of us got\nto . . . \u201d\n\nAnd so on, and so on, buzz, buzz, buzz, over the whole table. Presently\nYram turned to Hanky and said--\n\n\u201cBy the way, Professor, you must have found it very cold up at the\nstatues, did you not? But I suppose the snow is all gone by this time?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it was cold, and though the winter\u2019s snow is melted, there had been\na recent fall. Strange to say, we saw fresh footprints in it, as of some\none who had come up from the other side. But thereon hangs a tale, about\nwhich I believe I should say nothing.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen say nothing, my dear Professor,\u201d said Yram with a frank smile.\n\u201cAbove all,\u201d she added quietly and gravely, \u201csay nothing to the Mayor,\nnor to my son, till after Sunday. Even a whisper of some one coming over\nfrom the other side disquiets them, and they have enough on hand for the\nmoment.\u201d\n\nPanky, who had been growing more and more restive at his friend\u2019s\noutspokenness, but who had encouraged it more than once by vainly trying\nto check it, was relieved at hearing his hostess do for him what he could\nnot do for himself. As for Yram, she had got enough out of the Professor\nto be now fully dissatisfied, and mentally informed them that they might\nleave the witness-box. During the rest of dinner she let the subject of\ntheir adventure severely alone.\n\nIt seemed to her as though dinner was never going to end; but in the\ncourse of time it did so, and presently the ladies withdrew. As they\nwere entering the drawing-room a servant told her that her son had been\nfound more easily than was expected, and was now in his own room\ndressing.\n\n\u201cTell him,\u201d she said, \u201cto stay there till I come, which I will do\ndirectly.\u201d\n\nShe remained for a few minutes with her guests, and then, excusing\nherself quietly to Mrs. Humdrum, she stepped out and hastened to her\nson\u2019s room. She told him that Professors Hanky and Panky were staying in\nthe house, and that during dinner they had told her something he ought to\nknow, but which there was no time to tell him until her guests were gone.\n\u201cI had rather,\u201d she said, \u201ctell you about it before you see the\nProfessors, for if you see them the whole thing will be reopened, and you\nare sure to let them see how much more there is in it than they suspect.\nI want everything hushed up for the moment; do not, therefore, join us.\nHave dinner sent to you in your father\u2019s study. I will come to you about\nmidnight.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my dear mother,\u201d said George, \u201cI have seen Panky already. I walked\ndown with him a good long way this afternoon.\u201d\n\nYram had not expected this, but she kept her countenance. \u201cHow did you\nknow,\u201d said she, \u201cthat he was Professor Panky? Did he tell you so?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly he did. He showed me his permit, which was made out in favour\nof Professors Hanky and Panky, or either of them. He said Hanky had been\nunable to come with him, and that he was himself Professor Panky.\u201d\n\nYram again smiled very sweetly. \u201cThen, my dear boy,\u201d she said, \u201cI am all\nthe more anxious that you should not see him now. See nobody but the\nservants and your brothers, and wait till I can enlighten you. I must\nnot stay another moment; but tell me this much, have you seen any signs\nof poachers lately?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; there were three last night.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what part of the preserves?\u201d\n\nHer son described the place.\n\n\u201cYou are sure they had been killing quails?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, and eating them--two on one side of a fire they had lit, and one on\nthe other; this last man had done all the plucking.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d\n\nShe kissed him with more than even her usual tenderness, and returned to\nthe drawing-room.\n\nDuring the rest of the evening she was engaged in earnest conversation\nwith Mrs. Humdrum, leaving her other guests to her daughters and to\nthemselves. Mrs. Humdrum had been her closest friend for many years, and\ncarried more weight than any one else in Sunch\u2019ston, except, perhaps,\nYram herself. \u201cTell him everything,\u201d she said to Yram at the close of\ntheir conversation; \u201cwe all dote upon him; trust him frankly, as you\ntrusted your husband before you let him marry you. No lies, no reserve,\nno tears, and all will come right. As for me, command me,\u201d and the good\nold lady rose to take her leave with as kind a look on her face as ever\nirradiated saint or angel. \u201cI go early,\u201d she added, \u201cfor the others will\ngo when they see me do so, and the sooner you are alone the better.\u201d\n\nBy half an hour before midnight her guests had gone. Hanky and Panky\nwere given to understand that they must still be tired, and had better go\nto bed. So was the Mayor; so were her sons and daughters, except of\ncourse George, who was waiting for her with some anxiety, for he had seen\nthat she had something serious to tell him. Then she went down into the\nstudy. Her son embraced her as she entered, and moved an easy chair for\nher, but she would not have it.\n\n\u201cNo; I will have an upright one.\u201d Then, sitting composedly down on the\none her son placed for her, she said--\n\n\u201cAnd now to business. But let me first tell you that the Mayor was told,\ntwenty years ago, all the more important part of what you will now hear.\nHe does not yet know what has happened within the last few hours, but\neither you or I will tell him to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX: INTERVIEW BETWEEN YRAM AND HER SON\n\n\n\u201cWhat did you think of Panky?\u201d\n\n\u201cI could not make him out. If he had not been a Bridgeford Professor I\nmight have liked him; but you know how we all of us distrust those\npeople.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere did you meet him?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout two hours lower down than the statues.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt what o\u2019clock?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt might be between two and half-past.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose he did not say that at that hour he was in bed at his hotel in\nSunch\u2019ston. Hardly! Tell me what passed between you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe had his permit open before we were within speaking distance. I think\nhe feared I should attack him without making sure whether he was a\nforeign devil or no. I have told you he said he was Professor Panky.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose he had a dark complexion and black hair like the rest of us?\u201d\n\n\u201cDark complexion and hair purplish rather than black. I was surprised to\nsee that his eyelashes were as light as my own, and his eyes were blue\nlike mine--but you will have noticed this at dinner.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, my dear, I did not, and I think I should have done so if it had been\nthere to notice.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, but it was so indeed.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps. Was there anything strange about his way of talking?\u201d\n\n\u201cA little about his grammar, but these Bridgeford Professors have often\nrisen from the ranks. His pronunciation was nearly like yours and mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cWas his manner friendly?\u201d\n\n\u201cVery; more so than I could understand at first. I had not, however,\nbeen with him long before I saw tears in his eyes, and when I asked him\nwhether he was in distress, he said I reminded him of a son whom he had\nlost and had found after many years, only to lose him almost immediately\nfor ever. Hence his cordiality towards me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said Yram half hysterically to herself, \u201che knew who you were.\nNow, how, I wonder, did he find that out?\u201d All vestige of doubt as to\nwho the man might be had now left her.\n\n\u201cCertainly he knew who I was. He spoke about you more than once, and\nwished us every kind of prosperity, baring his head reverently as he\nspoke.\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor fellow! Did he say anything about Higgs?\u201d\n\n\u201cA good deal, and I was surprised to find he thought about it all much as\nwe do. But when I said that if I could go down into the hell of which\nHiggs used to talk to you while he was in prison, I should expect to find\nhim in its hottest fires, he did not like it.\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly not, my dear. Did you tell him how the other boys, when you\nwere at school, used sometimes to say you were son to this man Higgs, and\nthat the people of Sunch\u2019ston used to say so also, till the Mayor\ntrounced two or three people so roundly that they held their tongues for\nthe future?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot all that, but I said that silly people had believed me to be the\nSunchild\u2019s son, and what a disgrace I should hold it to be son to such an\nimpostor.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat did he say to this?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe asked whether I should feel the disgrace less if Higgs were to undo\nthe mischief he had caused by coming back and shewing himself to the\npeople for what he was. But he said it would be no use for him to do so,\ninasmuch as people would kill him but would not believe him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you said?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet him come back, speak out, and chance what might befall him. In that\ncase, I should honour him, father or no father.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe asked if that would be a bargain; and when I said it would, he\ngrasped me warmly by the hand on Higgs\u2019s behalf--though what it could\nmatter to him passes my comprehension.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he saw that even though Higgs were to shew himself and say who he\nwas, it would mean death to himself and no good to any one else?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen he can have meant nothing by shaking hands with you. It was an\nidle jest. And now for your poachers. You do not know who they were? I\nwill tell you. The two who sat on the one side the fire were Professors\nHanky and Panky from the City of the People who are above Suspicion.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said George vehemently. \u201cImpossible.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my dear boy, quite possible, and whether possible or impossible,\nassuredly true.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the third man?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe third man was dressed in the old costume. He was in possession of\nseveral brace of birds. The Professors vowed they had not eaten any--\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, but they had,\u201d blurted out George.\n\n\u201cOf course they had, my dear; and a good thing too. Let us return to the\nman in the old costume.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is puzzling. Who did he say he was?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe said he was one of your men; that you had instructed him to provide\nyou with three dozen quails for Sunday; and that you let your men wear\nthe old costume if they had any of it left, provided--\u201d\n\nThis was too much for George; he started to his feet. \u201cWhat, my dearest\nmother, does all this mean? You have been playing with me all through.\nWhat is coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cA very little more, and you shall hear. This man staid with the\nProfessors till nearly midnight, and then left them on the plea that he\nwould finish the night in the Ranger\u2019s shelter--\u201d\n\n\u201cRanger\u2019s shelter, indeed! Why--\u201d\n\n\u201cHush, my darling boy, be patient with me. He said he must be up\nbetimes, to run down the rest of the quails you had ordered him to bring\nyou. But before leaving the Professors he beguiled them into giving him\nup their permit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said George, striding about the room with his face flushed and\nhis eyes flashing, \u201che was the man with whom I walked down this\nafternoon.\u201d\n\n\u201cExactly so.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he must have changed his dress?\u201d\n\n\u201cExactly so.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut where and how?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt some place not very far down on the other side the range, where he\nhad hidden his old clothes.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd who, in the name of all that we hold most sacred, do you take him to\nhave been--for I see you know more than you have yet told me?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son, he was Higgs the Sunchild, father to that boy whom I love next\nto my husband more dearly than any one in the whole world.\u201d\n\nShe folded her arms about him for a second, without kissing him, and left\nhim. \u201cAnd now,\u201d she said, the moment she had closed the door--\u201cand now I\nmay cry.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\nShe did not cry for long, and having removed all trace of tears as far as\nmight be, she returned to her son outwardly composed and cheerful. \u201cShall\nI say more now,\u201d she said, seeing how grave he looked, \u201cor shall I leave\nyou, and talk further with you to-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cNow--now--now!\u201d\n\n\u201cGood! A little before Higgs came here, the Mayor, as he now is, poor,\nhandsome, generous to a fault so far as he had the wherewithal, was\nadored by all the women of his own rank in Sunch\u2019ston. Report said that\nhe had adored many of them in return, but after having known me for a\nvery few days, he asked me to marry him, protesting that he was a changed\nman. I liked him, as every one else did, but I was not in love with him,\nand said so; he said he would give me as much time as I chose, if I would\nnot point-blank refuse him; and so the matter was left.\n\n\u201cWithin a week or so Higgs was brought to the prison, and he had not been\nthere long before I found, or thought I found, that I liked him better\nthan I liked Strong. I was a fool--but there! As for Higgs, he liked,\nbut did not love me. If I had let him alone he would have done the like\nby me; and let each other alone we did, till the day before he was taken\ndown to the capital. On that day, whether through his fault or mine I\nknow not--we neither of us meant it--it was as though Nature, my dear,\nwas determined that you should not slip through her fingers--well, on\nthat day we took it into our heads that we were broken-hearted lovers--the\nrest followed. And how, my dearest boy, as I look upon you, can I feign\nrepentance?\n\n\u201cMy husband, who never saw Higgs, and knew nothing about him except the\ntoo little that I told him, pressed his suit, and about a month after\nHiggs had gone, having recovered my passing infatuation for him, I took\nkindly to the Mayor and accepted him, without telling him what I ought to\nhave told him--but the words stuck in my throat. I had not been engaged\nto him many days before I found that there was something which I should\nnot be able to hide much longer.\n\n\u201cYou know, my dear, that my mother had been long dead, and I never had a\nsister or any near kinswoman. At my wits\u2019 end who I should consult,\ninstinct drew me to Mrs. Humdrum, then a woman of about five-and-forty.\nShe was a grand lady, while I was about the rank of one of my own\nhousemaids. I had no claim on her; I went to her as a lost dog looks\ninto the faces of people on a road, and singles out the one who will most\nsurely help him. I had had a good look at her once as she was putting on\nher gloves, and I liked the way she did it. I marvel at my own boldness.\nAt any rate, I asked to see her, and told her my story exactly as I have\nnow told it to you.\n\n\u201c\u2018You have no mother?\u2019 she said, when she had heard all.\n\n\u201c\u2018No.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Then, my dear, I will mother you myself. Higgs is out of the question,\nso Strong must marry you at once. We will tell him everything, and I, on\nyour behalf, will insist upon it that the engagement is at an end. I\nhear good reports of him, and if we are fair towards him he will be\ngenerous towards us. Besides, I believe he is so much in love with you\nthat he would sell his soul to get you. Send him to me. I can deal with\nhim better than you can.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what,\u201d said George, \u201cdid my father, as I shall always call him, say\nto all this?\n\n\u201cTruth bred chivalry in him at once. \u2018I will marry her,\u2019 he said, with\nhardly a moment\u2019s hesitation, \u2018but it will be better that I should not be\nput on any lower footing than Higgs was. I ought not to be denied\nanything that has been allowed to him. If I am trusted, I can trust\nmyself to trust and think no evil either of Higgs or her. They were\npestered beyond endurance, as I have been ere now. If I am held at arm\u2019s\nlength till I am fast bound, I shall marry Yram just the same, but I\ndoubt whether she and I shall ever be quite happy.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Come to my house this evening,\u2019 said Mrs. Humdrum, \u2018and you will find\nYram there.\u2019 He came, he found me, and within a fortnight we were man\nand wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow much does not all this explain,\u201d said George, smiling but very\ngravely. \u201cAnd you are going to ask me to forgive you for robbing me of\nsuch a father.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has forgiven me, my dear, for robbing him of such a son. He never\nreproached me. From that day to this he has never given me a harsh word\nor even syllable. When you were born he took to you at once, as, indeed,\nwho could help doing? for you were the sweetest child both in looks and\ntemper that it is possible to conceive. Your having light hair and eyes\nmade things more difficult; for this, and your being born, almost to the\nday, nine months after Higgs had left us, made people talk--but your\nfather kept their tongues within bounds. They talk still, but they liked\nwhat little they saw of Higgs, they like the Mayor and me, and they like\nyou the best of all; so they please themselves by having the thing both\nways. Though, therefore, you are son to the Mayor, Higgs cast some\nmiraculous spell upon me before he left, whereby my son should be in some\nmeasure his as well as the Mayor\u2019s. It was this miraculous spell that\ncaused you to be born two months too soon, and we called you by Higgs\u2019s\nfirst name as though to show that we took that view of the matter\nourselves.\n\n\u201cMrs. Humdrum, however, was very positive that there was no spell at all.\nShe had repeatedly heard her father say that the Mayor\u2019s grandfather was\nlight-haired and blue-eyed, and that every third generation in that\nfamily a light-haired son was born. The people believe this too. Nobody\ndisbelieves Mrs. Humdrum, but they like the miracle best, so that is how\nit has been settled.\n\n\u201cI never knew whether Mrs. Humdrum told her husband, but I think she\nmust; for a place was found almost immediately for my husband in Mr.\nHumdrum\u2019s business. He made himself useful; after a few years he was\ntaken into partnership, and on Mr. Humdrum\u2019s death became head of the\nfirm. Between ourselves, he says laughingly that all his success in life\nwas due to Higgs and me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall give Mrs. Humdrum a double dose of kissing,\u201d said George\nthoughtfully, \u201cnext time I see her.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, do, do; she will so like it. And now, my darling boy, tell your\npoor mother whether or no you can forgive her.\u201d\n\nHe clasped her in his arms, and kissed her again and again, but for a\ntime he could find no utterance. Presently he smiled, and said, \u201cOf\ncourse I do, but it is you who should forgive me, for was it not all my\nfault?\u201d\n\nWhen Yram, too, had become more calm, she said, \u201cIt is late, and we have\nno time to lose. Higgs\u2019s coming at this time is mere accident; if he had\nhad news from Erewhon he would have known much that he did not know. I\ncannot guess why he has come--probably through mere curiosity, but he\nwill hear or have heard--yes, you and he talked about it--of the temple;\nbeing here, he will want to see the dedication. From what you have told\nme I feel sure that he will not make a fool of himself by saying who he\nis, but in spite of his disguise he may be recognised. I do not doubt\nthat he is now in Sunch\u2019ston; therefore, to-morrow morning scour the town\nto find him. Tell him he is discovered, tell him you know from me that\nhe is your father, and that I wish to see him with all good-will towards\nhim. He will come. We will then talk to him, and show him that he must\ngo back at once. You can escort him to the statues; after passing them\nhe will be safe. He will give you no trouble, but if he does, arrest him\non a charge of poaching, and take him to the gaol, where we must do the\nbest we can with him--but he will give you none. We need say nothing to\nthe Professors. No one but ourselves will know of his having been here.\u201d\n\nOn this she again embraced her son and left him. If two photographs\ncould have been taken of her, one as she opened the door and looked\nfondly back on George, and the other as she closed it behind her, the\nsecond portrait would have seemed taken ten years later than the first.\n\nAs for George, he went gravely but not unhappily to his own room. \u201cSo\nthat ready, plausible fellow,\u201d he muttered to himself, \u201cwas my own\nfather. At any rate, I am not son to a fool--and he liked me.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X: MY FATHER, FEARING RECOGNITION AT SUNCH\u2019STON, BETAKES HIMSELF\nTO THE NEIGHBOURING TOWN OF FAIRMEAD\n\n\nI will now return to my father. Whether from fatigue or over-excitement,\nhe slept only by fits and starts, and when awake he could not rid himself\nof the idea that, in spite of his disguise, he might be recognised,\neither at his inn or in the town, by some one of the many who had seen\nhim when he was in prison. In this case there was no knowing what might\nhappen, but at best, discovery would probably prevent his seeing the\ntemple dedicated to himself, and hearing Professor Hanky\u2019s sermon, which\nhe was particularly anxious to do.\n\nSo strongly did he feel the real or fancied danger he should incur by\nspending Saturday in Sunch\u2019ston, that he rose as soon as he heard any one\nstirring, and having paid his bill, walked quietly out of the house,\nwithout saying where he was going.\n\nThere was a town about ten miles off, not so important as Sunch\u2019ston, but\nhaving some 10,000 inhabitants; he resolved to find accommodation there\nfor the day and night, and to walk over to Sunch\u2019ston in time for the\ndedication ceremony, which he had found on inquiry, would begin at eleven\no\u2019clock.\n\nThe country between Sunch\u2019ston and Fairmead, as the town just referred to\nwas named, was still mountainous, and being well wooded as well as well\nwatered, abounded in views of singular beauty; but I have no time to\ndwell on the enthusiasm with which my father described them to me. The\nroad took him at right angles to the main road down the valley from\nSunch\u2019ston to the capital, and this was one reason why he had chosen\nFairmead rather than Clearwater, which was the next town lower down on\nthe main road. He did not, indeed, anticipate that any one would want to\nfind him, but whoever might so want would be more likely to go straight\ndown the valley than to turn aside towards Fairmead.\n\nOn reaching this place, he found it pretty full of people, for Saturday\nwas market-day. There was a considerable open space in the middle of the\ntown, with an arcade running round three sides of it, while the fourth\nwas completely taken up by the venerable Musical Bank of the city, a\nbuilding which had weathered the storms of more than five centuries. On\nthe outside of the wall, abutting on the market-place, were three wooden\n_sedilia_, in which the Mayor and two coadjutors sate weekly on market-\ndays to give advice, redress grievances, and, if necessary (which it very\nseldom was) to administer correction.\n\nMy father was much interested in watching the proceedings in a case which\nhe found on inquiry to be not infrequent. A man was complaining to the\nMayor that his daughter, a lovely child of eight years old, had none of\nthe faults common to children of her age, and, in fact, seemed absolutely\ndeficient in immoral sense. She never told lies, had never stolen so\nmuch as a lollipop, never showed any recalcitrancy about saying her\nprayers, and by her incessant obedience had filled her poor father and\nmother with the gravest anxiety as regards her future well-being. He\nfeared it would be necessary to send her to a deformatory.\n\n\u201cI have generally found,\u201d said the Mayor, gravely but kindly, \u201cthat the\nfault in these distressing cases lies rather with the parent than the\nchildren. Does the child never break anything by accident?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the father.\n\n\u201cAnd you have duly punished her for it?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! sir, I fear I only told her she was a naughty girl, and must not\ndo it again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen how can you expect your child to learn those petty arts of\ndeception without which she must fall an easy prey to any one who wishes\nto deceive her? How can she detect lying in other people unless she has\nhad some experience of it in her own practice? How, again, can she learn\nwhen it will be well for her to lie, and when to refrain from doing so,\nunless she has made many a mistake on a small scale while at an age when\nmistakes do not greatly matter? The Sunchild (and here he reverently\nraised his hat), as you may read in chapter thirty-one of his Sayings,\nhas left us a touching tale of a little boy, who, having cut down an\napple tree in his father\u2019s garden, lamented his inability to tell a lie.\nSome commentators, indeed, have held that the evidence was so strongly\nagainst the boy that no lie would have been of any use to him, and that\nhis perception of this fact was all that he intended to convey; but the\nbest authorities take his simple words, \u2018I cannot tell a lie,\u2019 in their\nmost natural sense, as being his expression of regret at the way in which\nhis education had been neglected. If that case had come before me, I\nshould have punished the boy\u2019s father, unless he could show that the best\nauthorities are mistaken (as indeed they too generally are), and that\nunder more favourable circumstances the boy would have been able to lie,\nand would have lied accordingly.\n\n\u201cThere is no occasion for you to send your child to a deformatory. I am\nalways averse to extreme measures when I can avoid them. Moreover, in a\ndeformatory she would be almost certain to fall in with characters as\nintractable as her own. Take her home and whip her next time she so much\nas pulls about the salt. If you will do this whenever you get a chance,\nI have every hope that you will have no occasion to come to me again.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, sir,\u201d said the father, \u201cI will do my best, but the child is\nso instinctively truthful that I am afraid whipping will be of little\nuse.\u201d\n\nThere were other cases, none of them serious, which in the old days would\nhave been treated by a straightener. My father had already surmised that\nthe straightener had become extinct as a class, having been superseded by\nthe Managers and Cashiers of the Musical Banks, but this became more\napparent as he listened to the cases that next came on. These were dealt\nwith quite reasonably, except that the magistrate always ordered an\nemetic and a strong purge in addition to the rest of his sentence, as\nholding that all diseases of the moral sense spring from impurities\nwithin the body, which must be cleansed before there could be any hope of\nspiritual improvement. If any devils were found in what passed from the\nprisoner\u2019s body, he was to be brought up again; for in this case the rest\nof the sentence might very possibly be remitted.\n\nWhen the Mayor and his coadjutors had done sitting, my father strolled\nround the Musical Bank and entered it by the main entrance, which was on\nthe top of a flight of steps that went down on to the principal street of\nthe town. How strange it is that, no matter how gross a superstition may\nhave polluted it, a holy place, if hallowed by long veneration, remains\nalways holy. Look at Delphi. What a fraud it was, and yet how hallowed\nit must ever remain. But letting this pass, Musical Banks, especially\nwhen of great age, always fascinated my father, and being now tired with\nhis walk, he sat down on one of the many rush-bottomed seats, and (for\nthere was no service at this hour) gave free rein to meditation.\n\nHow peaceful it all was with its droning old-world smell of ancestor, dry\nrot, and stale incense. As the clouds came and went, the grey-green,\ncobweb-chastened, light ebbed and flowed over the walls and ceiling; to\nwatch the fitfulness of its streams was a sufficient occupation. A hen\nlaid an egg outside and began to cackle--it was an event of magnitude; a\npeasant sharpening his scythe, a blacksmith hammering at his anvil, the\nclack of a wooden shoe upon the pavement, the boom of a bumble-bee, the\ndripping of the fountain, all these things, with such concert as they\nkept, invited the dewy-feathered sleep that visited him, and held him for\nthe best part of an hour.\n\nMy father has said that the Erewhonians never put up monuments or write\nepitaphs for their dead, and this he believed to be still true; but it\nwas not so always, and on waking his eye was caught by a monument of\ngreat beauty, which bore a date of about 1550 of our era. It was to an\nold lady, who must have been very loveable if the sweet smiling face of\nher recumbent figure was as faithful to the original as its strongly\nmarked individuality suggested. I need not give the earlier part of her\nepitaph, which was conventional enough, but my father was so struck with\nthe concluding lines, that he copied them into the note-book which he\nalways carried in his pocket. They ran:-\n\n   I fall asleep in the full and certain hope\n   That my slumber shall not be broken;\n   And that though I be all-forgetting,\n   Yet shall I not be all-forgotten,\n   But continue that life in the thoughts and deeds\n   Of those I loved,\n   Into which, while the power to strive was yet vouchsafed me,\n   I fondly strove to enter.\n\nMy father deplored his inability to do justice to the subtle tenderness\nof the original, but the above was the nearest he could get to it.\n\nHow different this from the opinions concerning a future state which he\nhad tried to set before the Erewhonians some twenty years earlier. It\nall came back to him, as the storks had done, now that he was again in an\nErewhonian environment, and he particularly remembered how one youth had\ninveighed against our European notions of heaven and hell with a\ncontemptuous flippancy that nothing but youth and ignorance could even\npalliate.\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d he had said to my father, \u201cyour heaven will not attract me unless\nI can take my clothes and my luggage. Yes; and I must lose my luggage\nand find it again. On arriving, I must be told that it has unfortunately\nbeen taken to a wrong circle, and that there may be some difficulty in\nrecovering it--or it shall have been sent up to mansion number five\nhundred thousand millions nine hundred thousand forty six thousand eight\nhundred and eleven, whereas it should have gone to four hundred thousand\nmillions, &c., &c.; and am I sure that I addressed it rightly? Then,\nwhen I am just getting cross enough to run some risk of being turned out,\nthe luggage shall make its appearance, hat-box, umbrella, rug,\ngolf-sticks, bicycle, and everything else all quite correct, and in my\ndelight I shall tip the angel double and realise that I am enjoying\nmyself.\n\n\u201cOr I must have asked what I could have for breakfast, and be told I\ncould have boiled eggs, or eggs and bacon, or filleted plaice. \u2018Filleted\nplaice,\u2019 I shall exclaim, \u2018no! not that. Have you any red mullets?\u2019 And\nthe angel will say, \u2018Why no, sir, the gulf has been so rough that there\nhas hardly any fish come in this three days, and there has been such a\nrun on it that we have nothing left but plaice.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, well,\u2019 I shall say, \u2018have you any kidneys?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You can have one kidney, sir\u2019, will be the answer.\n\n\u201c\u2018One kidney, indeed, and you call this heaven! At any rate you will\nhave sausages?\u2019\n\n\u201cThen the angel will say, \u2018We shall have some after Sunday, sir, but we\nare quite out of them at present.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd I shall say, somewhat sulkily, \u2018Then I suppose I must have eggs and\nbacon.\u2019\n\n\u201cBut in the morning there will come up a red mullet, beautifully cooked,\na couple of kidneys and three sausages browned to a turn, and seasoned\nwith just so much sage and thyme as will savour without overwhelming\nthem; and I shall eat everything. It shall then transpire that the angel\nknew about the luggage, and what I was to have for breakfast, all the\ntime, but wanted to give me the pleasure of finding things turn out\nbetter than I had expected. Heaven would be a dull place without such\noccasional petty false alarms as these.\u201d\n\nI have no business to leave my father\u2019s story, but the mouth of the ox\nthat treadeth out the corn should not be so closely muzzled that he\ncannot sometimes filch a mouthful for himself; and when I had copied out\nthe foregoing somewhat irreverent paragraphs, which I took down (with no\nimportant addition or alteration) from my father\u2019s lips, I could not\nrefrain from making a few reflections of my own, which I will ask the\nreader\u2019s forbearance if I lay before him.\n\nLet heaven and hell alone, but think of Hades, with Tantalus, Sisyphus,\nTityus, and all the rest of them. How futile were the attempts of the\nold Greeks and Romans to lay before us any plausible conception of\neternal torture. What were the Danaids doing but that which each one of\nus has to do during his or her whole life? What are our bodies if not\nsieves that we are for ever trying to fill, but which we must refill\ncontinually without hope of being able to keep them full for long\ntogether? Do we mind this? Not so long as we can get the wherewithal to\nfill them; and the Danaids never seem to have run short of water. They\nwould probably ere long take to clearing out any obstruction in their\nsieves if they found them getting choked. What could it matter to them\nwhether the sieves got full or no? They were not paid for filling them.\n\nSisyphus, again! Can any one believe that he would go on rolling that\nstone year after year and seeing it roll down again unless he liked\nseeing it? We are not told that there was a dragon which attacked him\nwhenever he tried to shirk. If he had greatly cared about getting his\nload over the last pinch, experience would have shown him some way of\ndoing so. The probability is that he got to enjoy the downward rush of\nhis stone, and very likely amused himself by so timing it as to cause the\ngreatest scare to the greatest number of the shades that were below.\n\nWhat though Tantalus found the water shun him and the fruits fly from him\nwhen he tried to seize them? The writer of the \u201cOdyssey\u201d gives us no\nhint that he was dying of thirst or hunger. The pores of his skin would\nabsorb enough water to prevent the first, and we may be sure that he got\nfruit enough, one way or another, to keep him going.\n\nTityus, as an effort after the conception of an eternity of torture, is\nnot successful. What could an eagle matter on the liver of a man whose\nbody covered nine acres? Before long he would find it an agreeable\nstimulant. If, then, the greatest minds of antiquity could invent\nnothing that should carry better conviction of eternal torture, is it\nlikely that the conviction can be carried at all?\n\nMethought I saw Jove sitting on the topmost ridges of Olympus and\nconfessing failure to Minerva. \u201cI see, my dear,\u201d he said, \u201cthat there is\nno use in trying to make people very happy or very miserable for long\ntogether. Pain, if it does not soon kill, consists not so much in\npresent suffering as in the still recent memory of a time when there was\nless, and in the fear that there will soon be more; and so happiness lies\nless in immediate pleasure than in lively recollection of a worse time\nand lively hope of better.\u201d\n\nAs for the young gentleman above referred to, my father met him with the\nassurance that there had been several cases in which living people had\nbeen caught up into heaven or carried down into hell, and been allowed to\nreturn to earth and report what they had seen; while to others visions\nhad been vouchsafed so clearly that thousands of authentic pictures had\nbeen painted of both states. All incentive to good conduct, he had then\nalleged, was found to be at once removed from those who doubted the\nfidelity of these pictures.\n\nThis at least was what he had then said, but I hardly think he would have\nsaid it at the time of which I am now writing. As he continued to sit in\nthe Musical Bank, he took from his valise the pamphlet on \u201cThe Physics of\nVicarious Existence,\u201d by Dr. Gurgoyle, which he had bought on the\npreceding evening, doubtless being led to choose this particular work by\nthe tenor of the old lady\u2019s epitaph.\n\nThe second title he found to run, \u201cBeing Strictures on Certain Heresies\nconcerning a Future State that have been Engrafted on the Sunchild\u2019s\nTeaching.\u201d\n\nMy father shuddered as he read this title. \u201cHow long,\u201d he said to\nhimself, \u201cwill it be before they are at one another\u2019s throats?\u201d\n\nOn reading the pamphlet, he found it added little to what the epitaph had\nalready conveyed; but it interested him, as showing that, however\ncataclysmic a change of national opinions may appear to be, people will\nfind means of bringing the new into more or less conformity with the old.\n\nHere it is a mere truism to say that many continue to live a vicarious\nlife long after they have ceased to be aware of living. This view is as\nold as the _non omnis moriar_ of Horace, and we may be sure some\nthousands of years older. It is only, therefore, with much diffidence\nthat I have decided to give a _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of opinions many of which those\nwhom I alone wish to please will have laid to heart from their youth\nupwards. In brief, Dr. Gurgoyle\u2019s contention comes to little more than\nsaying that the quick are more dead, and the dead more quick, than we\ncommonly think. To be alive, according to him, is only to be unable to\nunderstand how dead one is, and to be dead is only to be invincibly\nignorant concerning our own livingness--for the dead would be as living\nas the living if we could only get them to believe it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI: PRESIDENT GURGOYLE\u2019S PAMPHLET \u201cON THE PHYSICS OF VICARIOUS\nEXISTENCE\u201d\n\n\nBelief, like any other moving body, follows the path of least resistance,\nand this path had led Dr. Gurgoyle to the conviction, real or feigned,\nthat my father was son to the sun, probably by the moon, and that his\nascent into the sky with an earthly bride was due to the sun\u2019s\ninterference with the laws of nature. Nevertheless he was looked upon as\nmore or less of a survival, and was deemed lukewarm, if not heretical, by\nthose who seemed to be the pillars of the new system.\n\nMy father soon found that not even Panky could manipulate his teaching\nmore freely than the Doctor had done. My father had taught that when a\nman was dead there was an end of him, until he should rise again in the\nflesh at the last day, to enter into eternity either of happiness or\nmisery. He had, indeed, often talked of the immortality which some\nachieve even in this world; but he had cheapened this, declaring it to be\nan unsubstantial mockery, that could give no such comfort in the hour of\ndeath as was unquestionably given by belief in heaven and hell.\n\nDr. Gurgoyle, however, had an equal horror, on the one hand, of anything\ninvolving resumption of life by the body when it was once dead, and on\nthe other, of the view that life ended with the change which we call\ndeath. He did not, indeed, pretend that he could do much to take away\nthe sting from death, nor would he do this if he could, for if men did\nnot fear death unduly, they would often court it unduly. Death can only\nbe belauded at the cost of belittling life; but he held that a reasonable\nassurance of fair fame after death is a truer consolation to the dying, a\ntruer comfort to surviving friends, and a more real incentive to good\nconduct in this life, than any of the consolations or incentives falsely\nfathered upon the Sunchild.\n\nHe began by setting aside every saying ascribed, however truly, to my\nfather, if it made against his views, and by putting his own glosses on\nall that he could gloze into an appearance of being in his favour. I\nwill pass over his attempt to combat the rapidly spreading belief in a\nheaven and hell such as we accept, and will only summarise his contention\nthat, of our two lives--namely, the one we live in our own persons, and\nthat other life which we live in other people both before our reputed\ndeath and after it--the second is as essential a factor of our complete\nlife as the first is, and sometimes more so.\n\nLife, he urged, lies not in bodily organs, but in the power to use them,\nand in the use that is made of them--that is to say, in the work they do.\nAs the essence of a factory is not in the building wherein the work is\ndone, nor yet in the implements used in turning it out, but in the will-\npower of the master and in the goods he makes; so the true life of a man\nis in his will and work, not in his body. \u201cThose,\u201d he argued, \u201cwho make\nthe life of a man reside within his body, are like one who should mistake\nthe carpenter\u2019s tool-box for the carpenter.\u201d\n\nHe maintained that this had been my father\u2019s teaching, for which my\nfather heartily trusts that he may be forgiven.\n\nHe went on to say that our will-power is not wholly limited to the\nworking of its own special system of organs, but under certain conditions\ncan work and be worked upon by other will-powers like itself: so that if,\nfor example, A\u2019s will-power has got such hold on B\u2019s as to be able,\nthrough B, to work B\u2019s mechanism, what seems to have been B\u2019s action will\nin reality have been more A\u2019s than B\u2019s, and this in the same real sense\nas though the physical action had been effected through A\u2019s own\nmechanical system--A, in fact, will have been living in B. The\nuniversally admitted maxim that he who does this or that by the hand of\nan agent does it himself, shews that the foregoing view is only a\nroundabout way of stating what common sense treats as a matter of course.\n\nHence, though A\u2019s individual will-power must be held to cease when the\ntools it works with are destroyed or out of gear, yet, so long as any\nsurvivors were so possessed by it while it was still efficient, or,\nagain, become so impressed by its operation on them through work that he\nhas left, as to act in obedience to his will-power rather than their own,\nA has a certain amount of _bon\u00e2 fide_ life still remaining. His\nvicarious life is not affected by the dissolution of his body; and in\nmany cases the sum total of a man\u2019s vicarious action and of its outcome\nexceeds to an almost infinite extent the sum total of those actions and\nworks that were effected through the mechanism of his own physical\norgans. In these cases his vicarious life is more truly his life than\nany that he lived in his own person.\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d continued the Doctor, \u201cwhile living in his own person, a man\nknows, or thinks he knows, what he is doing, whereas we have no reason to\nsuppose such knowledge on the part of one whose body is already dust; but\nthe consciousness of the doer has less to do with the livingness of the\ndeed than people generally admit. We know nothing of the power that sets\nour heart beating, nor yet of the beating itself so long as it is normal.\nWe know nothing of our breathing or of our digestion, of the\nall-important work we achieved as embryos, nor of our growth from infancy\nto manhood. No one will say that these were not actions of a living\nagent, but the more normal, the healthier, and thus the more truly\nliving, the agent is, the less he will know or have known of his own\naction. The part of our bodily life that enters into our consciousness\nis very small as compared with that of which we have no consciousness.\nWhat completer proof can we have that livingness consists in deed rather\nthan in consciousness of deed?\n\n\u201cThe foregoing remarks are not intended to apply so much to vicarious\naction in virtue, we will say, of a settlement, or testamentary\ndisposition that cannot be set aside. Such action is apt to be too\nunintelligent, too far from variation and quick change to rank as true\nvicarious action; indeed it is not rarely found to effect the very\nopposite of what the person who made the settlement or will desired. They\nare meant to apply to that more intelligent and versatile action\nengendered by affectionate remembrance. Nevertheless, even the\ncompulsory vicarious action taken in consequence of a will, and indeed\nthe very name \u201cwill\u201d itself, shews that though we cannot take either\nflesh or money with us, we can leave our will-power behind us in very\nefficient operation.\n\n\u201cThis vicarious life (on which I have insisted, I fear at unnecessary\nlength, for it is so obvious that none can have failed to realise it) is\nlived by every one of us before death as well as after it, and is little\nless important to us than that of which we are to some extent conscious\nin our own persons. A man, we will say, has written a book which\ndelights or displeases thousands of whom he knows nothing, and who know\nnothing of him. The book, we will suppose, has considerable, or at any\nrate some influence on the action of these people. Let us suppose the\nwriter fast asleep while others are enjoying his work, and acting in\nconsequence of it, perhaps at long distances from him. Which is his\ntruest life--the one he is leading in them, or that equally unconscious\nlife residing in his own sleeping body? Can there be a doubt that the\nvicarious life is the more efficient?\n\n\u201cOr when we are waking, how powerfully does not the life we are living in\nothers pain or delight us, according as others think ill or well of us?\nHow truly do we not recognise it as part of our own existence, and how\ngreat an influence does not the fear of a present hell in men\u2019s bad\nthoughts, and the hope of a present heaven in their good ones, influence\nour own conduct? Have we not here a true heaven and a true hell, as\ncompared with the efficiency of which these gross material ones so\nfalsely engrafted on to the Sunchild\u2019s teaching are but as the flint\nimplements of a prehistoric race? \u2018If a man,\u2019 said the Sunchild, \u2018fear\nnot man, whom he hath seen, neither will he fear God, whom he hath not\nseen.\u2019\u201d\n\nMy father again assures me that he never said this. Returning to Dr.\nGurgoyle, he continued:--\u201cIt may be urged that on a man\u2019s death one of\nthe great factors of his life is so annihilated that no kind of true life\ncan be any further conceded to him. For to live is to be influenced, as\nwell as to influence; and when a man is dead how can he be influenced? He\ncan haunt, but he cannot any more be haunted. He can come to us, but we\ncannot go to him. On ceasing, therefore, to be impressionable, so great\na part of that wherein his life consisted is removed, that no true life\ncan be conceded to him.\n\n\u201cI do not pretend that a man is as fully alive after his so-called death\nas before it. He is not. All I contend for is, that a considerable\namount of efficient life still remains to some of us, and that a little\nlife remains to all of us, after what we commonly regard as the complete\ncessation of life. In answer, then, to those who have just urged that\nthe destruction of one of the two great factors of life destroys life\naltogether, I reply that the same must hold good as regards death.\n\n\u201cIf to live is to be influenced and to influence, and if a man cannot be\nheld as living when he can no longer be influenced, surely to die is to\nbe no longer able either to influence or be influenced, and a man cannot\nbe held dead until both these two factors of death are present. If\nfailure of the power to be influenced vitiates life, presence of the\npower to influence vitiates death. And no one will deny that a man can\ninfluence for many a long year after he is vulgarly reputed as dead.\n\n\u201cIt seems, then, that there is no such thing as either absolute life\nwithout any alloy of death, nor absolute death without any alloy of life,\nuntil, that is to say, all posthumous power to influence has faded away.\nAnd this, perhaps, is what the Sunchild meant by saying that in the midst\nof life we are in death, and so also that in the midst of death we are in\nlife.\n\n\u201cAnd there is this, too. No man can influence fully until he can no more\nbe influenced--that is to say, till after his so-called death. Till\nthen, his \u2018he\u2019 is still unsettled. We know not what other influences may\nnot be brought to bear upon him that may change the character of the\ninfluence he will exert on ourselves. Therefore, he is not fully living\ntill he is no longer living. He is an incomplete work, which cannot have\nfull effect till finished. And as for his vicarious life--which we have\nseen to be very real--this can be, and is, influenced by just\nappreciation, undue praise or calumny, and is subject, it may be, to\nsecular vicissitudes of good and evil fortune.\n\n\u201cIf this is not true, let us have no more talk about the immortality of\ngreat men and women. The Sunchild was never weary of talking to us (as\nwe then sometimes thought, a little tediously) about a great poet of that\nnation to which it pleased him to feign that he belonged. How plainly\ncan we not now see that his words were spoken for our learning--for the\nenforcement of that true view of heaven and hell on which I am feebly\ntrying to insist? The poet\u2019s name, he said, was Shakespeare. Whilst he\nwas alive, very few people understood his greatness; whereas now, after\nsome three hundred years, he is deemed the greatest poet that the world\nhas ever known. \u2018Can this man,\u2019 he asked, \u2018be said to have been truly\nborn till many a long year after he had been reputed as truly dead? While\nhe was in the flesh, was he more than a mere embryo growing towards birth\ninto that life of the world to come in which he now shines so gloriously?\nWhat a small thing was that flesh and blood life, of which he was alone\nconscious, as compared with that fleshless life which he lives but knows\nnot in the lives of millions, and which, had it ever been fully revealed\neven to his imagination, we may be sure that he could not have reached?\u2019\n\n\u201cThese were the Sunchild\u2019s words, as repeated to me by one of his chosen\nfriends while he was yet amongst us. Which, then, of this man\u2019s two\nlives should we deem best worth having, if we could choose one or other,\nbut not both? The felt or the unfelt? Who would not go cheerfully to\nblock or stake if he knew that by doing so he could win such life as this\npoet lives, though he also knew that on having won it he could know no\nmore about it? Does not this prove that in our heart of hearts we deem\nan unfelt life, in the heaven of men\u2019s loving thoughts, to be better\nworth having than any we can reasonably hope for and still feel?\n\n\u201cAnd the converse of this is true; many a man has unhesitatingly laid\ndown his felt life to escape unfelt infamy in the hell of men\u2019s hatred\nand contempt. As body is the sacrament, or outward and visible sign, of\nmind; so is posterity the sacrament of those who live after death. Each\nis the mechanism through which the other becomes effective.\n\n\u201cI grant that many live but a short time when the breath is out of them.\nFew seeds germinate as compared with those that rot or are eaten, and\nmost of this world\u2019s denizens are little more than still-born as regards\nthe larger life, while none are immortal to the end of time. But the end\nof time is not worth considering; not a few live as many centuries as\neither they or we need think about, and surely the world, so far as we\ncan guess its object, was made rather to be enjoyed than to last. \u2018Come\nand go\u2019 pervades all things of which we have knowledge, and if there was\nany provision made, it seems to have been for a short life and a merry\none, with enough chance of extension beyond the grave to be worth trying\nfor, rather than for the perpetuity even of the best and noblest.\n\n\u201cGranted, again, that few live after death as long or as fully as they\nhad hoped to do, while many, when quick, can have had none but the\nfaintest idea of the immortality that awaited them; it is nevertheless\ntrue that none are so still-born on death as not to enter into a life of\nsome sort, however short and humble. A short life or a long one can no\nmore be bargained for in the unseen world than in the seen; as, however,\ncare on the part of parents can do much for the longer life and greater\nwell-being of their offspring in this world, so the conduct of that\noffspring in this world does much both to secure for itself longer tenure\nof life in the next, and to determine whether that life shall be one of\nreward or punishment.\n\n\u201c\u2018Reward or punishment,\u2019 some reader will perhaps exclaim; \u2018what mockery,\nwhen the essence of reward and punishment lies in their being felt by\nthose who have earned them.\u2019 I can do nothing with those who either cry\nfor the moon, or deny that it has two sides, on the ground that we can\nsee but one. Here comes in faith, of which the Sunchild said, that\nthough we can do little with it, we can do nothing without it. Faith\ndoes not consist, as some have falsely urged, in believing things on\ninsufficient evidence; this is not faith, but faithlessness to all that\nwe should hold most faithfully. Faith consists in holding that the\ninstincts of the best men and women are in themselves an evidence which\nmay not be set aside lightly; and the best men and women have ever held\nthat death is better than dishonour, and desirable if honour is to be won\nthereby.\n\n\u201cIt follows, then, that though our conscious flesh and blood life is the\nonly one that we can fully apprehend, yet we do also indeed move, even\nhere, in an unseen world, wherein, when our palpable life is ended, we\nshall continue to live for a shorter or longer time--reaping roughly,\nthough not infallibly, much as we have sown. Of this unseen world the\nbest men and women will be almost as heedless while in the flesh as they\nwill be when their life in flesh is over; for, as the Sunchild often\nsaid, \u2018The Kingdom of Heaven cometh not by observation.\u2019 It will be all\nin all to them, and at the same time nothing, for the better people they\nare, the less they will think of anything but this present life.\n\n\u201cWhat an ineffable contradiction in terms have we not here. What a\nreversal, is it not, of all this world\u2019s canons, that we should hold even\nthe best of all that we can know or feel in this life to be a poor thing\nas compared with hopes the fulfilment of which we can never either feel\nor know. Yet we all hold this, however little we may admit it to\nourselves. For the world at heart despises its own canons.\u201d\n\nI cannot quote further from Dr. Gurgoyle\u2019s pamphlet; suffice it that he\npresently dealt with those who say that it is not right of any man to aim\nat thrusting himself in among the living when he has had his day. \u201cLet\nhim die,\u201d say they, \u201cand let die as his fathers before him.\u201d He argued\nthat as we had a right to pester people till we got ourselves born, so\nalso we have a right to pester them for extension of life beyond the\ngrave. Life, whether before the grave or afterwards, is like love--all\nreason is against it, and all healthy instinct for it. Instinct on such\nmatters is the older and safer guide; no one, therefore, should seek to\nefface himself as regards the next world more than as regards this. If\nhe is to be effaced, let others efface him; do not let him commit\nsuicide. Freely we have received; freely, therefore, let us take as much\nmore as we can get, and let it be a stand-up fight between ourselves and\nposterity to see whether it can get rid of us or no. If it can, let it;\nif it cannot, it must put up with us. It can better care for itself than\nwe can for ourselves when the breath is out of us.\n\nNot the least important duty, he continued, of posterity towards itself\nlies in passing righteous judgement on the forbears who stand up before\nit. They should be allowed the benefit of a doubt, and peccadilloes\nshould be ignored; but when no doubt exists that a man was engrainedly\nmean and cowardly, his reputation must remain in the Purgatory of Time\nfor a term varying from, say, a hundred to two thousand years. After a\nhundred years it may generally come down, though it will still be under a\ncloud. After two thousand years it may be mentioned in any society\nwithout holding up of hands in horror. Our sense of moral guilt varies\ninversely as the squares of its distance in time and space from\nourselves.\n\nNot so with heroism; this loses no lustre through time and distance. Good\nis gold; it is rare, but it will not tarnish. Evil is like dirty\nwater--plentiful and foul, but it will run itself clear of taint.\n\nThe Doctor having thus expatiated on his own opinions concerning heaven\nand hell, concluded by tilting at those which all right-minded people\nhold among ourselves. I shall adhere to my determination not to\nreproduce his arguments; suffice it that though less flippant than those\nof the young student whom I have already referred to, they were more\nplausible; and though I could easily demolish them, the reader will\nprobably prefer that I should not set them up for the mere pleasure of\nknocking them down. Here, then, I take my leave of good Dr. Gurgoyle and\nhis pamphlet; neither can I interrupt my story further by saying anything\nabout the other two pamphlets purchased by my father.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII: GEORGE FAILS TO FIND MY FATHER, WHEREON YRAM CAUTIONS THE\nPROFESSORS\n\n\nOn the morning after the interview with her son described in a foregoing\nchapter, Yram told her husband what she had gathered from the Professors,\nand said that she was expecting Higgs every moment, inasmuch as she was\nconfident that George would soon find him.\n\n\u201cDo what you like, my dear,\u201d said the Mayor. \u201cI shall keep out of the\nway, for you will manage him better without me. You know what I think of\nyou.\u201d\n\nHe then went unconcernedly to his breakfast, at which the Professors\nfound him somewhat taciturn. Indeed they set him down as one of the\ndullest and most uninteresting people they had ever met.\n\nWhen George returned and told his mother that though he had at last found\nthe inn at which my father had slept, my father had left and could not be\ntraced, she was disconcerted, but after a few minutes she said--\n\n\u201cHe will come back here for the dedication, but there will be such crowds\nthat we may not see him till he is inside the temple, and it will save\ntrouble if we can lay hold on him sooner. Therefore, ride either to\nClearwater or Fairmead, and see if you can find him. Try Fairmead first;\nit is more out of the way. If you cannot hear of him there, come back,\nget another horse, and try Clearwater. If you fail here too, we must\ngive him up, and look out for him in the temple to-morrow morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you going to say anything to the Professors?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot if you can bring Higgs here before night-fall. If you cannot do\nthis I must talk it over with my husband; I shall have some hours in\nwhich to make up my mind. Now go--the sooner the better.\u201d\n\nIt was nearly eleven, and in a few minutes George was on his way. By\nnoon he was at Fairmead, where he tried all the inns in vain for news of\na person answering the description of my father--for not knowing what\nname my father might choose to give, he could trust only to description.\nHe concluded that since my father could not be heard of in Fairmead by\none o\u2019clock (as it nearly was by the time he had been round all the inns)\nhe must have gone somewhere else; he therefore rode back to Sunch\u2019ston,\nmade a hasty lunch, got a fresh horse, and rode to Clearwater, where he\nmet with no better success. At all the inns both at Fairmead and\nClearwater he left word that if the person he had described came later in\nthe day, he was to be told that the Mayoress particularly begged him to\nreturn at once to Sunch\u2019ston, and come to the Mayor\u2019s house.\n\nNow all the time that George was at Fairmead my father was inside the\nMusical Bank, which he had entered before going to any inn. Here he had\nbeen sitting for nearly a couple of hours, resting, dreaming, and reading\nBishop Gurgoyle\u2019s pamphlet. If he had left the Bank five minutes\nearlier, he would probably have been seen by George in the main street of\nFairmead--as he found out on reaching the inn which he selected and\nordering dinner.\n\nHe had hardly got inside the house before the waiter told him that young\nMr. Strong, the Ranger from Sunch\u2019ston, had been enquiring for him and\nhad left a message for him, which was duly delivered.\n\nMy father, though in reality somewhat disquieted, showed no uneasiness,\nand said how sorry he was to have missed seeing Mr. Strong. \u201cBut,\u201d he\nadded, \u201cit does not much matter; I need not go back this afternoon, for I\nshall be at Sunch\u2019ston to-morrow morning and will go straight to the\nMayor\u2019s.\u201d\n\nHe had no suspicion that he was discovered, but he was a good deal\npuzzled. Presently he inclined to the opinion that George, still\nbelieving him to be Professor Panky, had wanted to invite him to the\nbanquet on the following day--for he had no idea that Hanky and Panky\nwere staying with the Mayor and Mayoress. Or perhaps the Mayor and his\nwife did not like so distinguished a man\u2019s having been unable to find a\nlodging in Sunch\u2019ston, and wanted him to stay with them. Ill satisfied\nas he was with any theory he could form, he nevertheless reflected that\nhe could not do better than stay where he was for the night, inasmuch as\nno one would be likely to look for him a second time at Fairmead. He\ntherefore ordered his room at once.\n\nIt was nearly seven before George got back to Sunch\u2019ston. In the\nmeantime Yram and the Mayor had considered the question whether anything\nwas to be said to the Professors or no. They were confident that my\nfather would not commit himself--why, indeed, should he have dyed his\nhair and otherwise disguised himself, if he had not intended to remain\nundiscovered? Oh no; the probability was that if nothing was said to the\nProfessors now, nothing need ever be said, for my father might be\nescorted back to the statues by George on the Sunday evening and be told\nthat he was not to return. Moreover, even though something untoward were\nto happen after all, the Professors would have no reason for thinking\nthat their hostess had known of the Sunchild\u2019s being in Sunch\u2019ston.\n\nOn the other hand, they were her guests, and it would not be handsome to\nkeep Hanky, at any rate, in the dark, when the knowledge that the\nSunchild was listening to every word he said might make him modify his\nsermon not a little. It might or it might not, but that was a matter for\nhim, not her. The only question for her was whether or no it would be\nsharp practice to know what she knew and say nothing about it. Her\nhusband hated _finesse_ as much as she did, and they settled it that\nthough the question was a nice one, the more proper thing to do would be\nto tell the Professors what it might so possibly concern one or both of\nthem to know.\n\nOn George\u2019s return without news of my father, they found he thought just\nas they did; so it was arranged that they should let the Professors dine\nin peace, but tell them about the Sunchild\u2019s being again in Erewhon as\nsoon as dinner was over.\n\n\u201cHappily,\u201d said George, \u201cthey will do no harm. They will wish Higgs\u2019s\npresence to remain unknown as much as we do, and they will be glad that\nhe should be got out of the country immediately.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot so, my dear,\u201d said Yram. \u201c\u2018Out of the country\u2019 will not do for\nthose people. Nothing short of \u2018out of the world\u2019 will satisfy them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said George promptly, \u201cmust not be.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not, my dear, but that is what they will want. I do not like\nhaving to tell them, but I am afraid we must.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind,\u201d said the Mayor, laughing. \u201cTell them, and let us see what\nhappens.\u201d\n\nThey then dressed for dinner, where Hanky and Panky were the only guests.\nWhen dinner was over Yram sent away her other children, George alone\nremaining. He sat opposite the Professors, while the Mayor and Yram were\nat the two ends of the table.\n\n\u201cI am afraid, dear Professor Hanky,\u201d said Yram, \u201cthat I was not quite\nopen with you last night, but I wanted time to think things over, and I\nknow you will forgive me when you remember what a number of guests I had\nto attend to.\u201d She then referred to what Hanky had told her about the\nsupposed ranger, and shewed him how obvious it was that this man was a\nforeigner, who had been for some time in Erewhon more than seventeen\nyears ago, but had had no communication with it since then. Having\npointed sufficiently, as she thought, to the Sunchild, she said, \u201cYou see\nwho I believe this man to have been. Have I said enough, or shall I say\nmore?\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand you,\u201d said Hanky, \u201cand I agree with you that the Sunchild\nwill be in the temple to-morrow. It is a serious business, but I shall\nnot alter my sermon. He must listen to what I may choose to say, and I\nwish I could tell him what a fool he was for coming here. If he behaves\nhimself, well and good: your son will arrest him quietly after service,\nand by night he will be in the Blue Pool. Your son is bound to throw him\nthere as a foreign devil, without the formality of a trial. It would be\na most painful duty to me, but unless I am satisfied that that man has\nbeen thrown into the Blue Pool, I shall have no option but to report the\nmatter at headquarters. If, on the other hand, the poor wretch makes a\ndisturbance, I can set the crowd on to tear him in pieces.\u201d\n\nGeorge was furious, but he remained quite calm, and left everything to\nhis mother.\n\n\u201cI have nothing to do with the Blue Pool,\u201d said Yram drily. \u201cMy son, I\ndoubt not, will know how to do his duty; but if you let the people kill\nthis man, his body will remain, and an inquest must be held, for the\nmatter will have been too notorious to be hushed up. All Higgs\u2019s\nmeasurements and all marks on his body were recorded, and these alone\nwould identify him. My father, too, who is still master of the gaol, and\nmany another, could swear to him. Should the body prove, as no doubt it\nwould, to be that of the Sunchild, what is to become of Sunchildism?\u201d\n\nHanky smiled. \u201cIt would not be proved. The measurements of a man of\ntwenty or thereabouts would not correspond with this man\u2019s. All we\nProfessors should attend the inquest, and half Bridgeford is now in\nSunch\u2019ston. No matter though nine-tenths of the marks and measurements\ncorresponded, so long as there is a tenth that does not do so, we should\nnot be flesh and blood if we did not ignore the nine points and insist\nonly on the tenth. After twenty years we shall find enough to serve our\nturn. Think of what all the learning of the country is committed to;\nthink of the change in all our ideas and institutions; think of the King\nand of Court influence. I need not enlarge. We shall not permit the\nbody to be the Sunchild\u2019s. No matter what evidence you may produce, we\nshall sneer it down, and say we must have more before you can expect us\nto take you seriously; if you bring more, we shall pay no attention; and\nthe more you bring the more we shall laugh at you. No doubt those among\nus who are by way of being candid will admit that your arguments ought to\nbe considered, but you must not expect that it will be any part of their\nduty to consider them.\n\n\u201cAnd even though we admitted that the body had been proved up to the hilt\nto be the Sunchild\u2019s, do you think that such a trifle as that could\naffect Sunchildism? Hardly. Sunch\u2019ston is no match for Bridgeford and\nthe King; our only difficulty would lie in settling which was the most\nplausible way of the many plausible ways in which the death could be\nexplained. We should hatch up twenty theories in less than twenty hours,\nand the last state of Sunchildism would be stronger than the first. For\nthe people want it, and so long as they want it they will have it. At\nthe same time the supposed identification of the body, even by some few\nignorant people here, might lead to a local heresy that is as well\navoided, and it will be better that your son should arrest the man before\nthe dedication, if he can be found, and throw him into the Blue Pool\nwithout any one but ourselves knowing that he has been here at all.\u201d\n\nI need not dwell on the deep disgust with which this speech was listened\nto, but the Mayor, and Yram, and George said not a word.\n\n\u201cBut, Mayoress,\u201d said Panky, who had not opened his lips so far, \u201care you\nsure that you are not too hasty in believing this stranger to be the\nSunchild? People are continually thinking that such and such another is\nthe Sunchild come down again from the sun\u2019s palace and going to and fro\namong us. How many such stories, sometimes very plausibly told, have we\nnot had during the last twenty years? They never take root, and die out\nof themselves as suddenly as they spring up. That the man is a poacher\ncan hardly be doubted; I thought so the moment I saw him; but I think I\ncan also prove to you that he is not a foreigner, and, therefore, that he\nis not the Sunchild. He quoted the Sunchild\u2019s prayer with a corruption\nthat can have only reached him from an Erewhonian source--\u201d\n\nHere Hanky interrupted him somewhat brusquely. \u201cThe man, Panky,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cwas the Sunchild; and he was not a poacher, for he had no idea that\nhe was breaking the law; nevertheless, as you say, Sunchildism on the\nbrain has been a common form of mania for several years. Several persons\nhave even believed themselves to be the Sunchild. We must not forget\nthis, if it should get about that Higgs has been here.\u201d\n\nThen, turning to Yram, he said sternly, \u201cBut come what may, your son must\ntake him to the Blue Pool at nightfall.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir,\u201d said George, with perfect suavity, \u201cyou have spoken as though you\ndoubted my readiness to do my duty. Let me assure you very solemnly that\nwhen the time comes for me to act, I shall act as duty may direct.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will answer for him,\u201d said Yram, with even more than her usual quick,\nfrank smile, \u201cthat he will fulfil his instructions to the letter,\nunless,\u201d she added, \u201csome black and white horses come down from heaven\nand snatch poor Higgs out of his grasp. Such things have happened before\nnow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should advise your son to shoot them if they do,\u201d said Hanky drily and\nsub-defiantly.\n\nHere the conversation closed; but it was useless trying to talk of\nanything else, so the Professors asked Yram to excuse them if they\nretired early, in view of the fact that they had a fatiguing day before\nthem. This excuse their hostess readily accepted.\n\n\u201cDo not let us talk any more now,\u201d said Yram as soon as they had left the\nroom. \u201cIt will be quite time enough when the dedication is over. But I\nrather think the black and white horses will come.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think so too, my dear,\u201d said the Mayor laughing.\n\n\u201cThey shall come,\u201d said George gravely; \u201cbut we have not yet got enough\nto make sure of bringing them. Higgs will perhaps be able to help me to-\nmorrow.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\n\u201cNow what,\u201d said Panky as they went upstairs, \u201cdoes that woman mean--for\nshe means something? Black and white horses indeed!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know what she means to do,\u201d said the other, \u201cbut I know that\nshe thinks she can best us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish we had not eaten those quails.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, Panky; no one saw us but Higgs, and the evidence of a foreign\ndevil, in such straits as his, could not stand for a moment. We did not\neat them. No, no; she has something that she thinks better than that.\nBesides, it is absolutely impossible that she should have heard what\nhappened. What I do not understand is, why she should have told us about\nthe Sunchild\u2019s being here at all. Why not have left us to find it out or\nto know nothing about it? I do not understand it.\u201d\n\nSo true is it, as Euclid long since observed, that the less cannot\ncomprehend that which is the greater. True, however, as this is, it is\nalso sometimes true that the greater cannot comprehend the less. Hanky\nwent musing to his own room and threw himself into an easy chair to think\nthe position over. After a few minutes he went to a table on which he\nsaw pen, ink, and paper, and wrote a short letter; then he rang the bell.\n\nWhen the servant came he said, \u201cI want to send this note to the manager\nof the new temple, and it is important that he should have it to-night.\nBe pleased, therefore, to take it to him and deliver it into his own\nhands; but I had rather you said nothing about it to the Mayor or\nMayoress, nor to any of your fellow-servants. Slip out unperceived if\nyou can. When you have delivered the note, ask for an answer at once,\nand bring it to me.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he slipped a sum equal to about five shillings into the man\u2019s\nhand.\n\nThe servant returned in about twenty minutes, for the temple was quite\nnear, and gave a note to Hanky, which ran, \u201cYour wishes shall be attended\nto without fail.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d said Hanky to the man. \u201cNo one in the house knows of your having\nrun this errand for me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you! I wish you a very good night.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII: A VISIT TO THE PROVINCIAL DEFORMATORY AT FAIRMEAD\n\n\nHaving finished his early dinner, and not fearing that he should be\neither recognised at Fairmead or again enquired after from Sunch\u2019ston, my\nfather went out for a stroll round the town, to see what else he could\nfind that should be new and strange to him. He had not gone far before\nhe saw a large building with an inscription saying that it was the\nProvincial Deformatory for Boys. Underneath the larger inscription there\nwas a smaller one--one of those corrupt versions of my father\u2019s sayings,\nwhich, on dipping into the Sayings of the Sunchild, he had found to be so\nvexatiously common. The inscription ran:-\n\n   \u201cWhen the righteous man turneth away from the righteousness that he\n   hath committed, and doeth that which is a little naughty and wrong, he\n   will generally be found to have gained in amiability what he has lost\n   in righteousness.\u201d Sunchild Sayings, chap. xxii. v. 15.\n\nThe case of the little girl that he had watched earlier in the day had\nfilled him with a great desire to see the working of one of these curious\ninstitutions; he therefore resolved to call on the headmaster (whose name\nhe found to be Turvey), and enquire about terms, alleging that he had a\nboy whose incorrigible rectitude was giving him much anxiety. The\ninformation he had gained in the forenoon would be enough to save him\nfrom appearing to know nothing of the system. On having rung the bell,\nhe announced himself to the servant as a Mr. Senoj, and asked if he could\nsee the Principal.\n\nAlmost immediately he was ushered into the presence of a beaming, dapper-\nlooking, little old gentleman, quick of speech and movement, in spite of\nsome little portliness.\n\n\u201cTs, ts, ts,\u201d he said, when my father had enquired about terms and asked\nwhether he might see the system at work. \u201cHow unfortunate that you\nshould have called on a Saturday afternoon. We always have a\nhalf-holiday. But stay--yes--that will do very nicely; I will send for\nthem into school as a means of stimulating their refractory system.\u201d\n\nHe called his servant and told him to ring the boys into school. Then,\nturning to my father he said, \u201cStand here, sir, by the window; you will\nsee them all come trooping in. H\u2019m, h\u2019m, I am sorry to see them still\ncome back as soon as they hear the bell. I suppose I shall ding some\nrecalcitrancy into them some day, but it is uphill work. Do you see the\nhead-boy--the third of those that are coming up the path? I shall have\nto get rid of him. Do you see him? he is going back to whip up the\nlaggers--and now he has boxed a boy\u2019s ears: that boy is one of the most\nhopeful under my care. I feel sure he has been using improper language,\nand my head-boy has checked him instead of encouraging him.\u201d And so on\ntill the boys were all in school.\n\n\u201cYou see, my dear sir,\u201d he said to my father, \u201cwe are in an impossible\nposition. We have to obey instructions from the Grand Council of\nEducation at Bridgeford, and they have established these institutions in\nconsequence of the Sunchild\u2019s having said that we should aim at promoting\nthe greatest happiness of the greatest number. This, no doubt, is a\nsound principle, and the greatest number are by nature somewhat dull,\nconceited, and unscrupulous. They do not like those who are quick,\nunassuming, and sincere; how, then, consistently with the first\nprinciples either of morality or political economy as revealed to us by\nthe Sunchild, can we encourage such people if we can bring sincerity and\nmodesty fairly home to them? We cannot do so. And we must correct the\nyoung as far as possible from forming habits which, unless indulged in\nwith the greatest moderation, are sure to ruin them.\n\n\u201cI cannot pretend to consider myself very successful. I do my best, but\nI can only aim at making my school a reflection of the outside world. In\nthe outside world we have to tolerate much that is prejudicial to the\ngreatest happiness of the greatest number, partly because we cannot\nalways discover in time who may be let alone as being genuinely\ninsincere, and who are in reality masking sincerity under a garb of\nflippancy, and partly also because we wish to err on the side of letting\nthe guilty escape, rather than of punishing the innocent. Thus many\npeople who are perfectly well known to belong to the straightforward\nclasses are allowed to remain at large, and may be even seen hobnobbing\nwith the guardians of public immorality. Indeed it is not in the public\ninterest that straightforwardness should be extirpated root and branch,\nfor the presence of a small modicum of sincerity acts as a wholesome\nirritant to the academicism of the greatest number, stimulating it to\nconsciousness of its own happy state, and giving it something to look\ndown upon. Moreover, we hold it useful to have a certain number of\nmelancholy examples, whose notorious failure shall serve as a warning to\nthose who neglect cultivating that power of immoral self-control which\nshall prevent them from saying, or even thinking, anything that shall not\nimmediately and palpably minister to the happiness, and hence meet the\napproval, of the greatest number.\u201d\n\nBy this time the boys were all in school. \u201cThere is not one prig in the\nwhole lot,\u201d said the headmaster sadly. \u201cI wish there was, but only those\nboys come here who are notoriously too good to become current coin in the\nworld unless they are hardened with an alloy of vice. I should have\nliked to show you our gambling, book-making, and speculation class, but\nthe assistant-master who attends to this branch of our curriculum is gone\nto Sunch\u2019ston this afternoon. He has friends who have asked him to see\nthe dedication of the new temple, and he will not be back till Monday. I\nreally do not know what I can do better for you than examine the boys in\nCounsels of Imperfection.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he went into the schoolroom, over the fireplace of which my\nfather\u2019s eye caught an inscription, \u201cResist good, and it will fly from\nyou. Sunchild\u2019s Sayings, xvii. 2.\u201d Then, taking down a copy of the work\njust named from a shelf above his desk, he ran his eye over a few of its\npages.\n\nHe called up a class of about twenty boys.\n\n\u201cNow, my boys,\u201d he said, \u201cWhy is it so necessary to avoid extremes of\ntruthfulness?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not necessary, sir,\u201d said one youngster, \u201cand the man who says\nthat it is so is a scoundrel.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome here, my boy, and hold out your hand.\u201d When he had done so, Mr.\nTurvey gave him two sharp cuts with a cane. \u201cThere now, go down to the\nbottom of the class and try not to be so extremely truthful in future.\u201d\nThen, turning to my father, he said, \u201cI hate caning them, but it is the\nonly way to teach them. I really do believe that boy will know better\nthan to say what he thinks another time.\u201d\n\nHe repeated his question to the class, and the head-boy answered,\n\u201cBecause, sir, extremes meet, and extreme truth will be mixed with\nextreme falsehood.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite right, my boy. Truth is like religion; it has only two\nenemies--the too much and the too little. Your answer is more\nsatisfactory than some of your recent conduct had led me to expect.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, sir, you punished me only three weeks ago for telling you a lie.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes; why, so I did; I had forgotten. But then you overdid it. Still\nit was a step in the right direction.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now, my boy,\u201d he said to a very frank and ingenuous youth about half\nway up the class, \u201cand how is truth best reached?\u201d\n\n\u201cThrough the falling out of thieves, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so. Then it will be necessary that the more earnest, careful,\npatient, self-sacrificing, enquirers after truth should have a good deal\nof the thief about them, though they are very honest people at the same\ntime. Now what does the man\u201d (who on enquiry my father found to be none\nother than Mr. Turvey himself) \u201csay about honesty?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe says, sir, that honesty does not consist in never stealing, but in\nknowing how and where it will be safe to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember,\u201d said Mr. Turvey to my father, \u201chow necessary it is that we\nshould have a plentiful supply of thieves, if honest men are ever to come\nby their own.\u201d\n\nHe spoke with the utmost gravity, evidently quite easy in his mind that\nhis scheme was the only one by which truth could be successfully\nattained.\n\n\u201cBut pray let me have any criticism you may feel inclined to make.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have none,\u201d said my father. \u201cYour system commends itself to common\nsense; it is the one adopted in the law courts, and it lies at the very\nfoundation of party government. If your academic bodies can supply the\ncountry with a sufficient number of thieves--which I have no doubt they\ncan--there seems no limit to the amount of truth that may be attained.\nIf, however, I may suggest the only difficulty that occurs to me, it is\nthat academic thieves shew no great alacrity in falling out, but incline\nrather to back each other up through thick and thin.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh, yes,\u201d said Mr. Turvey, \u201cthere is that difficulty; nevertheless\ncircumstances from time to time arise to get them by the ears in spite of\nthemselves. But from whatever point of view you may look at the\nquestion, it is obviously better to aim at imperfection than perfection;\nfor if we aim steadily at imperfection, we shall probably get it within a\nreasonable time, whereas to the end of our days we should never reach\nperfection. Moreover, from a worldly point of view, there is no mistake\nso great as that of being always right.\u201d He then turned to his class and\nsaid--\n\n\u201cAnd now tell me what did the Sunchild tell us about God and Mammon?\u201d\n\nThe head-boy answered: \u201cHe said that we must serve both, for no man can\nserve God well and truly who does not serve Mammon a little also; and no\nman can serve Mammon effectually unless he serve God largely at the same\ntime.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat were his words?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe said, \u2018Cursed be they that say, \u201cThou shalt not serve God and Mammon,\nfor it is the whole duty of man to know how to adjust the conflicting\nclaims of these two deities.\u201d\u2019\u201d\n\nHere my father interposed. \u201cI knew the Sunchild; and I more than once\nheard him speak of God and Mammon. He never varied the form of the words\nhe used, which were to the effect that a man must serve either God or\nMammon, but that he could not serve both.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d said Mr. Turvey, \u201cthat no doubt was his exoteric teaching, but\nProfessors Hanky and Panky have assured me most solemnly that his\nesoteric teaching was as I have given it. By the way, these gentlemen\nare both, I understand, at Sunch\u2019ston, and I think it quite likely that I\nshall have a visit from them this afternoon. If you do not know them I\nshould have great pleasure in introducing you to them; I was at\nBridgeford with both of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have had the pleasure of meeting them already,\u201d said my father, \u201cand\nas you are by no means certain that they will come, I will ask you to let\nme thank you for all that you have been good enough to shew me, and bid\nyou good-afternoon. I have a rather pressing engagement--\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear sir, you must please give me five minutes more. I shall examine\nthe boys in the Musical Bank Catechism.\u201d He pointed to one of them and\nsaid, \u201cRepeat your duty towards your neighbour.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy duty towards my neighbour,\u201d said the boy, \u201cis to be quite sure that\nhe is not likely to borrow money of me before I let him speak to me at\nall, and then to have as little to do with him as--\u201d\n\nAt this point there was a loud ring at the door bell. \u201cHanky and Panky\ncome to see me, no doubt,\u201d said Mr. Turvey. \u201cI do hope it is so. You\nmust stay and see them.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear sir,\u201d said my father, putting his handkerchief up to his face,\n\u201cI am taken suddenly unwell and must positively leave you.\u201d He said this\nin so peremptory a tone that Mr. Turvey had to yield. My father held his\nhandkerchief to his face as he went through the passage and hall, but\nwhen the servant opened the door he took it down, for there was no Hanky\nor Panky--no one, in fact, but a poor, wizened old man who had come, as\nhe did every other Saturday afternoon, to wind up the Deformatory clocks.\n\nNevertheless, he had been scared, and was in a very wicked-fleeth-when-no-\nman-pursueth frame of mind. He went to his inn, and shut himself up in\nhis room for some time, taking notes of all that had happened to him in\nthe last three days. But even at his inn he no longer felt safe. How\ndid he know but that Hanky and Panky might have driven over from\nSunch\u2019ston to see Mr. Turvey, and might put up at this very house? or\nthey might even be going to spend the night here. He did not venture out\nof his room till after seven by which time he had made rough notes of as\nmuch of the foregoing chapters as had come to his knowledge so far. Much\nof what I have told as nearly as I could in the order in which it\nhappened, he did not learn till later. After giving the merest outline\nof his interview with Mr. Turvey, he wrote a note as follows:--\u201cI suppose\nI must have held forth about the greatest happiness of the greatest\nnumber, but I had quite forgotten it, though I remember repeatedly\nquoting my favourite proverb, \u2018Every man for himself, and the devil take\nthe hindmost.\u2019 To this they have paid no attention.\u201d\n\nBy seven his panic about Hanky and Panky ended, for if they had not come\nby this time, they were not likely to do so. Not knowing that they were\nstaying at the Mayor\u2019s, he had rather settled it that they would now\nstroll up to the place where they had left their hoard and bring it down\nas soon as night had fallen. And it is quite possible that they might\nhave found some excuse for doing this, when dinner was over, if their\nhostess had not undesignedly hindered them by telling them about the\nSunchild. When the conversation recorded in the preceding chapter was\nover, it was too late for them to make any plausible excuse for leaving\nthe house; we may be sure, therefore, that much more had been said than\nYram and George were able to remember and report to my father.\n\nAfter another stroll about Fairmead, during which he saw nothing but what\non a larger scale he had already seen at Sunch\u2019ston, he returned to his\ninn at about half-past eight, and ordered supper in a public room that\ncorresponded with the coffee-room of an English hotel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV: MY FATHER MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. BALMY, AND WALKS WITH\nHIM NEXT DAY TO SUNCH\u2019STON\n\n\nUp to this point, though he had seen enough to shew him the main drift of\nthe great changes that had taken place in Erewhonian opinions, my father\nhad not been able to glean much about the history of the transformation.\nHe could see that it had all grown out of the supposed miracle of his\nballoon ascent, and he could understand that the ignorant masses had been\nso astounded by an event so contrary to all their experience, that their\nfaith in experience was utterly routed and demoralised. If a man and a\nwoman might rise from the earth and disappear into the sky, what else\nmight not happen? If they had been wrong in thinking such a thing\nimpossible, in how much else might they not be mistaken also? The ground\nwas shaken under their very feet.\n\nIt was not as though the thing had been done in a corner. Hundreds of\npeople had seen the ascent; and even if only a small number had been\npresent, the disappearance of the balloon, of my mother, and of my father\nhimself, would have confirmed their story. My father, then, could\nunderstand that a single incontrovertible miracle of the first magnitude\nshould uproot the hedges of caution in the minds of the common people,\nbut he could not understand how such men as Hanky and Panky, who\nevidently did not believe that there had been any miracle at all, had\nbeen led to throw themselves so energetically into a movement so\nsubversive of all their traditions, when, as it seemed to him, if they\nhad held out they might have pricked the balloon bubble easily enough,\nand maintained everything _in statu quo_.\n\nHow, again, had they converted the King--if they had converted him? The\nQueen had had full knowledge of all the preparations for the ascent. The\nKing had had everything explained to him. The workmen and workwomen who\nhad made the balloon and the gas could testify that none but natural\nmeans had been made use of--means which, if again employed any number of\ntimes, would effect a like result. How could it be that when the means\nof resistance were so ample and so easy, the movement should nevertheless\nhave been irresistible? For had it not been irresistible, was it to be\nbelieved that astute men like Hanky and Panky would have let themselves\nbe drawn into it?\n\nWhat then had been its inner history? My father had so fully determined\nto make his way back on the following evening, that he saw no chance of\ngetting to know the facts--unless, indeed, he should be able to learn\nsomething from Hanky\u2019s sermon; he was therefore not sorry to find an\nelderly gentleman of grave but kindly aspect seated opposite to him when\nhe sat down to supper.\n\nThe expression on this man\u2019s face was much like that of the early\nChristians as shewn in the S. Giovanni Laterano bas-reliefs at Rome, and\nagain, though less aggressively self-confident, like that on the faces of\nthose who have joined the Salvation Army. If he had been in England, my\nfather would have set him down as a Swedenborgian; this being impossible,\nhe could only note that the stranger bowed his head, evidently saying a\nshort grace before he began to eat, as my father had always done when he\nwas in Erewhon before. I will not say that my father had never omitted\nto say grace during the whole of the last twenty years, but he said it\nnow, and unfortunately forgetting himself, he said it in the English\nlanguage, not loud, but nevertheless audibly.\n\nMy father was alarmed at what he had done, but there was no need, for the\nstranger immediately said, \u201cI hear, sir, that you have the gift of\ntongues. The Sunchild often mentioned it to us, as having been\nvouchsafed long since to certain of the people, to whom, for our\nlearning, he saw fit to feign that he belonged. He thus foreshadowed\nprophetically its manifestation also among ourselves. All which,\nhowever, you must know as well as I do. Can you interpret?\u201d\n\nMy father was much shocked, but he remembered having frequently spoken of\nthe power of speaking in unknown tongues which was possessed by many of\nthe early Christians, and he also remembered that in times of high\nreligious enthusiasm this power had repeatedly been imparted, or supposed\nto be imparted, to devout believers in the middle ages. It grated upon\nhim to deceive one who was so obviously sincere, but to avoid immediate\ndiscomfiture he fell in with what the stranger had said.\n\n\u201cAlas! sir,\u201d said he, \u201cthat rarer and more precious gift has been\nwithheld from me; nor can I speak in an unknown tongue, unless as it is\nborne in upon me at the moment. I could not even repeat the words that\nhave just fallen from me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d replied the stranger, \u201cis almost invariably the case. These\nilluminations of the spirit are beyond human control. You spoke in so\nlow a tone that I cannot interpret what you have just said, but should\nyou receive a second inspiration later, I shall doubtless be able to\ninterpret it for you. I have been singularly gifted in this respect--more\nso, perhaps, than any other interpreter in Erewhon.\u201d\n\nMy father mentally vowed that no second inspiration should be vouchsafed\nto him, but presently remembering how anxious he was for information on\nthe points touched upon at the beginning of this chapter, and seeing that\nfortune had sent him the kind of man who would be able to enlighten him,\nhe changed his mind; nothing, he reflected, would be more likely to make\nthe stranger talk freely with him, than the affording him an opportunity\nfor showing off his skill as an interpreter.\n\nSomething, therefore, he would say, but what? No one could talk more\nfreely when the train of his thoughts, or the conversation of others,\ngave him his cue, but when told to say an unattached \u201csomething,\u201d he\ncould not even think of \u201cHow do you do this morning? it is a very fine\nday;\u201d and the more he cudgelled his brains for \u201csomething,\u201d the more they\ngave no response. He could not even converse further with the stranger\nbeyond plain \u201cyes\u201d and \u201cno\u201d; so he went on with his supper, and in\nthinking of what he was eating and drinking for the moment forgot to\nransack his brain. No sooner had he left off ransacking it, than it\nsuggested something--not, indeed, a very brilliant something, but still\nsomething. On having grasped it, he laid down his knife and fork, and\nwith the air of one distraught he said--\n\n   \u201cMy name is Norval, on the Grampian Hills\n   My father feeds his flock--a frugal swain.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heard you,\u201d exclaimed the stranger, \u201cand I can interpret every word of\nwhat you have said, but it would not become me to do so, for you have\nconveyed to me a message more comforting than I can bring myself to\nrepeat even to him who has conveyed it.\u201d\n\nHaving said this he bowed his head, and remained for some time wrapped in\nmeditation. My father kept a respectful silence, but after a little time\nhe ventured to say in a low tone, how glad he was to have been the medium\nthrough whom a comforting assurance had been conveyed. Presently, on\nfinding himself encouraged to renew the conversation, he threw out a\ndeferential feeler as to the causes that might have induced Mr. Balmy to\ncome to Fairmead. \u201cPerhaps,\u201d he said, \u201cyou, like myself, have come to\nthese parts in order to see the dedication of the new temple; I could not\nget a lodging in Sunch\u2019ston, so I walked down here this morning.\u201d\n\nThis, it seemed, had been Mr. Balmy\u2019s own case, except that he had not\nyet been to Sunch\u2019ston. Having heard that it was full to overflowing, he\nhad determined to pass the night at Fairmead, and walk over in the\nmorning--starting soon after seven, so as to arrive in good time for the\ndedication ceremony. When my father heard this, he proposed that they\nshould walk together, to which Mr. Balmy gladly consented; it was\ntherefore arranged that they should go to bed early, breakfast soon after\nsix, and then walk to Sunch\u2019ston. My father then went to his own room,\nwhere he again smoked a surreptitious pipe up the chimney.\n\nNext morning the two men breakfasted together, and set out as the clock\nwas striking seven. The day was lovely beyond the power of words, and\nstill fresh--for Fairmead was some 2500 feet above the sea, and the sun\ndid not get above the mountains that overhung it on the east side, till\nafter eight o\u2019clock. Many persons were also starting for Sunch\u2019ston, and\nthere was a procession got up by the Musical Bank Managers of the town,\nwho walked in it, robed in rich dresses of scarlet and white embroidered\nwith much gold thread. There was a banner displaying an open chariot in\nwhich the Sunchild and his bride were seated, beaming with smiles, and in\nattitudes suggesting that they were bowing to people who were below them.\nThe chariot was, of course, drawn by the four black and white horses of\nwhich the reader has already heard, and the balloon had been ignored.\nReaders of my father\u2019s book will perhaps remember that my mother was not\nseen at all--she was smuggled into the car of the balloon along with\nsundry rugs, under which she lay concealed till the balloon had left the\nearth. All this went for nothing. It has been said that though God\ncannot alter the past, historians can; it is perhaps because they can be\nuseful to Him in this respect that He tolerates their existence.\nPainters, my father now realised, can do all that historians can, with\neven greater effect.\n\nWomen headed the procession--the younger ones dressed in white, with\nveils and chaplets of roses, blue cornflower, and pheasant\u2019s eye\nNarcissus, while the older women were more soberly attired. The Bank\nManagers and the banner headed the men, who were mostly peasants, but\namong them were a few who seemed to be of higher rank, and these, for the\nmost part, though by no means all of them, wore their clothes reversed--as\nI have forgotten to say was done also by Mr. Balmy. Both men and women\njoined in singing a litany the words of which my father could not catch;\nthe tune was one he had been used to play on his apology for a flute when\nhe was in prison, being, in fact, none other than \u201cHome, Sweet Home.\u201d\nThere was no harmony; they never got beyond the first four bars, but\nthese they must have repeated, my father thought, at least a hundred\ntimes between Fairmead and Sunch\u2019ston. \u201cWell,\u201d said he to himself,\n\u201chowever little else I may have taught them, I at any rate gave them the\ndiatonic scale.\u201d\n\nHe now set himself to exploit his fellow-traveller, for they soon got\npast the procession.\n\n\u201cThe greatest miracle,\u201d said he, \u201cin connection with this whole matter,\nhas been--so at least it seems to me--not the ascent of the Sunchild with\nhis bride, but the readiness with which the people generally acknowledged\nits miraculous character. I was one of those that witnessed the ascent,\nbut I saw no signs that the crowd appreciated its significance. They\nwere astounded, but they did not fall down and worship.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh,\u201d said the other, \u201cbut you forget the long drought and the rain that\nthe Sunchild immediately prevailed on the air-god to send us. He had\nannounced himself as about to procure it for us; it was on this ground\nthat the King assented to the preparation of those material means that\nwere necessary before the horses of the sun could attach themselves to\nthe chariot into which the balloon was immediately transformed. Those\nhorses might not be defiled by contact with this gross earth. I too\nwitnessed the ascent; at the moment, I grant you, I saw neither chariot\nnor horses, and almost all those present shared my own temporary\nblindness; the whole action from the moment when the balloon left the\nearth, moved so rapidly, that we were flustered, and hardly knew what it\nwas that we were really seeing. It was not till two or three years later\nthat I found the scene presenting itself to my soul\u2019s imaginary sight in\nthe full splendour which was no doubt witnessed, but not apprehended, by\nmy bodily vision.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d said my father, \u201cyou confirm an opinion that I have long\nheld.--Nothing is so misleading as the testimony of eye-witnesses.\u201d\n\n\u201cA spiritual enlightenment from within,\u201d returned Mr. Balmy, \u201cis more to\nbe relied on than any merely physical affluence from external objects.\nNow, when I shut my eyes, I see the balloon ascend a little way, but\nalmost immediately the heavens open, the horses descend, the balloon is\ntransformed, and the glorious pageant careers onward till it vanishes\ninto the heaven of heavens. Hundreds with whom I have conversed assure\nme that their experience has been the same as mine. Has yours been\ndifferent?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no, not at all; but I always see some storks circling round the\nballoon before I see any horses.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow strange! I have heard others also say that they saw the storks you\nmention; but let me do my utmost I cannot force them into my mental image\nof the scene. This shows, as you were saying just now, how incomplete\nthe testimony of an eye-witness often is. It is quite possible that the\nstorks were there, but the horses and the chariot have impressed\nthemselves more vividly on my mind than anything else has.\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so; and I am not without hope that even at this late hour some\nfurther details may yet be revealed to us.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is possible, but we should be as cautious in accepting any fresh\ndetails as in rejecting them. Should some heresy obtain wide acceptance,\nvisions will perhaps be granted to us that may be useful in refuting it,\nbut otherwise I expect nothing more.\u201d\n\n\u201cNeither do I, but I have heard people say that inasmuch as the Sunchild\nsaid he was going to interview the air-god in order to send us rain, he\nwas more probably son to the air-god than to the sun. Now here is a\nheresy which--\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my dear sir,\u201d said Mr. Balmy, interrupting him with great warmth,\n\u201che spoke of his father in heaven as endowed with attributes far\nexceeding any that can be conceivably ascribed to the air-god. The power\nof the air-god does not extend beyond our own atmosphere.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray believe me,\u201d said my father, who saw by the ecstatic gleam in his\ncompanion\u2019s eye that there was nothing to be done but to agree with him,\n\u201cthat I accept--\u201d\n\n\u201cHear me to the end,\u201d replied Mr. Balmy. \u201cWho ever heard the Sunchild\nclaim relationship with the air-god? He could command the air-god, and\nevidently did so, halting no doubt for this beneficent purpose on his\njourney towards his ultimate destination. Can we suppose that the air-\ngod, who had evidently intended withholding the rain from us for an\nindefinite period, should have so immediately relinquished his designs\nagainst us at the intervention of any less exalted personage than the\nsun\u2019s own offspring? Impossible!\u201d\n\n\u201cI quite agree with you,\u201d exclaimed my father, \u201cit is out of the--\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me finish what I have to say. When the rain came so copiously for\ndays, even those who had not seen the miraculous ascent found its\nconsequences come so directly home to them, that they had no difficulty\nin accepting the report of others. There was not a farmer or cottager in\nthe land but heaved a sigh of relief at rescue from impending ruin, and\nthey all knew it was the Sunchild who had promised the King that he would\nmake the air-god send it. So abundantly, you will remember, did it come,\nthat we had to pray to him to stop it, which in his own good time he was\npleased to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cI remember,\u201d said my father, who was at last able to edge in a word,\n\u201cthat it nearly flooded me out of house and home. And yet, in spite of\nall this, I hear that there are many at Bridgeford who are still hardened\nunbelievers.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! you speak too truly. Bridgeford and the Musical Banks for the\nfirst three years fought tooth and nail to blind those whom it was their\nfirst duty to enlighten. I was a Professor of the hypothetical language,\nand you may perhaps remember how I was driven from my chair on account of\nthe fearlessness with which I expounded the deeper mysteries of\nSunchildism.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I remember well how cruelly--\u201d but my father was not allowed to get\nbeyond \u201ccruelly.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was I who explained why the Sunchild had represented himself as\nbelonging to a people in many respects analogous to our own, when no such\npeople can have existed. It was I who detected that the supposed nation\nspoken of by the Sunchild was an invention designed in order to give us\ninstruction by the light of which we might more easily remodel our\ninstitutions. I have sometimes thought that my gift of interpretation\nwas vouchsafed to me in recognition of the humble services that I was\nhereby allowed to render. By the way, you have received no illumination\nthis morning, have you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI never do, sir, when I am in the company of one whose conversation I\nfind supremely interesting. But you were telling me about Bridgeford: I\nlive hundreds of miles from Bridgeford, and have never understood the\nsuddenness, and completeness, with which men like Professors Hanky and\nPanky and Dr. Downie changed front. Do they believe as you and I do, or\ndid they merely go with the times? I spent a couple of hours with Hanky\nand Panky only two evenings ago, and was not so much impressed as I could\nhave wished with the depth of their religious fervour.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are sincere now--more especially Hanky--but I cannot think I am\njudging them harshly, if I say that they were not so at first. Even now,\nI fear, that they are more carnally than spiritually minded. See how\nthey have fought for the aggrandisement of their own order. It is mainly\ntheir doing that the Musical Banks have usurped the spiritual authority\nformerly exercised by the straighteners.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut the straighteners,\u201d said my father, \u201ccould not co-exist with\nSunchildism, and it is hard to see how the claims of the Banks can be\nreasonably gainsaid.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps; and after all the Banks are our main bulwark against the evils\nthat I fear will follow from the repeal of the laws against machinery.\nThis has already led to the development of a materialism which minimizes\nthe miraculous element in the Sunchild\u2019s ascent, as our own people\nminimize the material means that were the necessary prologue to the\nmiraculous.\u201d\n\nThus did they converse; but I will not pursue their conversation further.\nIt will be enough to say that in further floods of talk Mr. Balmy\nconfirmed what George had said about the Banks having lost their hold\nupon the masses. That hold was weak even in the time of my father\u2019s\nfirst visit; but when the people saw the hostility of the Banks to a\nmovement which far the greater number of them accepted, it seemed as\nthough both Bridgeford and the Banks were doomed, for Bridgeford was\nheart and soul with the Banks. Hanky, it appeared, though under thirty,\nand not yet a Professor, grasped the situation, and saw that Bridgeford\nmust either move with the times, or go. He consulted some of the most\nsagacious Heads of Houses and Professors, with the result that a\ncommittee of enquiry was appointed, which in due course reported that the\nevidence for the Sunchild\u2019s having been the only child of the sun was\nconclusive. It was about this time--that is to say some three years\nafter his ascent--that \u201cHiggsism,\u201d as it had been hitherto called, became\n\u201cSunchildism,\u201d and \u201cHiggs\u201d the \u201cSunchild.\u201d\n\nMy father also learned the King\u2019s fury at his escape (for he would call\nit nothing else) with my mother. This was so great that though he had\nhitherto been, and had ever since proved himself to be, a humane ruler,\nhe ordered the instant execution of all who had been concerned in making\neither the gas or the balloon; and his cruel orders were carried out\nwithin a couple of hours. At the same time he ordered the destruction by\nfire of the Queen\u2019s workshops, and of all remnants of any materials used\nin making the balloon. It is said the Queen was so much grieved and\noutraged (for it was her doing that the material ground-work, so to\nspeak, had been provided for the miracle) that she wept night and day\nwithout ceasing three whole months, and never again allowed her husband\nto embrace her, till he had also embraced Sunchildism.\n\nWhen the rain came, public indignation at the King\u2019s action was raised\nalmost to revolution pitch, and the King was frightened at once by the\narrival of the promised downfall and the displeasure of his subjects. But\nhe still held out, and it was only after concessions on the part of the\nBridgeford committee, that he at last consented to the absorption of\nSunchildism into the Musical Bank system, and to its establishment as the\nreligion of the country. The far-reaching changes in Erewhonian\ninstitutions with which the reader is already acquainted followed as a\nmatter of course.\n\n\u201cI know the difficulty,\u201d said my father presently, \u201cwith which the King\nwas persuaded to allow the way in which the Sunchild\u2019s dress should be\nworn to be a matter of opinion, not dogma. I see we have adopted\ndifferent fashions. Have you any decided opinions upon the subject?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have; but I will ask you not to press me for them. Let this matter\nremain as the King has left it.\u201d\n\nMy father thought that he might now venture on a shot. So he said, \u201cI\nhave always understood, too, that the King forced the repeal of the laws\nagainst machinery on the Bridgeford committee, as another condition of\nhis assent?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly. He insisted on this, partly to gratify the Queen, who had\nnot yet forgiven him, and who had set her heart on having a watch, and\npartly because he expected that a development of the country\u2019s resources,\nin consequence of a freer use of machinery, would bring more money into\nhis exchequer. Bridgeford fought hard and wisely here, but they had\ngained so much by the Musical Bank Managers being recognised as the\nauthorised exponents of Sunchildism, that they thought it wise to\nyield--apparently with a good grace--and thus gild the pill which his\nMajesty was about to swallow. But even then they feared the consequences\nthat are already beginning to appear, all which, if I mistake not, will\nassume far more serious proportions in the future.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said my father suddenly, \u201cwe are coming to another procession, and\nthey have got some banners, let us walk a little quicker and overtake\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cHorrible!\u201d replied Mr. Balmy fiercely. \u201cYou must be short-sighted, or\nyou could never have called my attention to it. Let us get it behind us\nas fast as possible, and not so much as look at it.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, yes,\u201d said my father, \u201cit is indeed horrible, I had not seen\nwhat it was.\u201d\n\nHe had not the faintest idea what the matter was, but he let Mr. Balmy\nwalk a little ahead of him, so that he could see the banners, the most\nimportant of which he found to display a balloon pure and simple, with\none figure in the car. True, at the top of the banner there was a smudge\nwhich might be taken for a little chariot, and some very little horses,\nbut the balloon was the only thing insisted on. As for the procession,\nit consisted entirely of men, whom a smaller banner announced to be\nworkmen from the Fairmead iron and steel works. There was a third\nbanner, which said, \u201cScience as well as Sunchildism.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV: THE TEMPLE IS DEDICATED TO MY FATHER, AND CERTAIN EXTRACTS\nARE READ FROM HIS SUPPOSED SAYINGS\n\n\n\u201cIt is enough to break one\u2019s heart,\u201d said Mr. Balmy when he had\noutstripped the procession, and my father was again beside him. \u201c\u2018As\nwell as,\u2019 indeed! We know what that means. Wherever there is a factory\nthere is a hot-bed of unbelief. \u2018As well as\u2019! Why it is a defiance.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, I wonder,\u201d said my father innocently, \u201cmust the Sunchild\u2019s\nfeelings be, as he looks down on this procession. For there can be\nlittle doubt that he is doing so.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere can be no doubt at all,\u201d replied Mr. Balmy, \u201cthat he is taking\nnote of it, and of all else that is happening this day in Erewhon. Heaven\ngrant that he be not so angered as to chastise the innocent as well as\nthe guilty.\u201d\n\n\u201cI doubt,\u201d said my father, \u201chis being so angry even with this procession,\nas you think he is.\u201d\n\nHere, fearing an outburst of indignation, he found an excuse for rapidly\nchanging the conversation. Moreover he was angry with himself for\nplaying upon this poor good creature. He had not done so of malice\nprepense; he had begun to deceive him, because he believed himself to be\nin danger if he spoke the truth; and though he knew the part to be an\nunworthy one, he could not escape from continuing to play it, if he was\nto discover things that he was not likely to discover otherwise.\n\nOften, however, he had checked himself. It had been on the tip of his\ntongue to be illuminated with the words,\n\n   Sukoh and Sukop were two pretty men,\n   They lay in bed till the clock struck ten,\n\nand to follow it up with,\n\n   Now with the drops of this most Yknarc time\n   My love looks fresh,\n\nin order to see how Mr. Balmy would interpret the assertion here made\nabout the Professors, and what statement he would connect with his own\nErewhonian name; but he had restrained himself.\n\nThe more he saw, and the more he heard, the more shocked he was at the\nmischief he had done. See how he had unsettled the little mind this\npoor, dear, good gentleman had ever had, till he was now a mere slave to\npreconception. And how many more had he not in like manner brought to\nthe verge of idiocy? How many again had he not made more corrupt than\nthey were before, even though he had not deceived them--as for example,\nHanky and Panky. And the young? how could such a lie as that a chariot\nand four horses came down out of the clouds enter seriously into the life\nof any one, without distorting his mental vision, if not ruining it?\n\nAnd yet, the more he reflected, the more he also saw that he could do no\ngood by saying who he was. Matters had gone so far that though he spoke\nwith the tongues of men and angels he would not be listened to; and even\nif he were, it might easily prove that he had added harm to that which he\nhad done already. No. As soon as he had heard Hanky\u2019s sermon, he would\nbegin to work his way back, and if the Professors had not yet removed\ntheir purchase, he would recover it; but he would pin a bag containing\nabout five pounds worth of nuggets on to the tree in which they had\nhidden it, and, if possible, he would find some way of sending the rest\nto George.\n\nHe let Mr. Balmy continue talking, glad that this gentleman required\nlittle more than monosyllabic answers, and still more glad, in spite of\nsome agitation, to see that they were now nearing Sunch\u2019ston, towards\nwhich a great concourse of people was hurrying from Clearwater, and more\ndistant towns on the main road. Many whole families were coming,--the\nfathers and mothers carrying the smaller children, and also their own\nshoes and stockings, which they would put on when nearing the town. Most\nof the pilgrims brought provisions with them. All wore European\ncostumes, but only a few of them wore it reversed, and these were almost\ninvariably of higher social status than the great body of the people, who\nwere mainly peasants.\n\nWhen they reached the town, my father was relieved at finding that Mr.\nBalmy had friends on whom he wished to call before going to the temple.\nHe asked my father to come with him, but my father said that he too had\nfriends, and would leave him for the present, while hoping to meet him\nagain later in the day. The two, therefore, shook hands with great\neffusion, and went their several ways. My father\u2019s way took him first\ninto a confectioner\u2019s shop, where he bought a couple of Sunchild buns,\nwhich he put into his pocket, and refreshed himself with a bottle of\nSunchild cordial and water. All shops except those dealing in\nrefreshments were closed, and the town was gaily decorated with flags and\nflowers, often festooned into words or emblems proper for the occasion.\n\nMy father, it being now a quarter to eleven, made his way towards the\ntemple, and his heart was clouded with care as he walked along. Not only\nwas his heart clouded, but his brain also was oppressed, and he reeled so\nmuch on leaving the confectioner\u2019s shop, that he had to catch hold of\nsome railings till the faintness and giddiness left him. He knew the\nfeeling to be the same as what he had felt on the Friday evening, but he\nhad no idea of the cause, and as soon as the giddiness left him he\nthought there was nothing the matter with him.\n\nTurning down a side street that led into the main square of the town, he\nfound himself opposite the south end of the temple, with its two lofty\ntowers that flanked the richly decorated main entrance. I will not\nattempt to describe the architecture, for my father could give me little\ninformation on this point. He only saw the south front for two or three\nminutes, and was not impressed by it, save in so far as it was richly\nornamented--evidently at great expense--and very large. Even if he had\nhad a longer look, I doubt whether I should have got more out of him, for\nhe knew nothing of architecture, and I fear his test whether a building\nwas good or bad, was whether it looked old and weather-beaten or no. No\nmatter what a building was, if it was three or four hundred years old he\nliked it, whereas, if it was new, he would look to nothing but whether it\nkept the rain out. Indeed I have heard him say that the mediaeval\nsculpture on some of our great cathedrals often only pleases us because\ntime and weather have set their seals upon it, and that if we could see\nit as it was when it left the mason\u2019s hands, we should find it no better\nthan much that is now turned out in the Euston Road.\n\nThe ground plan here given will help the reader to understand the few\nfollowing pages more easily.\n\n                +--------------------+\n  N / a \\\n W+E / b \\------------+\n  S / G H \\ |\n            | C | N |\n+-----------+---------------------------+-----------+------+\n| ------------------- I |\n| ------------------- |\n| ------------------- |\n| o\u2019 o\u2019 |\n| |\n| E ||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||| F |\n| ||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||| |\n| |\n| e A o\u2019 B C o\u2019 D | f\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- o\u2019 --- --- o\u2019 --- |\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- --- --- --- |\n| --- o\u2019 --- --- o\u2019 --- |\n| |\n| |\n| |\n| o\u2019 o\u2019 |\n| |\n| |\n| g | h\n| o\u2019 o\u2019 |\n+-----------+--------------------------------+-------------+\n| |--------------------------------| |\n| |-------------M------------------| |\n| K |--------------------------------| L |\n| |--------------------------------| |\n| |--------------------------------| |\n| | | |\n+-----------+ +-------------+\n\na. Table with cashier\u2019s seat on either side, and alms-box in front. The\npicture is exhibited on a scaffolding behind it.\n\nb. The reliquary.\n\nc. The President\u2019s chair.\n\nd. Pulpit and lectern.\n\ne. }\nf. } Side doors.\ng. }\nh. }\n\ni. Yram\u2019s seat.\n\nk. Seats of George and the Sunchild.\n\no\u2019 Pillars.\n\nA, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, blocks of seats.\n\nI. Steps leading from the apse to the nave.\n\nK and L. Towers.\n\nM. Steps and main entrance.\n\nN. Robing-room.\n\nThe building was led up to by a flight of steps (M), and on entering it\nmy father found it to consist of a spacious nave, with two aisles and an\napse which was raised some three feet above the nave and aisles. There\nwere no transepts. In the apse there was the table (a), with the two\nbowls of Musical Bank money mentioned on an earlier page, as also the\nalms-box in front of it.\n\nAt some little distance in front of the table stood the President\u2019s chair\n(c), or I might almost call it throne. It was so placed that his back\nwould be turned towards the table, which fact again shews that the table\nwas not regarded as having any greater sanctity than the rest of the\ntemple.\n\nBehind the table, the picture already spoken of was raised aloft. There\nwas no balloon; some clouds that hung about the lower part of the chariot\nserved to conceal the fact that the painter was uncertain whether it\nought to have wheels or no. The horses were without driver, and my\nfather thought that some one ought to have had them in hand, for they\nwere in far too excited a state to be left safely to themselves. They\nhad hardly any harness, but what little there was was enriched with gold\nbosses. My mother was in Erewhonian costume, my father in European, but\nhe wore his clothes reversed. Both he and my mother seemed to be bowing\ngraciously to an unseen crowd beneath them, and in the distance, near the\nbottom of the picture, was a fairly accurate representation of the\nSunch\u2019ston new temple. High up, on the right hand, was a disc, raised\nand gilt, to represent the sun; on it, in low relief, there was an\nindication of a gorgeous palace, in which, no doubt, the sun was supposed\nto live; though how they made it all out my father could not conceive.\n\nOn the right of the table there was a reliquary (b) of glass, much\nadorned with gold, or more probably gilding, for gold was so scarce in\nErewhon that gilding would be as expensive as a thin plate of gold would\nbe in Europe: but there is no knowing. The reliquary was attached to a\nportable stand some five feet high, and inside it was the relic already\nreferred to. The crowd was so great that my father could not get near\nenough to see what it contained, but I may say here, that when, two days\nlater, circumstances compelled him to have a close look at it, he saw\nthat it consisted of about a dozen fine coprolites, deposited by some\nantediluvian creature or creatures, which, whatever else they may have\nbeen, were certainly not horses.\n\nIn the apse there were a few cross benches (G and H) on either side, with\nan open space between them, which was partly occupied by the President\u2019s\nseat already mentioned. Those on the right, as one looked towards the\napse, were for the Managers and Cashiers of the Bank, while those on the\nleft were for their wives and daughters.\n\nIn the centre of the nave, only a few feet in front of the steps leading\nto the apse, was a handsome pulpit and lectern (d). The pulpit was\nraised some feet above the ground, and was so roomy that the preacher\ncould walk about in it. On either side of it there were cross benches\nwith backs (E and F); those on the right were reserved for the Mayor,\ncivic functionaries, and distinguished visitors, while those on the left\nwere for their wives and daughters.\n\nBenches with backs (A, B, C, D) were placed about half-way down both nave\nand aisles--those in the nave being divided so as to allow a free passage\nbetween them. The rest of the temple was open space, about which people\nmight walk at their will. There were side doors (_e_, _j_, and _f_, _h_)\nat the upper and lower end of each aisle. Over the main entrance was a\ngallery in which singers were placed.\n\nAs my father was worming his way among the crowd, which was now very\ndense, he was startled at finding himself tapped lightly on the shoulder,\nand turning round in alarm was confronted by the beaming face of George.\n\n\u201cHow do you do, Professor Panky?\u201d said the youth--who had decided thus to\naddress him. \u201cWhat are you doing here among the common people? Why have\nyou not taken your place in one of the seats reserved for our\ndistinguished visitors? I am afraid they must be all full by this time,\nbut I will see what I can do for you. Come with me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you,\u201d said my father. His heart beat so fast that this was all he\ncould say, and he followed meek as a lamb.\n\nWith some difficulty the two made their way to the right-hand corner\nseats of block C, for every seat in the reserved block was taken. The\nplaces which George wanted for my father and for himself were already\noccupied by two young men of about eighteen and nineteen, both of them\nwell-grown, and of prepossessing appearance. My father saw by the\ntruncheons they carried that they were special constables, but he took no\nnotice of this, for there were many others scattered about the crowd.\nGeorge whispered a few words to one of them, and to my father\u2019s surprise\nthey both gave up their seats, which appear on the plan as (_k_).\n\nIt afterwards transpired that these two young men were George\u2019s brothers,\nwho by his desire had taken the seats some hours ago, for it was here\nthat George had determined to place himself and my father if he could\nfind him. He chose these places because they would be near enough to let\nhis mother (who was at i, in the middle of the front row of block E, to\nthe left of the pulpit) see my father without being so near as to\nembarrass him; he could also see and be seen by Hanky, and hear every\nword of his sermon; but perhaps his chief reason had been the fact that\nthey were not far from the side-door at the upper end of the right-hand\naisle, while there was no barrier to interrupt rapid egress should this\nprove necessary.\n\nIt was now high time that they should sit down, which they accordingly\ndid. George sat at the end of the bench, and thus had my father on his\nleft. My father was rather uncomfortable at seeing the young men whom\nthey had turned out, standing against a column close by, but George said\nthat this was how it was to be, and there was nothing to be done but to\nsubmit. The young men seemed quite happy, which puzzled my father, who\nof course had no idea that their action was preconcerted.\n\nPanky was in the first row of block F, so that my father could not see\nhis face except sometimes when he turned round. He was sitting on the\nMayor\u2019s right hand, while Dr. Downie was on his left; he looked at my\nfather once or twice in a puzzled way, as though he ought to have known\nhim, but my father did not think he recognised him. Hanky was still with\nPresident Gurgoyle and others in the robing-room, N; Yram had already\ntaken her seat: my father knew her in a moment, though he pretended not\nto do so when George pointed her out to him. Their eyes met for a\nsecond; Yram turned hers quickly away, and my father could not see a\ntrace of recognition in her face. At no time during the whole ceremony\ndid he catch her looking at him again.\n\n\u201cWhy, you stupid man,\u201d she said to him later on in the day with a quick,\nkindly smile, \u201cI was looking at you all the time. As soon as the\nPresident or Hanky began to talk about you I knew you would stare at him,\nand then I could look. As soon as they left off talking about you I knew\nyou would be looking at me, unless you went to sleep--and as I did not\nknow which you might be doing, I waited till they began to talk about you\nagain.\u201d\n\nMy father had hardly taken note of his surroundings when the choir began\nsinging, accompanied by a few feeble flutes and lutes, or whatever the\nname of the instrument should be, but with no violins, for he knew\nnothing of the violin, and had not been able to teach the Erewhonians\nanything about it. The voices were all in unison, and the tune they sang\nwas one which my father had taught Yram to sing; but he could not catch\nthe words.\n\nAs soon as the singing began, a procession, headed by the venerable Dr.\nGurgoyle, President of the Musical Banks of the province, began to issue\nfrom the robing-room, and move towards the middle of the apse. The\nPresident was sumptuously dressed, but he wore no mitre, nor anything to\nsuggest an English or European Bishop. The Vice-President, Head Manager,\nVice-Manager, and some Cashiers of the Bank, now ranged themselves on\neither side of him, and formed an impressive group as they stood,\ngorgeously arrayed, at the top of the steps leading from the apse to the\nnave. Here they waited till the singers left off singing.\n\nWhen the litany, or hymn, or whatever it should be called, was over, the\nHead Manager left the President\u2019s side and came down to the lectern in\nthe nave, where he announced himself as about to read some passages from\nthe Sunchild\u2019s Sayings. Perhaps because it was the first day of the year\naccording to their new calendar, the reading began with the first\nchapter, the whole of which was read. My father told me that he quite\nwell remembered having said the last verse, which he still held as true;\nhardly a word of the rest was ever spoken by him, though he recognised\nhis own influence in almost all of it. The reader paused, with good\neffect, for about five seconds between each paragraph, and read slowly\nand very clearly. The chapter was as follows:-\n\n   These are the words of the Sunchild about God and man. He said--\n\n   1. God is the baseless basis of all thoughts, things, and deeds.\n\n   2. So that those who say that there is a God, lie, unless they also\n   mean that there is no God; and those who say that there is no God,\n   lie, unless they also mean that there is a God.\n\n   3. It is very true to say that man is made after the likeness of God;\n   and yet it is very untrue to say this.\n\n   4. God lives and moves in every atom throughout the universe.\n   Therefore it is wrong to think of Him as \u2018Him\u2019 and \u2018He,\u2019 save as by\n   the clutching of a drowning man at a straw.\n\n   5. God is God to us only so long as we cannot see Him. When we are\n   near to seeing Him He vanishes, and we behold Nature in His stead.\n\n   6. We approach Him most nearly when we think of Him as our expression\n   for Man\u2019s highest conception, of goodness, wisdom, and power. But we\n   cannot rise to Him above the level of our own highest selves.\n\n   7. We remove ourselves most far from Him when we invest Him with\n   human form and attributes.\n\n   8. My father the sun, the earth, the moon, and all planets that roll\n   round my father, are to God but as a single cell in our bodies to\n   ourselves.\n\n   9. He is as much above my father, as my father is above men and\n   women.\n\n   10. The universe is instinct with the mind of God. The mind of God\n   is in all that has mind throughout all worlds. There is no God but\n   the Universe, and man, in this world is His prophet.\n\n   11. God\u2019s conscious life, nascent, so far as this world is concerned,\n   in the infusoria, adolescent in the higher mammals, approaches\n   maturity on this earth in man. All these living beings are members\n   one of another, and of God.\n\n   12. Therefore, as man cannot live without God in the world, so\n   neither can God live in this world without mankind.\n\n   13. If we speak ill of God in our ignorance it may be forgiven us;\n   but if we speak ill of His Holy Spirit indwelling in good men and\n   women it may not be forgiven us.\n\nThe Head Manager now resumed his place by President Gurgoyle\u2019s side, and\nthe President in the name of his Majesty the King declared the temple to\nbe hereby dedicated to the contemplation of the Sunchild and the better\nexposition of his teaching. This was all that was said. The reliquary\nwas then brought forward and placed at the top of the steps leading from\nthe apse to the nave; but the original intention of carrying it round the\ntemple was abandoned for fear of accidents through the pressure round it\nof the enormous multitudes who were assembled. More singing followed of\na simple but impressive kind; during this I am afraid I must own that my\nfather, tired with his walk, dropped off into a refreshing slumber, from\nwhich he did not wake till George nudged him and told him not to snore,\njust as the Vice-Manager was going towards the lectern to read another\nchapter of the Sunchild\u2019s Sayings--which was as follows:-\n\n   The Sunchild also spoke to us a parable about the unwisdom of the\n   children yet unborn, who though they know so much, yet do not know as\n   much as they think they do.\n\n   He said:-\n\n   \u201cThe unborn have knowledge of one another so long as they are unborn,\n   and this without impediment from walls or material obstacles. The\n   unborn children in any city form a population apart, who talk with one\n   another and tell each other about their developmental progress.\n\n   \u201cThey have no knowledge, and cannot even conceive the existence of\n   anything that is not such as they are themselves. Those who have been\n   born are to them what the dead are to us. They can see no life in\n   them, and know no more about them than they do of any stage in their\n   own past development other than the one through which they are passing\n   at the moment. They do not even know that their mothers are\n   alive--much less that their mothers were once as they now are. To an\n   embryo, its mother is simply the environment, and is looked upon much\n   as our inorganic surroundings are by ourselves.\n\n   \u201cThe great terror of their lives is the fear of birth,--that they\n   shall have to leave the only thing that they can think of as life, and\n   enter upon a dark unknown which is to them tantamount to annihilation.\n\n   \u201cSome, indeed, among them have maintained that birth is not the death\n   which they commonly deem it, but that there is a life beyond the womb\n   of which they as yet know nothing, and which is a million fold more\n   truly life than anything they have yet been able even to imagine. But\n   the greater number shake their yet unfashioned heads and say they have\n   no evidence for this that will stand a moment\u2019s examination.\n\n   \u201c\u2018Nay,\u2019 answer the others, \u2018so much work, so elaborate, so wondrous as\n   that whereon we are now so busily engaged must have a purpose, though\n   the purpose is beyond our grasp.\u2019\n\n   \u201c\u2018Never,\u2019 reply the first speakers; \u2018our pleasure in the work is\n   sufficient justification for it. Who has ever partaken of this life\n   you speak of, and re-entered into the womb to tell us of it? Granted\n   that some few have pretended to have done this, but how completely\n   have their stories broken down when subjected to the tests of sober\n   criticism. No. When we are born we are born, and there is an end of\n   us.\u2019\n\n   \u201cBut in the hour of birth, when they can no longer re-enter the womb\n   and tell the others, Behold! they find that it is not so.\u201d\n\nHere the reader again closed his book and resumed his place in the apse.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI: PROFESSOR HANKY PREACHES A SERMON, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH MY\nFATHER DECLARES HIMSELF TO BE THE SUNCHILD\n\n\nProfessor Hanky then went up into the pulpit, richly but soberly robed in\nvestments the exact nature of which I cannot determine. His carriage was\ndignified, and the harsh lines on his face gave it a strong\nindividuality, which, though it did not attract, conveyed an impression\nof power that could not fail to interest. As soon as he had given\nattention time to fix itself upon him, he began his sermon without text\nor preliminary matter of any kind, and apparently without notes.\n\nHe spoke clearly and very quietly, especially at the beginning; he used\naction whenever it could point his meaning, or give it life and colour,\nbut there was no approach to staginess or even oratorical display. In\nfact, he spoke as one who meant what he was saying, and desired that his\nhearers should accept his meaning, fully confident in his good faith. His\nuse of pause was effective. After the word \u201cmistake,\u201d at the end of the\nopening sentence, he held up his half-bent hand and paused for full three\nseconds, looking intently at his audience as he did so. Every one felt\nthe idea to be here enounced that was to dominate the sermon.\n\nThe sermon--so much of it as I can find room for--was as follows:-\n\n\u201cMy friends, let there be no mistake. At such a time, as this, it is\nwell we should look back upon the path by which we have travelled, and\nforward to the goal towards which we are tending. As it was necessary\nthat the material foundations of this building should be so sure that\nthere shall be no subsidence in the superstructure, so is it not less\nnecessary to ensure that there shall be no subsidence in the immaterial\nstructure that we have raised in consequence of the Sunchild\u2019s sojourn\namong us. Therefore, my friends, I again say, \u2018Let there be no mistake.\u2019\nEach stone that goes towards the uprearing of this visible fane, each\nhuman soul that does its part in building the invisible temple of our\nnational faith, is bearing witness to, and lending its support to, that\nwhich is either the truth of truths, or the baseless fabric of a dream.\n\n\u201cMy friends, this is the only possible alternative. He in whose name we\nare here assembled, is either worthy of more reverential honour than we\ncan ever pay him, or he is worthy of no more honour than any other\nhonourable man among ourselves. There can be no halting between these\ntwo opinions. The question of questions is, was he the child of the\ntutelary god of this world--the sun, and is it to the palace of the sun\nthat he returned when he left us, or was he, as some amongst us still do\nnot hesitate to maintain, a mere man, escaping by unusual but strictly\nnatural means to some part of this earth with which we are unacquainted.\nMy friends, either we are on a right path or on a very wrong one, and in\na matter of such supreme importance--there must be no mistake.\n\n\u201cI need not remind those of you whose privilege it is to live in\nSunch\u2019ston, of the charm attendant on the Sunchild\u2019s personal presence\nand conversation, nor of his quick sympathy, his keen intellect, his\nreadiness to adapt himself to the capacities of all those who came to see\nhim while he was in prison. He adored children, and it was on them that\nsome of his most conspicuous miracles were performed. Many a time when a\nchild had fallen and hurt itself, was he known to make the place well by\nsimply kissing it. Nor need I recall to your minds the spotless purity\nof his life--so spotless that not one breath of slander has ever dared to\nvisit it. I was one of the not very many who had the privilege of being\nadmitted to the inner circle of his friends during the later weeks that\nhe was amongst us. I loved him dearly, and it will ever be the proudest\nrecollection of my life that he deigned to return me no small measure of\naffection.\u201d\n\nMy father, furious as he was at finding himself dragged into complicity\nwith this man\u2019s imposture, could not resist a smile at the effrontery\nwith which he lowered his tone here, and appeared unwilling to dwell on\nan incident which he could not recall without being affected almost to\ntears, and mere allusion to which, had involved an apparent self-display\nthat was above all things repugnant to him. What a difference between\nthe Hanky of Thursday evening with its \u201cnever set eyes on him and hope I\nnever shall,\u201d and the Hanky of Sunday morning, who now looked as modest\nas Cleopatra might have done had she been standing godmother to a little\nblue-eyed girl--Bellerophon\u2019s first-born baby.\n\nHaving recovered from his natural, but promptly repressed, emotion, the\nProfessor continued:-\n\n\u201cI need not remind you of the purpose for which so many of us, from so\nmany parts of our kingdom, are here assembled. We know what we have come\nhither to do: we are come each one of us to sign and seal by his presence\nthe bond of his assent to those momentous changes, which have found their\nfirst great material expression in the temple that you see around you.\n\n\u201cYou all know how, in accordance with the expressed will of the Sunchild,\nthe Presidents and Vice-Presidents of the Musical Banks began as soon as\nhe had left us to examine, patiently, carefully, earnestly, and without\nbias of any kind, firstly the evidences in support of the Sunchild\u2019s\nclaim to be the son of the tutelar deity of this world, and secondly the\nprecise nature of his instructions as regards the future position and\nauthority of the Musical Banks.\n\n\u201cMy friends, it is easy to understand why the Sunchild should have given\nus these instructions. With that foresight which is the special\ncharacteristic of divine, as compared with human, wisdom, he desired that\nthe evidences in support of his superhuman character should be collected,\nsifted, and placed on record, before anything was either lost through the\ndeath of those who could alone substantiate it, or unduly supplied\nthrough the enthusiasm of over-zealous visionaries. The greater any true\nmiracle has been, the more certainly will false ones accrete round it;\nhere, then, we find the explanation of the command the Sunchild gave to\nus to gather, verify, and record, the facts of his sojourn here in\nErewhon. For above all things he held it necessary to ensure that there\nshould be neither mistake, nor even possibility of mistake.\n\n\u201cConsider for a moment what differences of opinion would infallibly have\narisen, if the evidences for the miraculous character of the Sunchild\u2019s\nmission had been conflicting--if they had rested on versions each\nclaiming to be equally authoritative, but each hopelessly irreconcilable\non vital points with every single other. What would future generations\nhave said in answer to those who bade them fling all human experience to\nthe winds, on the strength of records written they knew not certainly by\nwhom, nor how long after the marvels that they recorded, and of which all\nthat could be certainly said was that no two of them told the same story?\n\n\u201cWho that believes either in God or man--who with any self-respect, or\nrespect for the gift of reason with which God had endowed him, either\nwould, or could, believe that a chariot and four horses had come down\nfrom heaven, and gone back again with human or quasi-human occupants,\nunless the evidences for the fact left no loophole for escape? If a\nsingle loophole were left him, he would be unpardonable, not for\ndisbelieving the story, but for believing it. The sin against God would\nlie not in want of faith, but in faith.\n\n\u201cMy friends, there are two sins in matters of belief. There is that of\nbelieving on too little evidence, and that of requiring too much before\nwe are convinced. The guilt of the latter is incurred, alas! by not a\nfew amongst us at the present day, but if the testimony to the truth of\nthe wondrous event so faithfully depicted on the picture that confronts\nyou had been less contemporaneous, less authoritative, less unanimous,\nfuture generations--and it is for them that we should now provide--would\nbe guilty of the first-named, and not less heinous sin if they believed\nat all.\n\n\u201cSmall wonder, then, that the Sunchild, having come amongst us for our\nadvantage, not his own, would not permit his beneficent designs to be\nendangered by the discrepancies, mythical developments, idiosyncracies,\nand a hundred other defects inevitably attendant on amateur and\nirresponsible recording. Small wonder, then, that he should have chosen\nthe officials of the Musical Banks, from the Presidents and\nVice-Presidents downwards to be the authoritative exponents of his\nteaching, the depositaries of his traditions, and his representatives\nhere on earth till he shall again see fit to visit us. For he will come.\nNay it is even possible that he may be here amongst us at this very\nmoment, disguised so that none may know him, and intent only on watching\nour devotion towards him. If this be so, let me implore him, in the name\nof the sun his father, to reveal himself.\u201d\n\nNow Hanky had already given my father more than one look that had made\nhim uneasy. He had evidently recognised him as the supposed ranger of\nlast Thursday evening. Twice he had run his eye like a searchlight over\nthe front benches opposite to him, and when the beam had reached my\nfather there had been no more searching. It was beginning to dawn upon\nmy father that George might have discovered that he was not Professor\nPanky; was it for this reason that these two young special constables,\nthough they gave up their places, still kept so close to him? Was George\nonly waiting his opportunity to arrest him--not of course even suspecting\nwho he was--but as a foreign devil who had tried to pass himself off as\nProfessor Panky? Had this been the meaning of his having followed him to\nFairmead? And should he have to be thrown into the Blue Pool by George\nafter all? \u201cIt would serve me,\u201d said he to himself, \u201crichly right.\u201d\n\nThese fears which had been taking shape for some few minutes were turned\nalmost to certainties by the half-contemptuous glance Hanky threw towards\nhim as he uttered what was obviously intended as a challenge. He saw\nthat all was over, and was starting to his feet to declare himself, and\nthus fall into the trap that Hanky was laying for him, when George\ngripped him tightly by the knee and whispered, \u201cDon\u2019t--you are in great\ndanger.\u201d And he smiled kindly as he spoke.\n\nMy father sank back dumbfounded. \u201cYou know me?\u201d he whispered in reply.\n\n\u201cPerfectly. So does Hanky, so does my mother; say no more,\u201d and he again\nsmiled.\n\nGeorge, as my father afterwards learned, had hoped that he would reveal\nhimself, and had determined in spite of his mother\u2019s instructions, to\ngive him an opportunity of doing so. It was for this reason that he had\nnot arrested him quietly, as he could very well have done, before the\nservice began. He wished to discover what manner of man his father was,\nand was quite happy as soon as he saw that he would have spoken out if he\nhad not been checked. He had not yet caught Hanky\u2019s motive in trying to\ngoad my father, but on seeing that he was trying to do this, he knew that\na trap was being laid, and that my father must not be allowed to speak.\n\nAlmost immediately, however, he perceived that while his eyes had been\nturned on Hanky, two burly vergers had wormed their way through the crowd\nand taken their stand close to his two brothers. Then he understood, and\nunderstood also how to frustrate.\n\nAs for my father, George\u2019s ascendancy over him--quite felt by George--was\nso absolute that he could think of nothing now but the exceeding great\njoy of finding his fears groundless, and of delivering himself up to his\nson\u2019s guidance in the assurance that the void in his heart was filled,\nand that his wager not only would be held as won, but was being already\npaid. How they had found out, why he was not to speak as he would\nassuredly have done--for he was in a white heat of fury--what did it all\nmatter now that he had found that which he had feared he should fail to\nfind? He gave George a puzzled smile, and composed himself as best he\ncould to hear the continuation of Hanky\u2019s sermon, which was as follows:-\n\n\u201cWho could the Sunchild have chosen, even though he had been gifted with\nno more than human sagacity, but the body of men whom he selected? It\nbecomes me but ill to speak so warmly in favour of that body of whom I am\nthe least worthy member, but what other is there in Erewhon so above all\nsuspicion of slovenliness, self-seeking, preconceived bias, or bad faith?\nIf there was one set of qualities more essential than another for the\nconduct of the investigations entrusted to us by the Sunchild, it was\nthose that turn on meekness and freedom from all spiritual pride. I\nbelieve I can say quite truly that these are the qualities for which\nBridgeford is more especially renowned. The readiness of her Professors\nto learn even from those who at first sight may seem least able to\ninstruct them--the gentleness with which they correct an opponent if they\nfeel it incumbent upon them to do so, the promptitude with which they\nacknowledge error when it is pointed out to them and quit a position no\nmatter how deeply they have been committed to it, at the first moment in\nwhich they see that they cannot hold it righteously, their delicate sense\nof honour, their utter immunity from what the Sunchild used to call log-\nrolling or intrigue, the scorn with which they regard anything like\nhitting below the belt--these I believe I may truly say are the virtues\nfor which Bridgeford is pre-eminently renowned.\u201d\n\nThe Professor went on to say a great deal more about the fitness of\nBridgeford and the Musical Bank managers for the task imposed on them by\nthe Sunchild, but here my father\u2019s attention flagged--nor, on looking at\nthe verbatim report of the sermon that appeared next morning in the\nleading Sunch\u2019ston journal, do I see reason to reproduce Hanky\u2019s words on\nthis head. It was all to shew that there had been no possibility of\nmistake.\n\nMeanwhile George was writing on a scrap of paper as though he was taking\nnotes of the sermon. Presently he slipped this into my father\u2019s hand. It\nran:-\n\n\u201cYou see those vergers standing near my brothers, who gave up their seats\nto us. Hanky tried to goad you into speaking that they might arrest you,\nand get you into the Bank prisons. If you fall into their hands you are\nlost. I must arrest you instantly on a charge of poaching on the King\u2019s\npreserves, and make you my prisoner. Let those vergers catch sight of\nthe warrant which I shall now give you. Read it and return it to me.\nCome with me quietly after service. I think you had better not reveal\nyourself at all.\u201d\n\nAs soon as he had given my father time to read the foregoing, George took\na warrant out of his pocket. My father pretended to read it and returned\nit. George then laid his hand on his shoulder, and in an undertone\narrested him. He then wrote on another scrap of paper and passed it on\nto the elder of his two brothers. It was to the effect that he had now\narrested my father, and that if the vergers attempted in any way to\ninterfere between him and his prisoner, his brothers were to arrest both\nof them, which, as special constables, they had power to do.\n\nYram had noted Hanky\u2019s attempt to goad my father, and had not been\nprepared for his stealing a march upon her by trying to get my father\narrested by Musical Bank officials, rather than by her son. On the\npreceding evening this last plan had been arranged on; and she knew\nnothing of the note that Hanky had sent an hour or two later to the\nManager of the temple--the substance of which the reader can sufficiently\nguess. When she had heard Hanky\u2019s words and saw the vergers, she was for\na few minutes seriously alarmed, but she was reassured when she saw\nGeorge give my father the warrant, and her two sons evidently explaining\nthe position to the vergers.\n\nHanky had by this time changed his theme, and was warning his hearers of\nthe dangers that would follow on the legalization of the medical\nprofession, and the repeal of the edicts against machines. Space forbids\nme to give his picture of the horrible tortures that future generations\nwould be put to by medical men, if these were not duly kept in check by\nthe influence of the Musical Banks; the horrors of the inquisition in the\nmiddle ages are nothing to what he depicted as certain to ensue if\nmedical men were ever to have much money at their command. The only\npeople in whose hands money might be trusted safely were those who\npresided over the Musical Banks. This tirade was followed by one not\nless alarming about the growth of materialistic tendencies among the\nartisans employed in the production of mechanical inventions. My father,\nthough his eyes had been somewhat opened by the second of the two\nprocessions he had seen on his way to Sunch\u2019ston, was not prepared to\nfind that in spite of the superficially almost universal acceptance of\nthe new faith, there was a powerful, and it would seem growing,\nundercurrent of scepticism, with a desire to reduce his escape with my\nmother to a purely natural occurence.\n\n\u201cIt is not enough,\u201d said Hanky, \u201cthat the Sunchild should have ensured\nthe preparation of authoritative evidence of his supernatural character.\nThe evidences happily exist in overwhelming strength, but they must be\nbrought home to minds that as yet have stubbornly refused to receive\nthem. During the last five years there has been an enormous increase in\nthe number of those whose occupation in the manufacture of machines\ninclines them to a materialistic explanation even of the most obviously\nmiraculous events, and the growth of this class in our midst constituted,\nand still constitutes, a grave danger to the state.\n\n\u201cIt was to meet this that the society was formed on behalf of which I\nappeal fearlessly to your generosity. It is called, as most of you\ndoubtless know, the Sunchild Evidence Society; and his Majesty the King\ngraciously consented to become its Patron. This society not only\ncollects additional evidences--indeed it is entirely due to its labours\nthat the precious relic now in this temple was discovered--but it is its\nbeneficent purpose to lay those that have been authoritatively\ninvestigated before men who, if left to themselves, would either neglect\nthem altogether, or worse still reject them.\n\n\u201cFor the first year or two the efforts of the society met with but little\nsuccess among those for whose benefit they were more particularly\nintended, but during the present year the working classes in some cities\nand towns (stimulated very much by the lectures of my illustrious friend\nProfessor Panky) have shewn a most remarkable and zealous interest in\nSunchild evidences, and have formed themselves into local branches for\nthe study and defence of Sunchild truth.\n\n\u201cYet in spite of all this need--of all this patient labour and really\nvery gratifying success--the subscriptions to the society no longer\nfurnish it with its former very modest income--an income which is\ndeplorably insufficient if the organization is to be kept effective, and\nthe work adequately performed. In spite of the most rigid economy, the\ncommittee have been compelled to part with a considerable portion of\ntheir small reserve fund (provided by a legacy) to tide over\ndifficulties. But this method of balancing expenditure and income is\nvery unsatisfactory, and cannot be long continued.\n\n\u201cI am led to plead for the society with especial insistence at the\npresent time, inasmuch as more than one of those whose unblemished life\nhas made them fitting recipients of such a signal favour, have recently\nhad visions informing them that the Sunchild will again shortly visit us.\nWe know not when he will come, but when he comes, my friends, let him not\nfind us unmindful of, nor ungrateful for, the inestimable services he has\nrendered us. For come he surely will. Either in winter, what time\nicicles hang by the wall and milk comes frozen home in the pail--or in\nsummer when days are at their longest and the mowing grass is about--there\nwill be an hour, either at morn, or eve, or in the middle day, when he\nwill again surely come. May it be mine to be among those who are then\npresent to receive him.\u201d\n\nHere he again glared at my father, whose blood was boiling. George had\nnot positively forbidden him to speak out; he therefore sprang to his\nfeet, \u201cYou lying hound,\u201d he cried, \u201cI am the Sunchild, and you know it.\u201d\n\nGeorge, who knew that he had my father in his own hands, made no attempt\nto stop him, and was delighted that he should have declared himself\nthough he had felt it his duty to tell him not to do so. Yram turned\npale. Hanky roared out, \u201cTear him in pieces--leave not a single limb on\nhis body. Take him out and burn him alive.\u201d The vergers made a dash for\nhim--but George\u2019s brothers seized them. The crowd seemed for a moment\ninclined to do as Hanky bade them, but Yram rose from her place, and held\nup her hand as one who claimed attention. She advanced towards George\nand my father as unconcernedly as though she were merely walking out of\nchurch, but she still held her hand uplifted. All eyes were turned on\nher, as well as on George and my father, and the icy calm of her self-\npossession chilled those who were inclined for the moment to take Hanky\u2019s\nwords literally. There was not a trace of fluster in her gait, action,\nor words, as she said--\n\n\u201cMy friends, this temple, and this day, must not be profaned with blood.\nMy son will take this poor madman to the prison. Let him be judged and\npunished according to law. Make room, that he and my son may pass.\u201d\n\nThen, turning to my father, she said, \u201cGo quietly with the Ranger.\u201d\n\nHaving so spoken, she returned to her seat as unconcernedly as she had\nleft it.\n\nHanky for a time continued to foam at the mouth and roar out, \u201cTear him\nto pieces! burn him alive!\u201d but when he saw that there was no further\nhope of getting the people to obey him, he collapsed on to a seat in his\npulpit, mopped his bald head, and consoled himself with a great pinch of\na powder which corresponds very closely to our own snuff.\n\nGeorge led my father out by the side door at the north end of the western\naisle; the people eyed him intently, but made way for him without\ndemonstration. One voice alone was heard to cry out, \u201cYes, he is the\nSunchild!\u201d My father glanced at the speaker, and saw that he was the\ninterpreter who had taught him the Erewhonian language when he was in\nprison.\n\nGeorge, seeing a special constable close by, told him to bid his brothers\nrelease the vergers, and let them arrest the interpreter--this the\nvergers, foiled as they had been in the matter of my father\u2019s arrest,\nwere very glad to do. So the poor interpreter, to his dismay, was lodged\nat once in one of the Bank prison-cells, where he could do no further\nharm.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII: GEORGE TAKES HIS FATHER TO PRISON, AND THERE OBTAINS SOME\nUSEFUL INFORMATION\n\n\nBy this time George had got my father into the open square, where he was\nsurprised to find that a large bonfire had been made and lighted. There\nhad been nothing of the kind an hour before; the wood, therefore, must\nhave been piled and lighted while people had been in church. He had no\ntime at the moment to enquire why this had been done, but later on he\ndiscovered that on the Sunday morning the Manager of the new temple had\nobtained leave from the Mayor to have the wood piled in the square,\nrepresenting that this was Professor Hanky\u2019s contribution to the\nfestivities of the day. There had, it seemed, been no intention of\nlighting it until nightfall; but it had accidentally caught fire through\nthe carelessness of a workman, much about the time when Hanky began to\npreach. No one for a moment believed that there had been any sinister\nintention, or that Professor Hanky when he urged the crowd to burn my\nfather alive, even knew that there was a pile of wood in the square at\nall--much less that it had been lighted--for he could hardly have\nsupposed that the wood had been got together so soon. Nevertheless both\nGeorge and my father, when they knew all that had passed, congratulated\nthemselves on the fact that my father had not fallen into the hands of\nthe vergers, who would probably have tried to utilise the accidental\nfire, though in no case is it likely they would have succeeded.\n\nAs soon as they were inside the gaol, the old Master recognised my\nfather. \u201cBless my heart--what? You here, again, Mr. Higgs? Why, I\nthought you were in the palace of the sun your father.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish I was,\u201d answered my father, shaking hands with him, but he could\nsay no more.\n\n\u201cYou are as safe here as if you were,\u201d said George laughing, \u201cand safer.\u201d\nThen turning to his grandfather, he said, \u201cYou have the record of Mr.\nHiggs\u2019s marks and measurements? I know you have: take him to his old\ncell; it is the best in the prison; and then please bring me the record.\u201d\n\nThe old man took George and my father to the cell which he had occupied\ntwenty years earlier--but I cannot stay to describe his feelings on\nfinding himself again within it. The moment his grandfather\u2019s back was\nturned, George said to my father, \u201cAnd now shake hands also with your\nson.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he took my father\u2019s hand and pressed it warmly between both\nhis own.\n\n\u201cThen you know you are my son,\u201d said my father as steadily as the strong\nemotion that mastered him would permit.\n\n\u201cCertainly.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you did not know this when I was walking with you on Friday?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course not. I thought you were Professor Panky; if I had not taken\nyou for one of the two persons named in your permit, I should have\nquestioned you closely, and probably ended by throwing you into the Blue\nPool.\u201d He shuddered as he said this.\n\n\u201cBut you knew who I was when you called me Panky in the temple?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so. My mother told me everything on Friday evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that is why you tried to find me at Fairmead?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but where in the world were you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI was inside the Musical Bank of the town, resting and reading.\u201d\n\nGeorge laughed, and said, \u201cOn purpose to hide?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no; pure chance. But on Friday evening? How could your mother have\nfound out by that time that I was in Erewhon? Am I on my head or my\nheels?\u201d\n\n\u201cOn your heels, my father, which shall take you back to your own country\nas soon as we can get you out of this.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat have I done to deserve so much goodwill? I have done you nothing\nbut harm?\u201d Again he was quite overcome.\n\nGeorge patted him gently on the hand, and said, \u201cYou made a bet and you\nwon it. During the very short time that we can be together, you shall be\npaid in full, and may heaven protect us both.\u201d\n\nAs soon as my father could speak he said, \u201cBut how did your mother find\nout that I was in Erewhon?\u201d\n\n\u201cHanky and Panky were dining with her, and they told her some things that\nshe thought strange. She cross-questioned them, put two and two\ntogether, learned that you had got their permit out of them, saw that you\nintended to return on Friday, and concluded that you would be sleeping in\nSunch\u2019ston. She sent for me, told me all, bade me scour Sunch\u2019ston to\nfind you, intending that you should be at once escorted safely over the\npreserves by me. I found your inn, but you had given us the slip. I\ntried first Fairmead and then Clearwater, but did not find you till this\nmorning. For reasons too long to repeat, my mother warned Hanky and\nPanky that you would be in the temple; whereon Hanky tried to get you\ninto his clutches. Happily he failed, but if I had known what he was\ndoing I should have arrested you before the service. I ought to have\ndone this, but I wanted you to win your wager, and I shall get you safely\naway in spite of them. My mother will not like my having let you hear\nHanky\u2019s sermon and declare yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou half told me not to say who I was.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but I was delighted when you disobeyed me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did it very badly. I never rise to great occasions, I always fall to\nthem, but these things must come as they come.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did it as well as it could be done, and good will come of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d he continued, \u201cdescribe exactly all that passed between you\nand the Professors. On which side of Panky did Hanky sit, and did they\nsit north and south or east and west? How did you get--oh yes, I know\nthat--you told them it would be of no further use to them. Tell me all\nelse you can.\u201d\n\nMy father said that the Professors were sitting pretty well east and\nwest, so that Hanky, who was on the east side, nearest the mountains, had\nPanky, who was on the Sunch\u2019ston side, on his right hand. George made a\nnote of this. My father then told what the reader already knows, but\nwhen he came to the measurement of the boots, George said, \u201cTake your\nboots off,\u201d and began taking off his own. \u201cFoot for foot,\u201d said he, \u201cwe\nare not father and son, but brothers. Yours will fit me; they are less\nworn than mine, but I daresay you will not mind that.\u201d\n\nOn this George _ex abundanti cautel\u00e2_ knocked a nail out of the right\nboot that he had been wearing and changed boots with my father; but he\nthought it more plausible not to knock out exactly the same nail that was\nmissing on my father\u2019s boot. When the change was made, each found--or\nsaid he found--the other\u2019s boots quite comfortable.\n\nMy father all the time felt as though he were a basket given to a dog.\nThe dog had got him, was proud of him, and no one must try to take him\naway. The promptitude with which George took to him, the obvious\npleasure he had in \u201crunning\u201d him, his quick judgement, verging as it\nshould towards rashness, his confidence that my father trusted him\nwithout reserve, the conviction of perfect openness that was conveyed by\nthe way in which his eyes never budged from my father\u2019s when he spoke to\nhim, his genial, kindly, manner, perfect physical health, and the air he\nhad of being on the best possible terms with himself and every one\nelse--the combination of all this so overmastered my poor father (who\nindeed had been sufficiently mastered before he had been five minutes in\nGeorge\u2019s company) that he resigned himself as gratefully to being a\nbasket, as George had cheerfully undertaken the task of carrying him.\n\nIn passing I may say that George could never get his own boots back\nagain, though he tried more than once to do so. My father always made\nsome excuse. They were the only memento of George that he brought home\nwith him; I wonder that he did not ask for a lock of his hair, but he did\nnot. He had the boots put against a wall in his bedroom, where he could\nsee them from his bed, and during his illness, while consciousness yet\nremained with him, I saw his eyes continually turn towards them. George,\nin fact, dominated him as long as anything in this world could do so. Nor\ndo I wonder; on the contrary, I love his memory the better; for I too, as\nwill appear later, have seen George, and whatever little jealousy I may\nhave felt, vanished on my finding him almost instantaneously gain the\nsame ascendancy over me his brother, that he had gained over his and my\nfather. But of this no more at present. Let me return to the gaol in\nSunch\u2019ston.\n\n\u201cTell me more,\u201d said George, \u201cabout the Professors.\u201d\n\nMy father told him about the nuggets, the sale of his kit, the receipt he\nhad given for the money, and how he had got the nuggets back from a tree,\nthe position of which he described.\n\n\u201cI know the tree; have you got the nuggets here?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere they are, with the receipt, and the pocket handkerchief marked with\nHanky\u2019s name. The pocket handkerchief was found wrapped round some dried\nleaves that we call tea, but I have not got these with me.\u201d As he spoke\nhe gave everything to George, who showed the utmost delight in getting\npossession of them.\n\n\u201cI suppose the blanket and the rest of the kit are still in the tree?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnless Hanky and Panky have got them away, or some one has found them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is not likely. I will now go to my office, but I will come back\nvery shortly. My grandfather shall bring you something to eat at once. I\nwill tell him to send enough for two\u201d--which he accordingly did.\n\nOn reaching the office, he told his next brother (whom he had made an\nunder-ranger) to go to the tree he described, and bring back the bundle\nhe should find concealed therein. \u201cYou can go there and back,\u201d he said,\n\u201cin an hour and a half, and I shall want the bundle by that time.\u201d\n\nThe brother, whose name I never rightly caught, set out at once. As soon\nas he was gone, George took from a drawer the feathers and bones of\nquails, that he had shown my father on the morning when he met him. He\ndivided them in half, and made them into two bundles, one of which he\ndocketed, \u201cBones of quails eaten, XIX. xii. 29, by Professor Hanky,\nP.O.W.W., &c.\u201d And he labelled Panky\u2019s quail bones in like fashion.\n\nHaving done this, he returned to the gaol, but on his way he looked in at\nthe Mayor\u2019s, and left a note saying that he should be at the gaol, where\nany message would reach him, but that he did not wish to meet Professors\nHanky and Panky for another couple of hours. It was now about half-past\ntwelve, and he caught sight of a crowd coming quietly out of the temple,\nwhereby he knew that Hanky would soon be at the Mayor\u2019s house.\n\nDinner was brought in almost at the moment when George returned to the\ngaol. As soon as it was over George said:-\n\n\u201cAre you quite sure you have made no mistake about the way in which you\ngot the permit out of the Professors?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite sure. I told them they would not want it, and said I could save\nthem trouble if they gave it me. They never suspected why I wanted it.\nWhere do you think I may be mistaken?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou sold your nuggets for rather less than a twentieth part of their\nvalue, and you threw in some curiosities, that would have fetched about\nhalf as much as you got for the nuggets. You say you did this because\nyou wanted money to keep you going till you could sell some of your\nnuggets. This sounds well at first, but the sacrifice is too great to be\nplausible when considered. It looks more like a case of good honest\nmanly straightforward corruption.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut surely you believe me?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I do. I believe every syllable that comes from your mouth,\nbut I shall not be able to make out that the story was as it was not,\nunless I am quite certain what it really was.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was exactly as I have told you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is enough. And now, may I tell my mother that you will put\nyourself in her, and the Mayor\u2019s, and my, hands, and will do whatever we\ntell you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be obedience itself--but you will not ask me to do anything that\nwill make your mother or you think less well of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf we tell you what you are to do, we shall not think any the worse of\nyou for doing it. Then I may say to my mother that you will be good and\ngive no trouble--not even though we bid you shake hands with Hanky and\nPanky?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will embrace them and kiss them on both cheeks, if you and she tell me\nto do so. But what about the Mayor?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has known everything, and condoned everything, these last twenty\nyears. He will leave everything to my mother and me.\u201d\n\n\u201cShall I have to see him?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly. You must be brought up before him to-morrow morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can I look him in the face?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you would me, or any one else. It is understood among us that\nnothing happened. Things may have looked as though they had happened,\nbut they did not happen.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you are not yet quite twenty?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, but I am son to my mother--and,\u201d he added, \u201cto one who can stretch a\npoint or two in the way of honesty as well as other people.\u201d\n\nHaving said this with a laugh, he again took my father\u2019s hand between\nboth his, and went back to his office--where he set himself to think out\nthe course he intended to take when dealing with the Professors.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII: YRAM INVITES DR. DOWNIE AND MRS. HUMDRUM TO LUNCHEON--A\nPASSAGE AT ARMS BETWEEN HER AND HANKY IS AMICABLY ARRANGED\n\n\nThe disturbance caused by my father\u2019s outbreak was quickly suppressed,\nfor George got him out of the temple almost immediately; it was bruited\nabout, however, that the Sunchild had come down from the palace of the\nsun, but had disappeared as soon as any one had tried to touch him. In\nvain did Hanky try to put fresh life into his sermon; its back had been\nbroken, and large numbers left the church to see what they could hear\noutside, or failing information, to discourse more freely with one\nanother.\n\nHanky did his best to quiet his hearers when he found that he could not\ninfuriate them,--\n\n\u201cThis poor man,\u201d he said, \u201cis already known to me, as one of those who\nhave deluded themselves into believing that they are the Sunchild. I\nhave known of his so declaring himself, more than once, in the\nneighbourhood of Bridgeford, and others have not infrequently done the\nsame; I did not at first recognize him, and regret that the shock of\nhorror his words occasioned me should have prompted me to suggest\nviolence against him. Let this unfortunate affair pass from your minds,\nand let me again urge upon you the claims of the Sunchild Evidence\nSociety.\u201d\n\nThe audience on hearing that they were to be told more about the Sunchild\nEvidence Society melted away even more rapidly than before, and the\nsermon fizzled out to an ignominious end quite unworthy of its occasion.\n\nAbout half-past twelve, the service ended, and Hanky went to the robing-\nroom to take off his vestments. Yram, the Mayor, and Panky, waited for\nhim at the door opposite to that through which my father had been taken;\nwhile waiting, Yram scribbled off two notes in pencil, one to Dr. Downie,\nand another to Mrs. Humdrum, begging them to come to lunch at once--for\nit would be one o\u2019clock before they could reach the Mayor\u2019s. She gave\nthese notes to the Mayor, and bade him bring both the invited guests\nalong with him.\n\nThe Mayor left just as Hanky was coming towards her. \u201cThis, Mayoress,\u201d\nhe said with some asperity, \u201cis a very serious business. It has ruined\nmy collection. Half the people left the temple without giving anything\nat all. You seem,\u201d he added in a tone the significance of which could\nnot be mistaken, \u201cto be very fond, Mayoress, of this Mr. Higgs.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Yram, \u201cI am; I always liked him, and I am sorry for him; but\nhe is not the person I am most sorry for at this moment--he, poor man, is\nnot going to be horsewhipped within the next twenty minutes.\u201d And she\nspoke the \u201che\u201d in italics.\n\n\u201cI do not understand you, Mayoress.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy husband will explain, as soon as I have seen him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHanky,\u201d said Panky, \u201cyou must withdraw, and apologise at once.\u201d\n\nHanky was not slow to do this, and when he had disavowed everything,\nwithdrawn everything, apologised for everything, and eaten humble pie to\nYram\u2019s satisfaction, she smiled graciously, and held out her hand, which\nHanky was obliged to take.\n\n\u201cAnd now, Professor,\u201d she said, \u201clet me return to your remark that this\nis a very serious business, and let me also claim a woman\u2019s privilege of\nbeing listened to whenever she chooses to speak. I propose, then, that\nwe say nothing further about this matter till after luncheon. I have\nasked Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum to join us--\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy Mrs. Humdrum?\u201d interrupted Hanky none too pleasantly, for he was\nstill furious about the duel that had just taken place between himself\nand his hostess.\n\n\u201cMy dear Professor,\u201d said Yram good-humouredly, \u201cpray say all you have to\nsay and I will continue.\u201d\n\nHanky was silent.\n\n\u201cI have asked,\u201d resumed Yram, \u201cDr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum to join, us,\nand after luncheon we can discuss the situation or no as you may think\nproper. Till then let us say no more. Luncheon will be over by two\no\u2019clock or soon after, and the banquet will not begin till seven, so we\nshall have plenty of time.\u201d\n\nHanky looked black and said nothing. As for Panky he was morally in a\nstate of collapse, and did not count.\n\nHardly had they reached the Mayor\u2019s house when the Mayor also arrived\nwith Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum, both of whom had seen and recognised my\nfather in spite of his having dyed his hair. Dr. Downie had met him at\nsupper in Mr. Thims\u2019s rooms when he had visited Bridgeford, and naturally\nenough had observed him closely. Mrs. Humdrum, as I have already said,\nhad seen him more than once when he was in prison. She and Dr. Downie\nwere talking earnestly over the strange reappearance of one whom they had\nbelieved long since dead, but Yram imposed on them the same silence that\nshe had already imposed on the Professors.\n\n\u201cProfessor Hanky,\u201d said she to Mrs. Humdrum, in Hanky\u2019s hearing, \u201cis a\nlittle alarmed at my having asked you to join our secret conclave. He is\nnot married, and does not know how well a woman can hold her tongue when\nshe chooses. I should have told you all that passed, for I mean to\nfollow your advice, so I thought you had better hear everything\nyourself.\u201d\n\nHanky still looked black, but he said nothing. Luncheon was promptly\nserved, and done justice to in spite of much preoccupation; for if there\nis one thing that gives a better appetite than another, it is a Sunday\nmorning\u2019s service with a charity sermon to follow. As the guests might\nnot talk on the subject they wanted to talk about, and were in no humour\nto speak of anything else, they gave their whole attention to the good\nthings that were before them, without so much as a thought about\nreserving themselves for the evening\u2019s banquet. Nevertheless, when\nluncheon was over, the Professors were in no more genial, manageable,\nstate of mind than they had been when it began.\n\nWhen the servants had left the room, Yram said to Hanky, \u201cYou saw the\nprisoner, and he was the man you met on Thursday night?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly, he was wearing the forbidden dress and he had many quails in\nhis possession. There is no doubt also that he was a foreign devil.\u201d\n\nAt this point, it being now nearly half-past two, George came in, and\ntook a seat next to Mrs. Humdrum--between her and his mother--who of\ncourse sat at the head of the table with the Mayor opposite to her. On\none side of the table sat the Professors, and on the other Dr. Downie,\nMrs. Humdrum, and George, who had heard the last few words that Hanky had\nspoken.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX: A COUNCIL IS HELD AT THE MAYOR\u2019S, IN THE COURSE OF WHICH\nGEORGE TURNS THE TABLES ON THE PROFESSORS\n\n\n\u201cNow who,\u201d said Yram, \u201cis this unfortunate creature to be, when he is\nbrought up to-morrow morning, on the charge of poaching?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not necessary,\u201d said Hanky severely, \u201cthat he should be brought up\nfor poaching. He is a foreign devil, and as such your son is bound to\nfling him without trial into the Blue Pool. Why bring a smaller charge\nwhen you must inflict the death penalty on a more serious one? I have\nalready told you that I shall feel it my duty to report the matter at\nheadquarters, unless I am satisfied that the death penalty has been\ninflicted.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course,\u201d said George, \u201cwe must all of us do our duty, and I shall not\nshrink from mine--but I have arrested this man on a charge of poaching,\nand must give my reasons; the case cannot be dropped, and it must be\nheard in public. Am I, or am I not, to have the sworn depositions of\nboth you gentlemen to the fact that the prisoner is the man you saw with\nquails in his possession? If you can depose to this he will be\nconvicted, for there can be no doubt he killed the birds himself. The\nleast penalty my father can inflict is twelve months\u2019 imprisonment with\nhard labour; and he must undergo this sentence before I can Blue-Pool\nhim.\n\n\u201cThen comes the question whether or no he is a foreign devil. I may\ndecide this in private, but I must have depositions on oath before I do\nso, and at present I have nothing but hearsay. Perhaps you gentlemen can\ngive me the evidence I shall require, but the case is one of such\nimportance that were the prisoner proved never so clearly to be a foreign\ndevil, I should not Blue-Pool him till I had taken the King\u2019s pleasure\nconcerning him. I shall rejoice, therefore, if you gentlemen can help me\nto sustain the charge of poaching, and thus give me legal standing-ground\nfor deferring action which the King might regret, and which once taken\ncannot be recalled.\u201d\n\nHere Yram interposed. \u201cThese points,\u201d she said, \u201care details. Should we\nnot first settle, not what, but who, we shall allow the prisoner to be,\nwhen he is brought up to-morrow morning? Settle this, and the rest will\nsettle itself. He has declared himself to be the Sunchild, and will\nprobably do so again. I am prepared to identify him, so is Dr. Downie,\nso is Mrs. Humdrum, the interpreter, and doubtless my father. Others of\nknown respectability will also do so, and his marks and measurements are\nsure to correspond quite sufficiently. The question is, whether all this\nis to be allowed to appear on evidence, or whether it is to be\nestablished, as it easily may, if we give our minds to it, that he is not\nthe Sunchild.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhatever else he is,\u201d said Hanky, \u201che must not be the Sunchild. He\nmust, if the charge of poaching cannot be dropped, be a poacher and a\nforeign devil. I was doubtless too hasty when I said that I believed I\nrecognized the man as one who had more than once declared himself to be\nthe Sunchild--\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, Hanky,\u201d interrupted Panky, \u201care you sure that you can swear to this\nman\u2019s being the man we met on Thursday night? We only saw him by\nfirelight, and I doubt whether I should feel justified in swearing to\nhim.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well: on second thoughts I am not sure, Panky, but what you may be\nright after all; it is possible that he may be what I said he was in my\nsermon.\u201d\n\n\u201cI rejoice to hear you say so,\u201d said George, \u201cfor in this case the charge\nof poaching will fall through. There will be no evidence against the\nprisoner. And I rejoice also to think that I shall have nothing to\nwarrant me in believing him to be a foreign devil. For if he is not to\nbe the Sunchild, and not to be your poacher, he becomes a mere\nmonomaniac. If he apologises for having made a disturbance in the\ntemple, and promises not to offend again, a fine, and a few days\u2019\nimprisonment, will meet the case, and he may be discharged.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see, I see,\u201d said Hanky very angrily. \u201cYou are determined to get this\nman off if you can.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall act,\u201d said George, \u201cin accordance with sworn evidence, and not\notherwise. Choose whether you will have the prisoner to be your poacher\nor no: give me your sworn depositions one way or the other, and I shall\nknow how to act. If you depose on oath to the identity of the prisoner\nand your poacher, he will be convicted and imprisoned. As to his being a\nforeign devil, if he is the Sunchild, of course he is one; but otherwise\nI cannot Blue-Pool him even when his sentence is expired, without\ntestimony deposed to me on oath in private, though no open trial is\nrequired. A case for suspicion was made out in my hearing last night,\nbut I must have depositions on oath to all the leading facts before I can\ndecide what my duty is. What will you swear to?\u201d\n\n\u201cAll this,\u201d said Hanky, in a voice husky with passion, \u201cshall be reported\nto the King.\u201d\n\n\u201cI intend to report every word of it; but that is not the point: the\nquestion is what you gentlemen will swear to?\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. I will settle it thus. We will swear that the prisoner is\nthe poacher we met on Thursday night, and that he is also a foreign\ndevil: his wearing the forbidden dress; his foreign accent; the\nfoot-tracks we found in the snow, as of one coming over from the other\nside; his obvious ignorance of the Afforesting Act, as shown by his\nhaving lit a fire and making no effort to conceal his quails till our\npermit shewed him his blunder; the cock-and-bull story he told us about\nyour orders, and that other story about his having killed a foreign\ndevil--if these facts do not satisfy you, they will satisfy the King that\nthe prisoner is a foreign devil as well as a poacher.\u201d\n\n\u201cSome of these facts,\u201d answered George, \u201care new to me. How do you know\nthat the foot-tracks were made by the prisoner?\u201d\n\nPanky brought out his note-book and read the details he had noted.\n\n\u201cDid you examine the man\u2019s boots?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne of them, the right foot; this, with the measurements, was quite\nenough.\u201d\n\n\u201cHardly. Please to look at both soles of my own boots; you will find\nthat those tracks were mine. I will have the prisoner\u2019s boots examined;\nin the meantime let me tell you that I was up at the statues on Thursday\nmorning, walked three or four hundred yards beyond them, over ground\nwhere there was less snow, returned over the snow, and went two or three\ntimes round them, as it is the Ranger\u2019s duty to do once a year in order\nto see that none of them are beginning to lean.\u201d\n\nHe showed the soles of his boots, and the Professors were obliged to\nadmit that the tracks were his. He cautioned them as to the rest of the\npoints on which they relied. Might they not be as mistaken, as they had\njust proved to be about the tracks? He could not, however, stir them\nfrom sticking to it that there was enough evidence to prove my father to\nbe a foreign devil, and declaring their readiness to depose to the facts\non oath. In the end Hanky again fiercely accused him of trying to shield\nthe prisoner.\n\n\u201cYou are quite right,\u201d said George, \u201cand you will see my reasons\nshortly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no doubt,\u201d said Hanky significantly, \u201cthat they are such as would\nweigh with any man of ordinary feeling.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand, then,\u201d said George, appearing to take no notice of Hanky\u2019s\ninnuendo, \u201cthat you will swear to the facts as you have above stated\nthem?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen kindly wait while I write them on the form that I have brought with\nme; the Mayor can administer the oath and sign your depositions. I shall\nthen be able to leave you, and proceed with getting up the case against\nthe prisoner.\u201d\n\nSo saying, he went to a writing-table in another part of the room, and\nmade out the depositions.\n\nMeanwhile the Mayor, Mrs. Humdrum, and Dr. Downie (who had each of them\nmore than once vainly tried to take part in the above discussion)\nconversed eagerly in an undertone among themselves. Hanky was blind with\nrage, for he had a sense that he was going to be outwitted; the Mayor,\nYram, and Mrs. Humdrum had already seen that George thought he had all\nthe trumps in his own hand, but they did not know more. Dr. Downie was\nfrightened, and Panky so muddled as to be _hors de combat_.\n\nGeorge now rejoined the Professors, and read the depositions: the Mayor\nadministered the oath according to Erewhonian custom; the Professors\nsigned without a word, and George then handed the document to his father\nto countersign.\n\nThe Mayor examined it, and almost immediately said, \u201cMy dear George, you\nhave made a mistake; these depositions are on a form reserved for\ndeponents who are on the point of death.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d answered George, \u201cthere is no help for it. I did my utmost to\nprevent their signing. I knew that those depositions were their own\ndeath warrant,--and that is why, though I was satisfied that the prisoner\nis a foreign devil, I had hoped to be able to shut my eyes. I can now no\nlonger do so, and as the inevitable consequence, I must Blue-Pool both\nthe Professors before midnight. What man of ordinary feeling would not\nunder these circumstances have tried to dissuade them from deposing as\nthey have done?\u201d\n\nBy this time the Professors had started to their feet, and there was a\nlook of horrified astonishment on the faces of all present, save that of\nGeorge, who seemed quite happy.\n\n\u201cWhat monstrous absurdity is this?\u201d shouted Hanky; \u201cdo you mean to murder\nus?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not. But you have insisted that I should do my duty, and I\nmean to do it. You gentlemen have now been proved to my satisfaction to\nhave had traffic with a foreign devil; and under section 37 of the\nAfforesting Act, I must at once Blue-Pool any such persons without public\ntrial.\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, nonsense, there was nothing of the kind on our permit, and as\nfor trafficking with this foreign devil, we spoke to him, but we neither\nbought nor sold. Where is the Act?\u201d\n\n\u201cHere. On your permit you were referred to certain other clauses not set\nout therein, which might be seen at the Mayor\u2019s office. Clause 37 is as\nfollows:-\n\n   \u201cIt is furthermore enacted that should any of his Majesty\u2019s subjects\n   be found, after examination by the Head Ranger, to have had traffic of\n   any kind by way of sale or barter with any foreign devil, the said\n   Ranger, on being satisfied that such traffic has taken place, shall\n   forthwith, with or without the assistance of his under-rangers, convey\n   such subjects of his Majesty to the Blue Pool, bind them, weight them,\n   and fling them into it, without the formality of a trial, and shall\n   report the circumstances of the case to his Majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut we never bought anything from the prisoner. What evidence can you\nhave of this but the word of a foreign devil in such straits that he\nwould swear to anything?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe prisoner has nothing to do with it. I am convinced by this receipt\nin Professor Panky\u2019s handwriting which states that he and you jointly\npurchased his kit from the prisoner, and also this bag of gold nuggets\nworth about \u00a3100 in silver, for the absurdly small sum of \u00a34, 10s. in\nsilver. I am further convinced by this handkerchief marked with\nProfessor Hanky\u2019s name, in which was found a broken packet of dried\nleaves that are now at my office with the rest of the prisoner\u2019s kit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we were watched and dogged,\u201d said Hanky, \u201con Thursday evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat, sir,\u201d replied George, \u201cis my business, not yours.\u201d\n\nHere Panky laid his arms on the table, buried his head in them, and burst\ninto tears. Every one seemed aghast, but the Mayor, Yram, and Mrs.\nHumdrum saw that George was enjoying it all far too keenly to be serious.\nDr. Downie was still frightened (for George\u2019s surface manner was\nRhadamanthine) and did his utmost to console Panky. George pounded away\nruthlessly at his case.\n\n\u201cI say nothing about your having bought quails from the prisoner and\neaten them. As you justly remarked just now, there is no object in\npreferring a smaller charge when one must inflict the death penalty on a\nmore serious one. Still, Professor Hanky, these are bones of the quails\nyou ate as you sate opposite the prisoner on the side of the fire nearest\nSunch\u2019ston; these are Professor Panky\u2019s bones, with which I need not\ndisturb him. This is your permit, which was found upon the prisoner, and\nwhich there can be no doubt you sold him, having been bribed by the offer\nof the nuggets for--\u201d\n\n\u201cMonstrous, monstrous! Infamous falsehood! Who will believe such a\nchildish trumped up story!\u201d\n\n\u201cWho, sir, will believe anything else? You will hardly contend that you\ndid not know the nuggets were gold, and no one will believe you mean\nenough to have tried to get this poor man\u2019s property out of him for a\nsong--you knowing its value, and he not knowing the same. No one will\nbelieve that you did not know the man to be a foreign devil, or that he\ncould hoodwink two such learned Professors so cleverly as to get their\npermit out of them. Obviously he seduced you into selling him your\npermit, and--I presume because he wanted a little of our money--he made\nyou pay him for his kit. I am satisfied that you have not only had\ntraffic with a foreign devil, but traffic of a singularly atrocious kind,\nand this being so, I shall Blue-Pool both of you as soon as I can get you\nup to the Pool itself. The sooner we start the better. I shall gag you,\nand drive you up in a close carriage as far as the road goes; from that\npoint you can walk up, or be dragged up as you may prefer, but you will\nprobably find walking more comfortable.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d said Hanky, \u201ccome what may, I must be at the banquet. I am set\ndown to speak.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Mayor will explain that you have been taken somewhat suddenly\nunwell.\u201d\n\nHere Yram, who had been talking quietly with her husband, Dr. Downie, and\nMrs. Humdrum, motioned her son to silence.\n\n\u201cI feared,\u201d she said, \u201cthat difficulties might arise, though I did not\nforesee how seriously they would affect my guests. Let Mrs. Humdrum on\nour side, and Dr. Downie on that of the Professors, go into the next room\nand talk the matter quietly over; let us then see whether we cannot agree\nto be bound by their decision. I do not doubt but they will find some\nmeans of averting any catastrophe more serious--No, Professor Hanky, the\ndoors are locked--than a little perjury in which we shall all share and\nshare alike.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo what you like,\u201d said Hanky, looking for all the world like a rat\ncaught in a trap. As he spoke he seized a knife from the table, whereon\nGeorge pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and slipped them on to\nhis wrists before he well knew what was being done to him.\n\n\u201cGeorge,\u201d said the Mayor, \u201cthis is going too far. Do you mean to Blue-\nPool the Professors or no?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot if they will compromise. If they will be reasonable, they will not\nbe Blue-Pooled; if they think they can have everything their own way, the\neels will be at them before morning.\u201d\n\nA voice was heard from the head of Panky which he had buried in his arms\nupon the table. \u201cCo-co-co-compromise,\u201d it said; and the effect was so\ncomic that every one except Hanky smiled. Meanwhile Yram had conducted\nDr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum into an adjoining room.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX: MRS. HUMDRUM AND DR. DOWNIE PROPOSE A COMPROMISE, WHICH,\nAFTER AN AMENDMENT BY GEORGE, IS CARRIED NEM. CON.\n\n\nThey returned in about ten minutes, and Dr. Downie asked Mrs. Humdrum to\nsay what they had agreed to recommend.\n\n\u201cWe think,\u201d said she very demurely, \u201cthat the strict course would be to\ndrop the charge of poaching, and Blue-Pool both the Professors and the\nprisoner without delay.\n\n\u201cWe also think that the proper thing would be to place on record that the\nprisoner is the Sunchild--about which neither Dr. Downie nor I have a\nshadow of doubt.\n\n\u201cThese measures we hold to be the only legal ones, but at the same time\nwe do not recommend them. We think it would offend the public conscience\nif it came to be known, as it certainly would, that the Sunchild was\nviolently killed, on the very day that had seen us dedicate a temple in\nhis honour, and perhaps at the very hour when laudatory speeches were\nbeing made about him at the Mayor\u2019s banquet; we think also that we should\nstrain a good many points rather than Blue-Pool the Professors.\n\n\u201cNothing is perfect, and Truth makes her mistakes like other people; when\nshe goes wrong and reduces herself to such an absurdity as she has here\ndone, those who love her must save her from herself, correct her, and\nrehabilitate her.\n\n\u201cOur conclusion, therefore, is this:-\n\n\u201cThe prisoner must recant on oath his statement that he is the Sunchild.\nThe interpreter must be squared, or convinced of his mistake. The\nMayoress, Dr. Downie, I, and the gaoler (with the interpreter if we can\nmanage him), must depose on oath that the prisoner is not Higgs. This\nmust be our contribution to the rehabilitation of Truth.\n\n\u201cThe Professors must contribute as follows: They must swear that the\nprisoner is not the man they met with quails in his possession on\nThursday night. They must further swear that they have one or both of\nthem known him, off and on, for many years past, as a monomaniac with\nSunchildism on the brain but otherwise harmless. If they will do this,\nno proceedings are to be taken against them.\n\n\u201cThe Mayor\u2019s contribution shall be to reprimand the prisoner, and order\nhim to repeat his recantation in the new temple before the Manager and\nHead Cashier, and to confirm his statement on oath by kissing the\nreliquary containing the newly found relic.\n\n\u201cThe Ranger and the Master of the Gaol must contribute that the\nprisoner\u2019s measurements, and the marks found on his body, negative all\npossibility of his identity with the Sunchild, and that all the hair on\nthe covered as well as the uncovered parts of his body was found to be\njet black.\n\n\u201cWe advise further that the prisoner should have his nuggets and his kit\nreturned to him, and that the receipt given by the Professors together\nwith Professor Hanky\u2019s handkerchief be given back to the Professors.\n\n\u201cFurthermore, seeing that we should all of us like to have a quiet\nevening with the prisoner, we should petition the Mayor and Mayoress to\nask him to meet all here present at dinner to-morrow evening, after his\ndischarge, on the plea that Professors Hanky and Panky and Dr. Downie may\ngive him counsel, convince him of his folly, and if possible free him\nhenceforth from the monomania under which he now suffers.\n\n\u201cThe prisoner shall give his word of honour, never to return to Erewhon,\nnor to encourage any of his countrymen to do so. After the dinner to\nwhich we hope the Mayoress will invite us, the Ranger, if the night is\nfair, shall escort the prisoner as far as the statues, whence he will\nfind his own way home.\n\n\u201cThose who are in favour of this compromise hold up their hands.\u201d\n\nThe Mayor and Yram held up theirs. \u201cWill you hold up yours, Professor\nHanky,\u201d said George, \u201cif I release you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Hanky with a gruff laugh, whereon George released him and he\nheld up both his hands.\n\nPanky did not hold up his, whereon Hanky said, \u201cHold up your hands,\nPanky, can\u2019t you? We are really very well out of it.\u201d\n\nPanky, hardly lifting his head, sobbed out, \u201cI think we ought to have our\nf-f-fo-fo-four pounds ten returned to us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid, sir,\u201d said George, \u201cthat the prisoner must have spent the\ngreater part of this money.\u201d\n\nEvery one smiled, indeed it was all George could do to prevent himself\nfrom laughing outright. The Mayor brought out his purse, counted the\nmoney, and handed it good-humouredly to Panky, who gratefully received\nit, and said he would divide it with Hanky. He then held up his hands,\n\u201cBut,\u201d he added, turning to his brother Professor, \u201cso long as I live,\nHanky, I will never go out anywhere again with you.\u201d\n\nGeorge then turned to Hanky and said, \u201cI am afraid I must now trouble you\nand Professor Panky to depose on oath to the facts which Mrs. Humdrum and\nDr. Downie propose you should swear to in open court to-morrow. I knew\nyou would do so, and have brought an ordinary form, duly filled up, which\ndeclares that the prisoner is not the poacher you met on Thursday; and\nalso, that he has been long known to both of you as a harmless\nmonomaniac.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he brought out depositions to the above effect which he had\njust written in his office; he shewed the Professors that the form was\nthis time an innocent one, whereon they made no demur to signing and\nswearing in the presence of the Mayor, who attested.\n\n\u201cThe former depositions,\u201d said Hanky, \u201chad better be destroyed at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said George, \u201cmay hardly be, but so long as you stick to what you\nhave just sworn to, they will not be used against you.\u201d\n\nHanky scowled, but knew that he was powerless and said no more.\n\n* * * * *\n\nThe knowledge of what ensued did not reach me from my father. George and\nhis mother, seeing how ill he looked, and what a shock the events of the\nlast few days had given him, resolved that he should not know of the risk\nthat George was about to run; they therefore said nothing to him about\nit. What I shall now tell, I learned on the occasion already referred to\nwhen I had the happiness to meet George. I am in some doubt whether it\nis more fitly told here, or when I come to the interview between him and\nme; on the whole, however, I suppose chronological order is least\noutraged by dealing with it here.\n\nAs soon as the Professors had signed the second depositions, George said,\n\u201cI have not yet held up my hands, but I will hold them up if Mrs. Humdrum\nand Dr. Downie will approve of what I propose. Their compromise does not\ngo far enough, for swear as we may, it is sure to get noised abroad, with\nthe usual exaggerations, that the Sunchild has been here, and that he has\nbeen spirited away either by us, or by the sun his father. For one\nperson whom we know of as having identified him, there will be five, of\nwhom we know nothing, and whom we cannot square. Reports will reach the\nKing sooner or later, and I shall be sent for. Meanwhile the Professors\nwill be living in fear of intrigue on my part, and I, however\nunreasonably, shall fear the like on theirs. This should not be. I\nmean, therefore, on the day following my return from escorting the\nprisoner, to set out for the capital, see the King, and make a clean\nbreast of the whole matter. To this end I must have the nuggets, the\nprisoner\u2019s kit, his receipt, Professor Hanky\u2019s handkerchief, and, of\ncourse, the two depositions just sworn to by the Professors. I hope and\nthink that the King will pardon us all round; but whatever he may do I\nshall tell him everything.\u201d\n\nHanky was up in arms at once. \u201cSheer madness,\u201d he exclaimed. Yram and\nthe Mayor looked anxious; Dr. Downie eyed George as though he were some\ncurious creature, which he heard of but had never seen, and was rather\ndisposed to like. Mrs. Humdrum nodded her head approvingly.\n\n\u201cQuite right, George,\u201d said she, \u201ctell his Majesty everything.\u201d\n\nDr. Downie then said, \u201cYour son, Mayoress, is a very sensible fellow. I\nwill go with him, and with the Professors--for they had better come too:\neach will hear what the other says, and we will tell the truth, the whole\ntruth, and nothing but the truth. I am, as you know, a _persona grata_\nat Court; I will say that I advised your son\u2019s action. The King has\nliked him ever since he was a boy, and I am not much afraid about what he\nwill do. In public, no doubt we had better hush things up, but in\nprivate the King must be told.\u201d\n\nHanky fought hard for some time, but George told him that it did not\nmatter whether he agreed or no. \u201cYou can come,\u201d he said, \u201cor stop away,\njust as you please. If you come, you can hear and speak; if you do not,\nyou will not hear, but these two depositions will speak for you. Please\nyourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well,\u201d he said at last, \u201cI suppose we had better go.\u201d\n\nEvery one having now understood what his or her part was to be, Yram said\nthey had better shake hands all round and take a couple of hours\u2019 rest\nbefore getting ready for the banquet. George said that the Professors\ndid not shake hands with him very cordially, but the farce was gone\nthrough. When the hand-shaking was over, Dr. Downie and Mrs. Humdrum\nleft the house, and the Professors retired grumpily to their own room.\n\nI will say here that no harm happened either to George or the Professors\nin consequence of his having told the King, but will reserve particulars\nfor my concluding chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI: YRAM, ON GETTING RID OF HER GUESTS, GOES TO THE PRISON TO\nSEE MY FATHER\n\n\nYram did not take the advice she had given her guests, but set about\npreparing a basket of the best cold dainties she could find, including a\nbottle of choice wine that she knew my father would like; thus loaded she\nwent to the gaol, which she entered by her father\u2019s private entrance.\n\nIt was now about half-past four, so that much more must have been said\nand done after luncheon at the Mayor\u2019s than ever reached my father. The\nwonder is that he was able to collect so much. He, poor man, as soon as\nGeorge left him, flung himself on to the bed that was in his cell and lay\nthere wakeful, but not unquiet, till near the time when Yram reached the\ngaol.\n\nThe old gaoler came to tell him that she had come and would be glad to\nsee him; much as he dreaded the meeting there was no avoiding it, and in\na few minutes Yram stood before him.\n\nBoth were agitated, but Yram betrayed less of what she felt than my\nfather. He could only bow his head and cover his face with his hands.\nYram said, \u201cWe are old friends; take your hands from your face and let me\nsee you. There! That is well.\u201d\n\nShe took his right hand between both hers, looked at him with eyes full\nof kindness, and said softly--\n\n\u201cYou are not much changed, but you look haggard, worn, and ill; I am\nuneasy about you. Remember, you are among friends, who will see that no\nharm befalls you. There is a look in your eyes that frightens me.\u201d\n\nAs she spoke she took the wine out of her basket, and poured him out a\nglass, but rather to give him some little thing to distract his\nattention, than because she expected him to drink it--which he could not\ndo.\n\nShe never asked him whether he found her altered, or turned the\nconversation ever such a little on to herself; all was for him; to soothe\nand comfort him, not in words alone, but in look, manner, and voice. My\nfather knew that he could thank her best by controlling himself, and\nletting himself be soothed and comforted--at any rate so far as he could\nseem to be.\n\nUp to this time they had been standing, but now Yram, seeing my father\ncalmer, said, \u201cEnough, let us sit down.\u201d\n\nSo saying she seated herself at one end of the small table that was in\nthe cell, and motioned my father to sit opposite to her. \u201cThe light\nhurts you?\u201d she said, for the sun was coming into the room. \u201cChange\nplaces with me, I am a sun worshipper. No, we can move the table, and we\ncan then see each other better.\u201d\n\nThis done, she said, still very softly, \u201cAnd now tell me what it is all\nabout. Why have you come here?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me first,\u201d said my father, \u201cwhat befell you after I had been taken\naway. Why did you not send me word when you found what had happened? or\ncome after me? You know I should have married you at once, unless they\nbound me in fetters.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know you would; but you remember Mrs. Humdrum? Yes, I see you do. I\ntold her everything; it was she who saved me. We thought of you, but she\nsaw that it would not do. As I was to marry Mr. Strong, the more you\nwere lost sight of the better, but with George ever with me I have not\nbeen able to forget you. I might have been very happy with you, but I\ncould not have been happier than I have been ever since that short\ndreadful time was over. George must tell you the rest. I cannot do so.\nAll is well. I love my husband with my whole heart and soul, and he\nloves me with his. As between him and me, he knows everything; George is\nhis son, not yours; we have settled it so, though we both know otherwise;\nas between you and me, for this one hour, here, there is no use in\npretending that you are not George\u2019s father. I have said all I need say.\nNow, tell me what I asked you--Why are you here?\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear,\u201d said my father, set at rest by the sweetness of Yram\u2019s voice\nand manner--he told me he had never seen any one to compare with her\nexcept my mother--\u201cI fear, to do as much harm now as I did before, and\nwith as little wish to do any harm at all.\u201d\n\nHe then told her all that the reader knows, and explained how he had\nthought he could have gone about the country as a peasant, and seen how\nshe herself had fared, without her, or any one, even suspecting that he\nwas in the country.\n\n\u201cYou say your wife is dead, and that she left you with a son--is he like\nGeorge?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn mind and disposition, wonderfully; in appearance, no; he is dark and\ntakes after his mother, and though he is handsome, he is not so\ngood-looking as George.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo one,\u201d said George\u2019s mother, \u201cever was, or ever will be, and he is as\ngood as he looks.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should not have believed you if you had said he was not.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is right. I am glad you are proud of him. He irradiates the lives\nof every one of us.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the mere knowledge that he exists will irradiate the rest of mine.\u201d\n\n\u201cLong may it do so. Let us now talk about this morning--did you mean to\ndeclare yourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know what I meant; what I most cared about was the doing what I\nthought George would wish to see his father do.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou did that; but he says he told you not to say who you were.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo he did, but I knew what he would think right. He was uppermost in my\nthoughts all the time.\u201d\n\nYram smiled, and said, \u201cGeorge is a dangerous person; you were both of\nyou very foolish; one as bad as the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know. I do not know anything. It is beyond me; but I am at\npeace about it, and hope I shall do the like again to-morrow before the\nMayor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI heartily hope you will do nothing of the kind. George tells me you\nhave promised him to be good and to do as we bid you.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I will; but he will not tell me to say that I am not what I am.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, he will, and I will tell you why. If we permit you to be Higgs the\nSunchild, he must either throw his own father into the Blue Pool--which\nhe will not do--or run great risk of being thrown into it himself, for\nnot having Blue-Pooled a foreigner. I am afraid we shall have to make\nyou do a good deal that neither you nor we shall like.\u201d\n\nShe then told him briefly of what had passed after luncheon at her house,\nand what it had been settled to do, leaving George to tell the details\nwhile escorting him towards the statues on the following evening. She\nsaid that every one would be so completely in every one else\u2019s power that\nthere was no fear of any one\u2019s turning traitor. But she said nothing\nabout George\u2019s intention of setting out for the capital on Wednesday\nmorning to tell the whole story to the King.\n\n\u201cNow,\u201d she said, when she had told him as much as was necessary, \u201cbe\ngood, and do as you said you would.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will. I will deny myself, not once, nor twice, but as often as is\nnecessary. I will kiss the reliquary, and when I meet Hanky and Panky at\nyour table, I will be sworn brother to them--so long, that is, as George\nis out of hearing; for I cannot lie well to them when he is listening.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, you can. He will understand all about it; he enjoys falsehood\nas well as we all do, and has the nicest sense of when to lie and when\nnot to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat gift can be more invaluable?\u201d\n\nMy father, knowing that he might not have another chance of seeing Yram\nalone, now changed the conversation.\n\n\u201cI have something,\u201d he said, \u201cfor George, but he must know nothing about\nit till after I am gone.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke, he took from his pockets the nine small bags of nuggets that\nremained to him.\n\n\u201cBut this,\u201d said Yram, \u201cbeing gold, is a large sum: can you indeed spare\nit, and do you really wish George to have it all?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall be very unhappy if he does not, but he must know nothing about\nit till I am out of Erewhon.\u201d\n\nMy father then explained to her that he was now very rich, and would have\nbrought ten times as much, if he had known of George\u2019s existence. \u201cThen,\u201d\nsaid Yram, musing, \u201cif you are rich, I accept and thank you heartily on\nhis behalf. I can see a reason for his not knowing what you are giving\nhim at present, but it is too long to tell.\u201d\n\nThe reason was, that if George knew of this gold before he saw the King,\nhe would be sure to tell him of it, and the King might claim it, for\nGeorge would never explain that it was a gift from father to son; whereas\nif the King had once pardoned him, he would not be so squeamish as to\nopen up the whole thing again with a postscript to his confession. But\nof this she said not a word.\n\nMy father then told her of the box of sovereigns that he had left in his\nsaddle-bags. \u201cThey are coined,\u201d he said, \u201cand George will have to melt\nthem down, but he will find some way of doing this. They will be worth\nrather more than these nine bags of nuggets.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe difficulty will be to get him to go down and fetch them, for it is\nagainst his oath to go far beyond the statues. If you could be taken\nfaint and say you wanted help, he would see you to your camping ground\nwithout a word, but he would be angry if he found he had been tricked\ninto breaking his oath in order that money might be given him. It would\nnever do. Besides, there would not be time, for he must be back here on\nTuesday night. No; if he breaks his oath he must do it with his eyes\nopen--and he will do it later on--or I will go and fetch the money for\nhim myself. He is in love with a grand-daughter of Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s, and\nthis sum, together with what you are now leaving with me, will make him a\nwell-to-do man. I have always been unhappy about his having any of the\nMayor\u2019s money, and his salary was not quite enough for him to marry on.\nWhat can I say to thank you?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me, please, about Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter. You like her as a\nwife for George?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbsolutely. She is just such another as her grandmother must have been.\nShe and George have been sworn lovers ever since he was ten, and she\neight. The only drawback is that her mother, Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s second\ndaughter, married for love, and there are many children, so that there\nwill be no money with her; but what you are leaving will make everything\nquite easy, for he will sell the gold at once. I am so glad about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you ask Mrs. Humdrum to bring her grand-daughter with her to-morrow\nevening?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid not, for we shall want to talk freely at dinner, and she\nmust not know that you are the Sunchild; she shall come to my house in\nthe afternoon and you can see her then. You will be quite happy about\nher, but of course she must not know that you are her father-in-law that\nis to be.\u201d\n\n\u201cOne thing more. As George must know nothing about the sovereigns, I\nmust tell you how I will hide them. They are in a silver box, which I\nwill bind to the bough of some tree close to my camp; or if I can find a\ntree with a hole in it I will drop the box into the hole. He cannot miss\nmy camp; he has only to follow the stream that runs down from the pass\ntill it gets near a large river, and on a small triangular patch of flat\nground, he will see the ashes of my camp fire, a few yards away from the\nstream on his right hand as he descends. In whatever tree I may hide the\nbox, I will strew wood ashes for some yards in a straight line towards\nit. I will then light another fire underneath, and blaze the tree with a\nknife that I have left at my camping ground. He is sure to find it.\u201d\n\nYram again thanked him, and then my father, to change the conversation,\nasked whether she thought that George really would have Blue-Pooled the\nProfessors.\n\n\u201cThere is no knowing,\u201d said Yram. \u201cHe is the gentlest creature living\ntill some great provocation rouses him, and I never saw him hate and\ndespise any one as he does the Professors. Much of what he said was\nmerely put on, for he knew the Professors must yield. I do not like his\never having to throw any one into that horrid place, no more does he, but\nthe Rangership is exactly the sort of thing to suit him, and the opening\nwas too good to lose. I must now leave you, and get ready for the\nMayor\u2019s banquet. We shall meet again to-morrow evening. Try and eat\nwhat I have brought you in this basket. I hope you will like the wine.\u201d\nShe put out her hand, which my father took, and in another moment she was\ngone, for she saw a look in his face as though he would fain have asked\nher to let him once more press his lips to hers. Had he done this,\nwithout thinking about it, it is likely enough she would not have been\nill pleased. But who can say?\n\nFor the rest of the evening my father was left very much to his own not\ntoo comfortable reflections. He spent part of it in posting up the notes\nfrom which, as well as from his own mouth, my story is in great part\ntaken. The good things that Yram had left with him, and his pipe, which\nshe had told him he might smoke quite freely, occupied another part, and\nby ten o\u2019clock he went to bed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII: MAINLY OCCUPIED WITH A VERACIOUS EXTRACT FROM A\nSUNCH\u2019STONIAN JOURNAL\n\n\nWhile my father was thus wiling away the hours in his cell, the whole\ntown was being illuminated in his honour, and not more than a couple of\nhundred yards off, at the Mayor\u2019s banquet, he was being extolled as a\nsuperhuman being.\n\nThe banquet, which was at the town hall, was indeed a very brilliant\naffair, but the little space that is left me forbids my saying more than\nthat Hanky made what was considered the speech of the evening, and\nbetrayed no sign of ill effects from the bad quarter of an hour which he\nhad spent so recently. Not a trace was to be seen of any desire on his\npart to change his tone as regards Sunchildism--as, for example, to\nminimize the importance of the relic, or to remind his hearers that\nthough the chariot and horses had undoubtedly come down from the sky and\ncarried away my father and mother, yet that the earlier stage of the\nascent had been made in a balloon. It almost seemed, so George told my\nfather, as though he had resolved that he would speak lies, all lies, and\nnothing but lies.\n\nPanky, who was also to have spoken, was excused by the Mayor on the\nground that the great heat and the excitement of the day\u2019s proceedings\nhad quite robbed him of his voice.\n\nDr. Downie had a jumping cat before his mental vision. He spoke quietly\nand sensibly, dwelling chiefly on the benefits that had already accrued\nto the kingdom through the abolition of the edicts against machinery, and\nthe great developments which he foresaw as probable in the near future.\nHe held up the Sunchild\u2019s example, and his ethical teaching, to the\nimitation and admiration of his hearers, but he said nothing about the\nmiraculous element in my father\u2019s career, on which he declared that his\nfriend Professor Hanky had already so eloquently enlarged as to make\nfurther allusion to it superfluous.\n\nThe reader knows what was to happen on the following morning. The\nprogramme concerted at the Mayor\u2019s was strictly adhered to. The\nfollowing account, however, which appeared in the Sunch\u2019ston bi-weekly\nnewspaper two days after my father had left, was given me by George a\nyear later, on the occasion of that interview to which I have already\nmore than once referred. There were other accounts in other papers, but\nthe one I am giving departs the least widely from the facts. It ran:-\n\n\u201c_The close of a disagreeable incident_.--Our readers will remember that\non Sunday last during the solemn inauguration of the temple now dedicated\nto the Sunchild, an individual on the front bench of those set apart for\nthe public suddenly interrupted Professor Hanky\u2019s eloquent sermon by\ndeclaring himself to be the Sunchild, and saying that he had come down\nfrom the sun to sanctify by his presence the glorious fane which the\npiety of our fellow-citizens and others has erected in his honour.\n\n\u201cWild rumours obtained credence throughout the congregation to the effect\nthat this person was none other than the Sunchild himself, and in spite\nof the fact that his complexion and the colour of his hair showed this to\nbe impossible, more than one person was carried away by the excitement of\nthe moment, and by some few points of resemblance between the stranger\nand the Sunchild. Under the influence of this belief, they were\npreparing to give him the honour which they supposed justly due to him,\nwhen to the surprise of every one he was taken into custody by the\ndeservedly popular Ranger of the King\u2019s preserves, and in the course of\nthe afternoon it became generally known that he had been arrested on the\ncharge of being one of a gang of poachers who have been known for some\ntime past to be making much havoc among the quails on the preserves.\n\n\u201cThis offence, at all times deplored by those who desire that his Majesty\nshould enjoy good sport when he honours us with a visit, is doubly\ndeplorable during the season when, on the higher parts of the preserves,\nthe young birds are not yet able to shift for themselves; the Ranger,\ntherefore, is indefatigable in his efforts to break up the gang, and with\nthis end in view, for the last fortnight has been out night and day on\nthe remoter sections of the forest--little suspecting that the marauders\nwould venture so near Sunch\u2019ston as it now seems they have done. It is\nto his extreme anxiety to detect and punish these miscreants that we must\nascribe the arrest of a man, who, however foolish, and indeed guilty, he\nis in other respects, is innocent of the particular crime imputed to him.\nThe circumstances that led to his arrest have reached us from an\nexceptionally well-informed source, and are as follows:-\n\n\u201cOur distinguished guests, Professors Hanky and Panky, both of them\njustly celebrated archaeologists, had availed themselves of the\nopportunity afforded them by their visit to Sunch\u2019ston, to inspect the\nmysterious statues at the head of the stream that comes down near this\ncity, and which have hitherto baffled all those who have tried to\nascertain their date and purpose.\n\n\u201cOn their descent after a fatiguing day the Professors were benighted,\nand lost their way. Seeing the light of a small fire among some trees\nnear them, they made towards it, hoping to be directed rightly, and found\na man, respectably dressed, sitting by the fire with several brace of\nquails beside him, some of them plucked. Believing that in spite of his\nappearance, which would not have led them to suppose that he was a\npoacher, he must unquestionably be one, they hurriedly enquired their\nway, intending to leave him as soon as they had got their answer; he,\nhowever, attacked them, or made as though he would do so, and said he\nwould show them a way which they should be in no fear of losing, whereon\nProfessor Hanky, with a well-directed blow, felled him to the ground. The\ntwo Professors, fearing that other poachers might come to his assistance,\nmade off as nearly as they could guess in the direction of Sunch\u2019ston.\nWhen they had gone a mile or two onward at haphazard, they sat down under\na large tree, and waited till day began to break; they then resumed their\njourney, and before long struck a path which led them to a spot from\nwhich they could see the towers of the new temple.\n\n\u201cFatigued though they were, they waited before taking the rest of which\nthey stood much in need, till they had reported their adventure at the\nRanger\u2019s office. The Ranger was still out on the preserves, but\nimmediately on his return on Saturday morning he read the description of\nthe poacher\u2019s appearance and dress, about which last, however, the only\nremarkable feature was that it was better than a poacher might be\nexpected to possess, and gave an air of respectability to the wearer that\nmight easily disarm suspicion.\n\n\u201cThe Ranger made enquiries at all the inns in Sunch\u2019ston, and at length\nsucceeded in hearing of a stranger who appeared to correspond with the\npoacher whom the Professors had seen; but the man had already left, and\nthough the Ranger did his best to trace him he did not succeed. On\nSunday morning, however, he observed the prisoner, and found that he\nanswered the description given by the Professors; he therefore arrested\nhim quietly in the temple, but told him that he should not take him to\nprison till the service was over. The man said he would come quietly\ninasmuch as he should easily be able to prove his innocence. In the\nmeantime, however, he professed the utmost anxiety to hear Professor\nHanky\u2019s sermon, which he said he believed would concern him nearly. The\nRanger paid no attention to this, and was as much astounded as the rest\nof the congregation were, when immediately after one of Professor Hanky\u2019s\nmost eloquent passages, the man started up and declared himself to be the\nSunchild. On this the Ranger took him away at once, and for the man\u2019s\nown protection hurried him off to prison.\n\n\u201cProfessor Hanky was so much shocked at such outrageous conduct, that for\nthe moment he failed to recognise the offender; after a few seconds,\nhowever, he grasped the situation, and knew him to be one who on previous\noccasions, near Bridgeford, had done what he was now doing. It seems\nthat he is notorious in the neighbourhood of Bridgeford, as a monomaniac\nwho is so deeply impressed with the beauty of the Sunchild\u2019s\ncharacter--and we presume also of his own--as to believe that he is\nhimself the Sunchild.\n\n\u201cRecovering almost instantly from the shock the interruption had given\nhim, the learned Professor calmed his hearers by acquainting them with\nthe facts of the case, and continued his sermon to the delight of all who\nheard it. We should say, however, that the gentleman who twenty years\nago instructed the Sunchild in the Erewhonian language, was so struck\nwith some few points of resemblance between the stranger, and his former\npupil, that he acclaimed him, and was removed forcibly by the vergers.\n\n\u201cOn Monday morning the prisoner was brought up before the Mayor. We\ncannot say whether it was the sobering effect of prison walls, or whether\nhe had been drinking before he entered the temple, and had now had time\nenough to recover himself--at any rate for some reason or other he was\nabjectly penitent when his case came on for hearing. The charge of\npoaching was first gone into, but was immediately disposed of by the\nevidence of the two Professors, who stated that the prisoner bore no\nresemblance to the poacher they had seen, save that he was about the same\nheight and age, and was respectably dressed.\n\n\u201cThe charge of disturbing the congregation by declaring himself the\nSunchild was then proceeded with, and unnecessary as it may appear to be,\nit was thought advisable to prevent all possibility of the man\u2019s\nassertion being accepted by the ignorant as true, at some later date,\nwhen those who could prove its falsehood were no longer living. The\nprisoner, therefore, was removed to his cell, and there measured by the\nMaster of the Gaol, and the Ranger in the presence of the Mayor, who\nattested the accuracy of the measurements. Not one single one of them\ncorresponded with those recorded of the Sunchild himself, and a few marks\nsuch as moles, and permanent scars on the Sunchild\u2019s body were not found\non the prisoner\u2019s. Furthermore the prisoner was shaggy-breasted, with\nmuch coarse jet black hair on the fore-arms and from the knees downwards,\nwhereas the Sunchild had little hair save on his head, and what little\nthere was, was fine, and very light in colour.\n\n\u201cConfronted with these discrepancies, the gentleman who had taught the\nSunchild our language was convinced of his mistake, though he still\nmaintained that there was some superficial likeness between his former\npupil and the prisoner. Here he was confirmed by the Master of the Gaol,\nthe Mayoress, Mrs. Humdrum, and Professors Hanky and Panky, who all of\nthem could see what the interpreter meant, but denied that the prisoner\ncould be mistaken for the Sunchild for more than a few seconds. No doubt\nthe prisoner\u2019s unhappy delusion has been fostered, if not entirely\ncaused, by his having been repeatedly told that he was like the Sunchild.\nThe celebrated Dr. Downie, who well remembers the Sunchild, was also\nexamined, and gave his evidence with so much convincing detail as to make\nit unnecessary to call further witnesses.\n\n\u201cIt having been thus once for all officially and authoritatively placed\non record that the prisoner was not the Sunchild, Professors Hanky and\nPanky then identified him as a well known monomaniac on the subject of\nSunchildism, who in other respects was harmless. We withhold his name\nand place of abode, out of consideration for the well known and highly\nrespectable family to which he belongs. The prisoner admitted with much\ncontrition that he had made a disturbance in the temple, but pleaded that\nhe had been carried away by the eloquence of Professor Hanky; he promised\nto avoid all like offence in future, and threw himself on the mercy of\nthe court.\n\n\u201cThe Mayor, unwilling that Sunday\u2019s memorable ceremony should be the\noccasion of a serious punishment to any of those who took part in it,\nreprimanded the prisoner in a few severe but not unkindly words,\ninflicted a fine of forty shillings, and ordered that the prisoner should\nbe taken directly to the temple, where he should confess his folly to the\nManager and Head Cashier, and confirm his words by kissing the reliquary\nin which the newly found relic has been placed. The prisoner being\nunable to pay the fine, some of the ladies and gentlemen in court kindly\nraised the amount amongst them, in pity for the poor creature\u2019s obvious\ncontrition, rather than see him sent to prison for a month in default of\npayment.\n\n\u201cThe prisoner was then conducted to the temple, followed by a\nconsiderable number of people. Strange to say, in spite of the\noverwhelming evidence that they had just heard, some few among the\nfollowers, whose love of the marvellous overpowered their reason, still\nmaintained that the prisoner was the Sunchild. Nothing could be more\ndecorous than the prisoner\u2019s behaviour when, after hearing the\nrecantation that was read out to him by the Manager, he signed the\ndocument with his name and address, which we again withhold, and kissed\nthe reliquary in confirmation of his words.\n\n\u201cThe Mayor then declared the prisoner to be at liberty. When he had done\nso he said, \u2018I strongly urge you to place yourself under my protection\nfor the present, that you may be freed from the impertinent folly and\ncuriosity of some whose infatuation might lead you from that better mind\nto which I believe you are now happily restored. I wish you to remain\nfor some few hours secluded in the privacy of my own study, where Dr.\nDownie and the two excellent Professors will administer that ghostly\ncounsel to you, which will be likely to protect you from any return of\nyour unhappy delusion.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe man humbly bowed assent, and was taken by the Mayor\u2019s younger sons\nto the Mayor\u2019s own house, where he was duly cared for. About midnight,\nwhen all was quiet, he was conducted to the outskirts of the town towards\nClearwater, and furnished with enough money to provide for his more\npressing necessities till he could reach some relatives who reside three\nor four days\u2019 walk down on the road towards the capital. He desired the\nman who accompanied him to repeat to the Mayor his heartfelt thanks for\nthe forbearance and generosity with which he had been treated. The\nremembrance of this, he said, should be ever present with him, and he was\nconfident would protect him if his unhappy monomania shewed any signs of\nreturning.\n\n\u201cLet us now, however, remind our readers that the poacher who threatened\nProfessors Hanky and Panky\u2019s life on Thursday evening last is still at\nlarge. He is evidently a man of desperate character, and it is to be\nhoped that our fellow-citizens will give immediate information at the\nRanger\u2019s office if they see any stranger in the neighbourhood of the\npreserves whom they may have reasonable grounds for suspecting.\n\n\u201cP.S.--As we are on the point of going to press we learn that a dangerous\nlunatic, who has been for some years confined in the Clearwater asylum,\nsucceeded in escaping on the night of Wednesday last, and it is surmised\nwith much probability, that this was the man who threatened the two\nProfessors on Thursday evening. His being alone, his having dared to\nlight a fire, probably to cook quails which he had been driven to kill\nfrom stress of hunger, the respectability of his dress, and the fury with\nwhich he would have attacked the two Professors single-handed, but for\nProfessor Hanky\u2019s presence of mind in giving him a knock-down blow, all\npoint in the direction of thinking that he was no true poacher, but, what\nis even more dangerous--a madman at large. We have not received any\nparticulars as to the man\u2019s appearance, nor the clothes he was wearing,\nbut we have little doubt that these will confirm the surmise to which we\nnow give publicity. If it is correct it becomes doubly incumbent on all\nour fellow-citizens to be both on the watch, and on their guard.\n\n\u201cWe may add that the man was fully believed to have taken the direction\ntowards the capital; hence no attempts were made to look for him in the\nneighbourhood of Sunch\u2019ston, until news of the threatened attack on the\nProfessors led the keeper of the asylum to feel confident that he had\nhitherto been on a wrong scent.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII: MY FATHER IS ESCORTED TO THE MAYOR\u2019S HOUSE, AND IS\nINTRODUCED TO A FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW\n\n\nMy father said he was followed to the Mayor\u2019s house by a good many\npeople, whom the Mayor\u2019s sons in vain tried to get rid of. One or two of\nthese still persisted in saying he was the Sunchild--whereon another\nsaid, \u201cBut his hair is black.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d was the answer, \u201cbut a man can dye his hair, can he not? look at\nhis blue eyes and his eyelashes?\u201d\n\nMy father was doubting whether he ought not to again deny his identity\nout of loyalty to the Mayor and Yram, when George\u2019s next brother said,\n\u201cPay no attention to them, but step out as fast as you can.\u201d This\nsettled the matter, and in a few minutes they were at the Mayor\u2019s, where\nthe young men took him into the study; the elder said with a smile, \u201cWe\nshould like to stay and talk to you, but my mother said we were not to do\nso.\u201d Whereon they left him much to his regret, but he gathered rightly\nthat they had not been officially told who he was, and were to be left to\nthink what they liked, at any rate for the present.\n\nIn a few minutes the Mayor entered, and going straight up to my father\nshook him cordially by the hand.\n\n\u201cI have brought you this morning\u2019s paper,\u201d said he. \u201cYou will find a\nfull report of Professor Hanky\u2019s sermon, and of the speeches at last\nnight\u2019s banquet. You see they pass over your little interruption with\nhardly a word, but I dare say they will have made up their minds about it\nall by Thursday\u2019s issue.\u201d\n\nHe laughed as he produced the paper--which my father brought home with\nhim, and without which I should not have been able to report Hanky\u2019s\nsermon as fully as I have done. But my father could not let things pass\nover thus lightly.\n\n\u201cI thank you,\u201d he said, \u201cbut I have much more to thank you for, and know\nnot how to do it.\u201d\n\n\u201cCan you not trust me to take everything as said?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but I cannot trust myself not to be haunted if I do not say--or at\nany rate try to say--some part of what I ought to say.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well; then I will say something myself. I have a small joke, the\nonly one I ever made, which I inflict periodically upon my wife. You,\nand I suppose George, are the only two other people in the world to whom\nit can ever be told; let me see, then, if I cannot break the ice with it.\nIt is this. Some men have twin sons; George in this topsy turvey world\nof ours has twin fathers--you by luck, and me by cunning. I see you\nsmile; give me your hand.\u201d\n\nMy father took the Mayor\u2019s hand between both his own. \u201cHad I been in\nyour place,\u201d he said, \u201cI should be glad to hope that I might have done as\nyou did.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I,\u201d said the Mayor, more readily than might have been expected of\nhim, \u201cfear that if I had been in yours--I should have made it the proper\nthing for you to do. There! The ice is well broken, and now for\nbusiness. You will lunch with us, and dine in the evening. I have given\nit out that you are of good family, so there is nothing odd in this. At\nlunch you will not be the Sunchild, for my younger children will be\nthere; at dinner all present will know who you are, so we shall be free\nas soon as the servants are out of the room.\n\n\u201cI am sorry, but I must send you away with George as soon as the streets\nare empty--say at midnight--for the excitement is too great to allow of\nyour staying longer. We must keep your rug and the things you cook with,\nbut my wife will find you what will serve your turn. There is no moon,\nso you and George will camp out as soon as you get well on to the\npreserves; the weather is hot, and you will neither of you take any harm.\nTo-morrow by mid-day you will be at the statues, where George must bid\nyou good-bye, for he must be at Sunch\u2019ston to-morrow night. You will\ndoubtless get safely home; I wish with all my heart that I could hear of\nyour having done so, but this, I fear, may not be.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d replied my father, \u201cbut there is something I should yet say.\nThe Mayoress has no doubt told you of some gold, coined and uncoined,\nthat I am leaving for George. She will also have told you that I am\nrich; this being so, I should have brought him much more, if I had known\nthat there was any such person. You have other children; if you leave\nhim anything, you will be taking it away from your own flesh and blood;\nif you leave him nothing, it will be a slur upon him. I must therefore\nsend you enough gold, to provide for George as your other children will\nbe provided for; you can settle it upon him at once, and make it clear\nthat the settlement is instead of provision for him by will. The\ndifficulty is in the getting the gold into Erewhon, and until it is\nactually here, he must know nothing about it.\u201d\n\nI have no space for the discussion that followed. In the end it was\nsettled that George was to have \u00a32000 in gold, which the Mayor declared\nto be too much, and my father too little. Both, however, were agreed\nthat Erewhon would before long be compelled to enter into relations\nwith foreign countries, in which case the value of gold would decline\nso much as to make \u00a32000 worth little more than it would be in England.\nThe Mayor proposed to buy land with it, which he would hand over to\nGeorge as a gift from himself, and this my father at once acceded to.\nAll sorts of questions such as will occur to the reader were raised and\nsettled, but I must beg him to be content with knowing that everything\nwas arranged with the good sense that two such men were sure to bring\nto bear upon it.\n\nThe getting the gold into Erewhon was to be managed thus. George was to\nknow nothing, but a promise was to be got from him that at noon on the\nfollowing New Year\u2019s day, or whatever day might be agreed upon, he\nwould be at the statues, where either my father or myself would meet\nhim, spend a couple of hours with him, and then return. Whoever met\nGeorge was to bring the gold as though it were for the Mayor, and\nGeorge could be trusted to be human enough to bring it down, when he\nsaw that it would be left where it was if he did not do so.\n\n\u201cHe will kick a good deal,\u201d said the Mayor, \u201cat first, but he will come\nround in the end.\u201d\n\nLuncheon was now announced. My father was feeling faint and ill; more\nthan once during the forenoon he had had a return of the strange\ngiddiness and momentary loss of memory which had already twice attacked\nhim, but he had recovered in each case so quickly that no one had seen\nhe was unwell. He, poor man, did not yet know what serious brain\nexhaustion these attacks betokened, and finding himself in his usual\nhealth as soon as they passed away, set them down as simply effects of\nfatigue and undue excitement.\n\nGeorge did not lunch with the others. Yram explained that he had to draw\nup a report which would occupy him till dinner time. Her three other\nsons, and her three lovely daughters, were there. My father was\ndelighted with all of them, for they made friends with him at once. He\nhad feared that he would have been disgraced in their eyes, by his having\njust come from prison, but whatever they may have thought, no trace of\nanything but a little engaging timidity on the girls\u2019 part was to be\nseen. The two elder boys--or rather young men, for they seemed fully\ngrown, though, like George, not yet bearded--treated him as already an\nold acquaintance, while the youngest, a lad of fourteen, walked straight\nup to him, put out his hand, and said, \u201cHow do you do, sir?\u201d with a\npretty blush that went straight to my father\u2019s heart.\n\n\u201cThese boys,\u201d he said to Yram aside, \u201cwho have nothing to blush for--see\nhow the blood mantles into their young cheeks, while I, who should blush\nat being spoken to by them, cannot do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not talk nonsense,\u201d said Yram, with mock severity.\n\nBut it was no nonsense to my poor father. He was awed at the goodness\nand beauty with which he found himself surrounded. His thoughts were too\nfull of what had been, what was, and what was yet to be, to let him\ndevote himself to these young people as he would dearly have liked to do.\nHe could only look at them, wonder at them, fall in love with them, and\nthank heaven that George had been brought up in such a household.\n\nWhen luncheon was over, Yram said, \u201cI will now send you to a room where\nyou can lie down and go to sleep for a few hours. You will be out late\nto-night, and had better rest while you can. Do you remember the drink\nyou taught us to make of corn parched and ground? You used to say you\nliked it. A cup shall be brought to your room at about five, for you\nmust try and sleep till then. If you notice a little box on the dressing-\ntable of your room, you will open it or no as you like. About half-past\nfive there will be a visitor, whose name you can guess, but I shall not\nlet her stay long with you. Here comes the servant to take you to your\nroom.\u201d On this she smiled, and turned somewhat hurriedly away.\n\nMy father on reaching his room went to the dressing-table, where he saw a\nsmall unpretending box, which he immediately opened. On the top was a\npaper with the words, \u201cLook--say nothing--forget.\u201d Beneath this was some\ncotton wool, and then--the two buttons and the lock of his own hair, that\nhe had given Yram when he said good-bye to her.\n\nThe ghost of the lock that Yram had then given him, rose from the dead,\nand smote him as with a whip across the face. On what dust-heap had it\nnot been thrown how many long years ago? Then she had never forgotten\nhim? to have been remembered all these years by such a woman as that, and\nnever to have heeded it--never to have found out what she was though he\nhad seen her day after day for months. Ah! but she was then still\nbudding. That was no excuse. If a loveable woman--aye, or any woman--has\nloved a man, even though he cannot marry her, or even wish to do so, at\nany rate let him not forget her--and he had forgotten Yram as completely\nuntil the last few days, as though he had never seen her. He took her\nlittle missive, and under \u201cLook,\u201d he wrote, \u201cI have;\u201d under \u201cSay\nnothing,\u201d \u201cI will;\u201d under \u201cforget,\u201d \u201cnever.\u201d \u201cAnd I never shall,\u201d he\nsaid to himself, as he replaced the box upon the table. He then lay down\nto rest upon the bed, but he could get no sleep.\n\nWhen the servant brought him his imitation coffee--an imitation so\nsuccessful that Yram made him a packet of it to replace the tea that he\nmust leave behind him--he rose and presently came downstairs into the\ndrawing-room, where he found Yram and Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter, of\nwhom I will say nothing, for I have never seen her, and know nothing\nabout her, except that my father found her a sweet-looking girl, of\ngraceful figure and very attractive expression. He was quite happy about\nher, but she was too young and shy to make it possible for him to do more\nthan admire her appearance, and take Yram\u2019s word for it that she was as\ngood as she looked.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV: AFTER DINNER, DR. DOWNIE AND THE PROFESSORS WOULD BE GLAD\nTO KNOW WHAT IS TO BE DONE ABOUT SUNCHILDISM\n\n\nIt was about six when George\u2019s _fianc\u00e9e_ left the house, and as soon as\nshe had done so, Yram began to see about the rug and the best substitutes\nshe could find for the billy and pannikin. She had a basket packed with\nall that my father and George would want to eat and drink while on the\npreserves, and enough of everything, except meat, to keep my father going\ntill he could reach the shepherd\u2019s hut of which I have already spoken.\nMeat would not keep, and my father could get plenty of flappers--i.e.\nducks that cannot yet fly--when he was on the river-bed down below.\n\nThe above preparations had not been made very long, before Mrs. Humdrum\narrived, followed presently by Dr. Downie and in due course by the\nProfessors, who were still staying in the house. My father remembered\nMrs. Humdrum\u2019s good honest face, but could not bring Dr. Downie to his\nrecollection till the Doctor told him when and where they had met, and\nthen he could only very uncertainly recall him, though he vowed that he\ncould now do so perfectly well.\n\n\u201cAt any rate,\u201d said Hanky, advancing towards him with his best Bridgeford\nmanner, \u201cyou will not have forgotten meeting my brother Professor and\nmyself.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has been rather a forgetting sort of a morning,\u201d said my father\ndemurely, \u201cbut I can remember that much, and am delighted to renew my\nacquaintance with both of you.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he shook hands with both Professors.\n\nGeorge was a little late, but when he came, dinner was announced. My\nfather sat on Yram\u2019s right-hand, Dr. Downie on her left. George was next\nmy father, with Mrs. Humdrum opposite to him. The Professors sat one on\neither side of the Mayor. During dinner the conversation turned almost\nentirely on my father\u2019s flight, his narrow escape from drowning, and his\nadventures on his return to England; about these last my father was very\nreticent, for he said nothing about his book, and antedated his accession\nof wealth by some fifteen years, but as he walked up towards the statues\nwith George he told him everything.\n\nMy father repeatedly tried to turn the conversation from himself, but\nMrs. Humdrum and Yram wanted to know about Nna Haras, as they persisted\nin calling my mother--how she endured her terrible experiences in the\nballoon, when she and my father were married, all about my unworthy self,\nand England generally. No matter how often he began to ask questions\nabout the Nosnibors and other old acquaintances, both the ladies soon\nwent back to his own adventures. He succeeded, however, in learning that\nMr. Nosnibor was dead, and Zulora, an old maid of the most unattractive\nkind, who had persistently refused to accept Sunchildism, while Mrs.\nNosnibor was the recipient of honours hardly inferior to those conferred\nby the people at large on my father and mother, with whom, indeed, she\nbelieved herself to have frequent interviews by way of visionary\nrevelations. So intolerable were these revelations to Zulora, that a\nseparate establishment had been provided for her. George said to my\nfather quietly--\u201cDo you know I begin to think that Zulora must be rather\na nice person.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps,\u201d said my father grimly, \u201cbut my wife and I did not find it\nout.\u201d\n\nWhen the ladies left the room, Dr. Downie took Yram\u2019s seat, and Hanky Dr.\nDownie\u2019s; the Mayor took Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s, leaving my father, George, and\nPanky, in their old places. Almost immediately, Dr. Downie said, \u201cAnd\nnow, Mr, Higgs, tell us, as a man of the world, what we are to do about\nSunchildism?\u201d\n\nMy father smiled at this. \u201cYou know, my dear sir, as well as I do, that\nthe proper thing would be to put me back in prison, and keep me there\ntill you can send me down to the capital. You should eat your oaths of\nthis morning, as I would eat mine; tell every one here who I am; let them\nsee that my hair has been dyed; get all who knew me when I was here\nbefore to come and see me; appoint an unimpeachable committee to examine\nthe record of my marks and measurements, and compare it with those of my\nown body. You should let me be seen in every town at which I lodged on\nmy way down, and tell people that you had made a mistake. When you get\nto the capital, hand me over to the King\u2019s tender mercies and say that\nour oaths were only taken this morning to prevent a ferment in the town.\nI will play my part very willingly. The King can only kill me, and I\nshould die like a gentleman.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey will not do it,\u201d said George quietly to my father, \u201cand I am glad\nof it.\u201d\n\nHe was right. \u201cThis,\u201d said Dr. Downie, \u201cis a counsel of perfection.\nThings have gone too far, and we are flesh and blood. What would those\nwho in your country come nearest to us Musical Bank Managers do, if they\nfound they had made such a mistake as we have, and dared not own it?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not ask me,\u201d said my father; \u201cthe story is too long, and too\nterrible.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt any rate, then, tell us what you would have us do that is within our\nreach.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have done you harm enough, and if I preach, as likely as not I shall\ndo more.\u201d\n\nSeeing, however, that Dr. Downie was anxious to hear what he thought, my\nfather said--\n\n\u201cThen I must tell you. Our religion sets before us an ideal which we all\ncordially accept, but it also tells us of marvels like your chariot and\nhorses, which we most of us reject. Our best teachers insist on the\nideal, and keep the marvels in the background. If they could say\noutright that our age has outgrown them, they would say so, but this they\nmay not do; nevertheless they contrive to let their opinions be\nsufficiently well known, and their hearers are content with this.\n\n\u201cWe have others who take a very different course, but of these I will not\nspeak. Roughly, then, if you cannot abolish me altogether, make me a peg\non which to hang all your own best ethical and spiritual conceptions. If\nyou will do this, and wriggle out of that wretched relic, with that not\nless wretched picture--if you will make me out to be much better and\nabler than I was, or ever shall be, Sunchildism may serve your turn for\nmany a long year to come. Otherwise it will tumble about your heads\nbefore you think it will.\n\n\u201cAm I to go on or stop?\u201d\n\n\u201cGo on,\u201d said George softly. That was enough for my father, so on he\nwent.\n\n\u201cYou are already doing part of what I wish. I was delighted with the two\npassages I heard on Sunday, from what you call the Sunchild\u2019s Sayings. I\nnever said a word of either passage; I wish I had; I wish I could say\nanything half so good. And I have read a pamphlet by President Gurgoyle,\nwhich I liked extremely; but I never said what he says I did. Again, I\nwish I had. Keep to this sort of thing, and I will be as good a\nSunchildist as any of you. But you must bribe some thief to steal that\nrelic, and break it up to mend the roads with; and--for I believe that\nhere as elsewhere fires sometimes get lighted through the carelessness of\na workman--set the most careless workman you can find to do a plumbing\njob near that picture.\u201d\n\nHanky looked black at this, and George trod lightly on my father\u2019s toe,\nbut he told me that my father\u2019s face was innocence itself.\n\n\u201cThese are hard sayings,\u201d said Dr. Downie.\n\n\u201cI know they are,\u201d replied my father, \u201cand I do not like saying them, but\nthere is no royal road to unlearning, and you have much to unlearn.\nStill, you Musical Bank people bear witness to the fact that beyond the\nkingdoms of this world there is another, within which the writs of this\nworld\u2019s kingdoms do not run. This is the great service which our church\ndoes for us in England, and hence many of us uphold it, though we have no\nsympathy with the party now dominant within it. \u2018Better,\u2019 we think, \u2018a\ncorrupt church than none at all.\u2019 Moreover, those who in my country\nwould step into the church\u2019s shoes are as corrupt as the church, and more\nexacting. They are also more dangerous, for the masses distrust the\nchurch, and are on their guard against aggression, whereas they do not\nsuspect the doctrinaires and faddists, who, if they could, would\ninterfere in every concern of our lives.\n\n\u201cLet me return to yourselves. You Musical Bank Managers are very much\nsuch a body of men as your country needs--but when I was here before you\nhad no figurehead; I have unwittingly supplied you with one, and it is\nperhaps because you saw this, that you good people of Bridgeford took up\nwith me. Sunchildism is still young and plastic; if you will let the\ncock-and-bull stories about me tacitly drop, and invent no new ones,\nbeyond saying what a delightful person I was, I really cannot see why I\nshould not do for you as well as any one else.\n\n\u201cThere. What I have said is nine-tenths of it rotten and wrong, but it\nis the most practicable rotten and wrong that I can suggest, seeing into\nwhat a rotten and wrong state of things you have drifted. And now, Mr.\nMayor, do you not think we may join the Mayoress and Mrs. Humdrum?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you please, Mr. Higgs,\u201d answered the Mayor.\n\n\u201cThen let us go, for I have said too much already, and your son George\ntells me that we must be starting shortly.\u201d\n\nAs they were leaving the room Panky sidled up to my father and said,\n\u201cThere is a point, Mr. Higgs, which you can settle for me, though I feel\npretty certain how you will settle it. I think that a corruption has\ncrept into the text of the very beautiful--\u201d\n\nAt this moment, as my father, who saw what was coming, was wondering what\nin the world he could say, George came up to him and said, \u201cMr. Higgs, my\nmother wishes me to take you down into the store-room, to make sure that\nshe has put everything for you as you would like it.\u201d On this my father\nsaid he would return directly and answer what he knew would be Panky\u2019s\nquestion.\n\nWhen Yram had shewn what she had prepared--all of it, of course,\nfaultless--she said, \u201cAnd now, Mr. Higgs, about our leave-taking. Of\ncourse we shall both of us feel much. I shall; I know you will; George\nwill have a few more hours with you than the rest of us, but his time to\nsay good-bye will come, and it will be painful to both of you. I am glad\nyou came--I am glad you have seen George, and George you, and that you\ntook to one another. I am glad my husband has seen you; he has spoken to\nme about you very warmly, for he has taken to you much as George did. I\nam very, very glad to have seen you myself, and to have learned what\nbecame of you--and of your wife. I know you wish well to all of us; be\nsure that we all of us wish most heartily well to you and yours. I sent\nfor you and George, because I could not say all this unless we were\nalone; it is all I can do,\u201d she said, with a smile, \u201cto say it now.\u201d\n\nIndeed it was, for the tears were in her eyes all the time, as they were\nalso in my father\u2019s.\n\n\u201cLet this,\u201d continued Yram, \u201cbe our leave-taking--for we must have\nnothing like a scene upstairs. Just shake hands with us all, say the\nusual conventional things, and make it as short as you can; but I could\nnot bear to send you away without a few warmer words than I could have\nsaid when others were in the room.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay heaven bless you and yours,\u201d said my father, \u201cfor ever and ever.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will do,\u201d said George gently. \u201cNow, both of you shake hands, and\ncome upstairs with me.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\nWhen all three of them had got calm, for George had been moved almost as\nmuch as his father and mother, they went upstairs, and Panky came for his\nanswer. \u201cYou are very possibly right,\u201d said my father--\u201cthe version you\nhold to be corrupt is the one in common use amongst ourselves, but it is\nonly a translation, and very possibly only a translation of a\ntranslation, so that it may perhaps have been corrupted before it reached\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat,\u201d said Panky, \u201cwill explain everything,\u201d and he went contentedly\naway.\n\nMy father talked a little aside with Mrs. Humdrum about her\ngrand-daughter and George, for Yram had told him that she knew all about\nthe attachment, and then George, who saw that my father found the\ngreatest difficulty in maintaining an outward calm, said, \u201cMr. Higgs, the\nstreets are empty; we had better go.\u201d\n\nMy father did as Yram had told him; shook hands with every one, said all\nthat was usual and proper as briefly as he could, and followed George out\nof the room. The Mayor saw them to the door, and saved my father from\nembarrassment by saying, \u201cMr. Higgs, you and I understand one another too\nwell to make it necessary for us to say so. Good-bye to you, and may no\nill befall you ere you get home.\u201d\n\nMy father grasped his hand in both his own. \u201cAgain,\u201d he said, \u201cI can say\nno more than that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he bowed his head, and went out with George into the night.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV: GEORGE ESCORTS MY FATHER TO THE STATUES; THE TWO THEN PART\n\n\nThe streets were quite deserted as George had said they would be, and\nvery dark, save for an occasional oil lamp.\n\n\u201cAs soon as we can get within the preserves,\u201d said George, \u201cwe had better\nwait till morning. I have a rug for myself as well as for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw you had two,\u201d answered my father; \u201cyou must let me carry them\nboth; the provisions are much the heavier load.\u201d\n\nGeorge fought as hard as a dog would do, till my father said that they\nmust not quarrel during the very short time they had to be together. On\nthis George gave up one rug meekly enough, and my father yielded about\nthe basket, and the other rug.\n\nIt was about half-past eleven when they started, and it was after one\nbefore they reached the preserves. For the first mile from the town they\nwere not much hindered by the darkness, and my father told George about\nhis book and many another matter; he also promised George to say nothing\nabout this second visit. Then the road became more rough, and when it\ndwindled away to be a mere lane--becoming presently only a foot\ntrack--they had to mind their footsteps, and got on but slowly. The\nnight was starlit, and warm, considering that they were more than three\nthousand feet above the sea, but it was very dark, so that my father was\nwell enough pleased when George showed him the white stones that marked\nthe boundary, and said they had better soon make themselves as\ncomfortable as they could till morning.\n\n\u201cWe can stay here,\u201d he said, \u201ctill half-past three, there will be a\nlittle daylight then; we will rest half an hour for breakfast at about\nfive, and by noon we shall be at the statues, where we will dine.\u201d\n\nThis being settled, George rolled himself up in his rug, and in a few\nminutes went comfortably off to sleep. Not so my poor father. He wound\nup his watch, wrapped his rug round him, and lay down; but he could get\nno sleep. After such a day, and such an evening, how could any one have\nslept?\n\nAbout three the first signs of dawn began to show, and half an hour later\nmy father could see the sleeping face of his son--whom it went to his\nheart to wake. Nevertheless he woke him, and in a few minutes the two\nwere on their way--George as fresh as a lark--my poor father intent on\nnothing so much as on hiding from George how ill and unsound in body and\nmind he was feeling.\n\nThey walked on, saying but little, till at five by my father\u2019s watch\nGeorge proposed a halt for breakfast. The spot he chose was a grassy\noasis among the trees, carpeted with subalpine flowers, now in their\nfullest beauty, and close to a small stream that here came down from a\nside valley. The freshness of the morning air, the extreme beauty of the\nplace, the lovely birds that flitted from tree to tree, the exquisite\nshapes and colours of the flowers, still dew-bespangled, and above all,\nthe tenderness with which George treated him, soothed my father, and when\nhe and George had lit a fire and made some hot corn-coffee--with a view\nto which Yram had put up a bottle of milk--he felt so much restored as to\nlook forward to the rest of his journey without alarm. Moreover he had\nnothing to carry, for George had left his own rug at the place where they\nhad slept, knowing that he should find it on his return; he had therefore\ninsisted on carrying my father\u2019s. My father fought as long as he could,\nbut he had to give in.\n\n\u201cNow tell me,\u201d said George, glad to change the subject, \u201cwhat will those\nthree men do about what you said to them last night? Will they pay any\nattention to it?\u201d\n\nMy father laughed. \u201cMy dear George, what a question--I do not know them\nwell enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes, you do. At any rate say what you think most likely.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. I think Dr. Downie will do much as I said. He will not\nthrow the whole thing over, through fear of schism, loyalty to a party\nfrom which he cannot well detach himself, and because he does not think\nthat the public is quite tired enough of its toy. He will neither preach\nnor write against it, but he will live lukewarmly against it, and this is\nwhat the Hankys hate. They can stand either hot or cold, but they are\nafraid of lukewarm. In England Dr. Downie would be a Broad Churchman.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think we shall ever get rid of Sunchildism altogether?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf they stick to the cock-and-bull stories they are telling now, and rub\nthem in, as Hanky did on Sunday, it may go, and go soon. It has taken\nroot too quickly and easily; and its top is too heavy for its roots;\nstill there are so many chances in its favour that it may last a long\ntime.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how about Hanky?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will brazen it out, relic, chariot, and all: and he will welcome more\nrelics and more cock-and-bull stories; his single eye will be upon his\nown aggrandisement and that of his order. Plausible, unscrupulous,\nheartless scoundrel that he is, he will play for the queen and the women\nof the court, as Dr. Downie will play for the king and the men. He and\nhis party will sleep neither night nor day, but they will have one\nredeeming feature--whoever they may deceive, they will not deceive\nthemselves. They believe every one else to be as bad as they are, and\nsee no reason why they should not push their own wares in the way of\nbusiness. Hanky is everything that we in England rightly or wrongly\nbelieve a typical Jesuit to be.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd Panky--what about him?\u201d\n\n\u201cPanky must persuade himself of his own lies, before he is quite\ncomfortable about telling them to other people. Hanky keeps Hanky well\nout of it; Panky must have a base of operations in Panky. Hanky will\nlead him by the nose, bit by bit, for his is the master spirit. In\nEngland Panky would be what we call an extreme ritualist.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the real battle will be between Hanky and Dr. Downie. Which will\ncarry the day?\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the present, probably Hanky. He is the more vigilant, and\nenergetic; in this case Sunchildism will have to go, and I am afraid your\nwhole Musical Bank system will be swept away along with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why not?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause, my dear boy, though false in the letter, if good counsels\nprevail, it may be made true enough in spirit. If it were to go, its\nplace would be soon filled by men who would be as false in letter as the\nothers were, and much more false in spirit. You want a heart to check\nyour head, and a head to check your heart. As in our English body\npolitic there are two parties opposed to one another, neither of which\ncan thrive if the other is unduly weakened, so in our spiritual and\nintellectual world two parties more or less antagonistic are equally\nnecessary. Those who are at the head of science provide us with the one\nparty; those whom we call our churchmen are the other. Both are corrupt,\nbut we can spare neither, for each checks as far as it can the\ncorruptions of the other.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you would have us uphold Sunchildism, knowing it to be untrue?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo what you will, you will not get perfect truth. And if you can follow\nthe lead which I believe Dr. Downie will give you, that is to say, get\nrid of cock-and-bull stories, idealise my unworthy self, and, as I said\nlast night, make me a peg on which to hang your own best\nthoughts--Sunchildism will be as near truth as anything you are likely to\nget. But if Hankyism triumphs, come what may you must get rid of it, for\nhe and his school will tamper with the one sure and everlasting word of\nGod revealed to us by human experience. He who plays fast and loose with\nthis is as one who would forge God\u2019s signature to a cheque drawn on God\u2019s\nown bank.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre we to foster the belief that it was indeed the Sunchild who\ninterrupted Hanky\u2019s sermon?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, where you safely can, but not otherwise; and commit the facts to\nwriting as soon as you can find time. Do nothing to jeopardise your own\nsafety; you can do more by perfunctory acquiescence than by open dissent.\nAnd tell those friends whom you can trust, what these my parting words to\nyou have been. But above all I charge you solemnly, do nothing to\njeopardise your own safety; you cannot play into Hanky\u2019s hands more\ncertainly than by risking this. Think how he and Panky would rejoice,\nand how Dr. Downie would grieve. Be wise and wary; bide your time; do\nwhat you prudently can, and you will find you can do much; try to do\nmore, and you will do nothing. Be guided by the Mayor, by your\nmother--and by that dear old lady whose grandson you will--\u201d\n\n\u201cThen they have told you,\u201d interrupted the youth blushing scarlet.\n\n\u201cMy dearest boy, of course they have, and I have seen her, and am head\nover ears in love with her myself.\u201d\n\nHe was all smiles and blushes, and vowed for a few minutes that it was a\nshame of them to tell me, but presently he said--\n\n\u201cThen you like her.\u201d\n\n\u201cRather!\u201d said my father vehemently, and shaking George by the hand. But\nhe said nothing about the nuggets and the sovereigns, knowing that Yram\ndid not wish him to do so. Neither did George say anything about his\ndetermination to start for the capital in the morning, and make a clean\nbreast of everything to the King. So soon does it become necessary even\nfor those who are most cordially attached to hide things from one\nanother. My father, however, was made comfortable by receiving a promise\nfrom the youth that he would take no step of which the persons he had\nnamed would disapprove.\n\nWhen once Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter had been introduced there was no\nmore talking about Hanky and Panky; for George began to bubble over with\nthe subject that was nearest his heart, and how much he feared that it\nwould be some time yet before he could be married. Many a story did he\ntell of his early attachment and of its course for the last ten years,\nbut my space will not allow me to inflict one of them on the reader. My\nfather saw that the more he listened and sympathised and encouraged, the\nfonder George became of him, and this was all he cared about.\n\nThus did they converse hour after hour. They passed the Blue Pool,\nwithout seeing it or even talking about it for more than a minute. George\nkept an eye on the quails and declared them fairly plentiful and strong\non the wing, but nothing now could keep him from pouring out his whole\nheart about Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter, until towards noon they caught\nsight of the statues, and a halt was made which gave my father the first\npang he had felt that morning, for he knew that the statues would be the\nbeginning of the end.\n\nThere was no need to light a fire, for Yram had packed for them two\nbottles of a delicious white wine, something like White Capri, which went\nadmirably with the many more solid good things that she had provided for\nthem. As soon as they had finished a hearty meal my father said to\nGeorge, \u201cYou must have my watch for a keepsake; I see you are not wearing\nmy boots. I fear you did not find them comfortable, but I am glad you\nhave not got them on, for I have set my heart on keeping yours.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us settle about the boots first. I rather fancied that that was why\nyou put me off when I wanted to get my own back again; and then I thought\nI should like yours for a keepsake, so I put on another pair last night,\nand they are nothing like so comfortable as yours were.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow I wonder,\u201d said my father to me, \u201cwhether this was true, or whether\nit was only that dear fellow\u2019s pretty invention; but true or false I was\nas delighted as he meant me to be.\u201d\n\nI asked George about this when I saw him, and he confessed with an\ningenuous blush that my father\u2019s boots had hurt him, and that he had\nnever thought of making a keepsake of them, till my father\u2019s words\nstimulated his invention.\n\nAs for the watch, which was only a silver one, but of the best make,\nGeorge protested for a time, but when he had yielded, my father could see\nthat he was overjoyed at getting it; for watches, though now permitted,\nwere expensive and not in common use.\n\nHaving thus bribed him, my father broached the possibility of his meeting\nhim at the statues on that day twelvemonth, but of course saying nothing\nabout why he was so anxious that he should come.\n\n\u201cI will come,\u201d said my father, \u201cnot a yard farther than the statues, and\nif I cannot come I will send your brother. And I will come at noon; but\nit is possible that the river down below may be in fresh, and I may not\nbe able to hit off the day, though I will move heaven and earth to do so.\nTherefore if I do not meet you on the day appointed, do your best to come\nalso at noon on the following day. I know how inconvenient this will be\nfor you, and will come true to the day if it is possible.\u201d\n\nTo my father\u2019s surprise, George did not raise so many difficulties as he\nhad expected. He said it might be done, if neither he nor my father were\nto go beyond the statues. \u201cAnd difficult as it will be for you,\u201d said\nGeorge, \u201cyou had better come a second day if necessary, as I will, for\nwho can tell what might happen to make the first day impossible?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said my father, \u201cwe shall be spared that horrible feeling that we\nare parting without hope of seeing each other again. I find it hard\nenough to say good-bye even now, but I do not know how I could have faced\nit if you had not agreed to our meeting again.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe day fixed upon will be our XXI. i. 3, and the hour noon as near as\nmay be?\u201d\n\n\u201cSo. Let me write it down: \u2018XXI. i. 3, _i.e_. our December 9, 1891, I am\nto meet George at the statues, at twelve o\u2019clock, and if he does not\ncome, I am to be there again on the following day.\u2019\u201d\n\nIn like manner, George wrote down what he was to do: \u201cXXI. i. 3, or\nfailing this XXI. i. 4. Statues. Noon.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis,\u201d he said, \u201cis a solemn covenant, is it not?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said my father, \u201cand may all good omens attend it!\u201d\n\nThe words were not out of his mouth before a mountain bird, something\nlike our jackdaw, but smaller and of a bluer black, flew out of the\nhollow mouth of one of the statues, and with a hearty chuckle perched on\nthe ground at his feet, attracted doubtless by the scraps of food that\nwere lying about. With the fearlessness of birds in that country, it\nlooked up at him and George, gave another hearty chuckle, and flew back\nto its statue with the largest fragment it could find.\n\nThey settled that this was an omen so propitious that they could part in\ngood hope. \u201cLet us finish the wine,\u201d said my father, \u201cand then, do what\nmust be done!\u201d\n\nThey finished the wine to each other\u2019s good health; George drank also to\nmine, and said he hoped my father would bring me with him, while my\nfather drank to Yram, the Mayor, their children, Mrs. Humdrum, and above\nall to Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter. They then re-packed all that could\nbe taken away; my father rolled his rug to his liking, slung it over his\nshoulder, gripped George\u2019s hand, and said, \u201cMy dearest boy, when we have\neach turned our backs upon one another, let us walk our several ways as\nfast as we can, and try not to look behind us.\u201d\n\nSo saying he loosed his grip of George\u2019s hand, bared his head, lowered\nit, and turned away.\n\nGeorge burst into tears, and followed him after he had gone two paces; he\nthrew his arms round him, hugged him, kissed him on his lips, cheeks, and\nforehead, and then turning round, strode full speed towards Sunch\u2019ston.\nMy father never took his eyes off him till he was out of sight, but the\nboy did not look round. When he could see him no more, my father with\nfaltering gait, and feeling as though a prop had suddenly been taken from\nunder him, began to follow the stream down towards his old camp.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI: MY FATHER REACHES HOME, AND DIES NOT LONG AFTERWARDS\n\n\nMy father could walk but slowly, for George\u2019s boots had blistered his\nfeet, and it seemed to him that the river-bed, of which he caught\nglimpses now and again, never got any nearer; but all things come to an\nend, and by seven o\u2019clock on the night of Tuesday, he was on the spot\nwhich he had left on the preceding Friday morning. Three entire days had\nintervened, but he felt that something, he knew not what, had seized him,\nand that whereas before these three days life had been one thing, what\nlittle might follow them, would be another--and a very different one.\n\nHe soon caught sight of his horse which had strayed a mile lower down the\nriver-bed, and in spite of his hobbles had crossed one ugly stream that\nmy father dared not ford on foot. Tired though he was, he went after\nhim, bridle in hand, and when the friendly creature saw him, it recrossed\nthe stream, and came to him of its own accord--either tired of his own\ncompany, or tempted by some bread my father held out towards him. My\nfather took off the hobbles, and rode him bare-backed to the camping\nground, where he rewarded him with more bread and biscuit, and then\nhobbled him again for the night.\n\n\u201cIt was here,\u201d he said to me on one of the first days after his return,\n\u201cthat I first knew myself to be a broken man. As for meeting George\nagain, I felt sure that it would be all I could do to meet his brother;\nand though George was always in my thoughts, it was for you and not him\nthat I was now yearning. When I gave George my watch, how glad I was\nthat I had left my gold one at home, for that is yours, and I could not\nhave brought myself to give it him.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever mind that, my dear father,\u201d said I, \u201cbut tell me how you got down\nthe river, and thence home again.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy very dear boy,\u201d he said, \u201cI can hardly remember, and I had no energy\nto make any more notes. I remember putting a scrap of paper into the box\nof sovereigns, merely sending George my love along with the money; I\nremember also dropping the box into a hole in a tree, which I blazed, and\ntowards which I drew a line of wood-ashes. I seem to see a poor unhinged\ncreature gazing moodily for hours into a fire which he heaps up now and\nagain with wood. There is not a breath of air; Nature sleeps so calmly\nthat she dares not even breathe for fear of waking; the very river has\nhushed his flow. Without, the starlit calm of a summer\u2019s night in a\ngreat wilderness; within, a hurricane of wild and incoherent thoughts\nbattling with one another in their fury to fall upon him and rend him--and\non the other side the great wall of mountain, thousands of children\npraying at their mother\u2019s knee to this poor dazed thing. I suppose this\nhalf delirious wretch must have been myself. But I must have been more\nill when I left England than I thought I was, or Erewhon would not have\nbroken me down as it did.\u201d\n\nNo doubt he was right. Indeed it was because Mr. Cathie and his doctor\nsaw that he was out of health and in urgent need of change, that they\nleft off opposing his wish to travel. There is no use, however, in\ntalking about this now.\n\nI never got from him how he managed to reach the shepherd\u2019s hut, but I\nlearned some little from the shepherd, when I stayed with him both on\ngoing towards Erewhon, and on returning.\n\n\u201cHe did not seem to have drink in him,\u201d said the shepherd, \u201cwhen he first\ncame here; but he must have been pretty full of it, or he must have had\nsome bottles in his saddle-bags; for he was awful when he came back. He\nhad got them worse than any man I ever saw, only that he was not awkward.\nHe said there was a bird flying out of a giant\u2019s mouth and laughing at\nhim, and he kept muttering about a blue pool, and hanky-panky of all\nsorts, and he said he knew it was all hanky-panky, at least I thought he\nsaid so, but it was no use trying to follow him, for it was all nothing\nbut horrors. He said I was to stop the people from trying to worship\nhim. Then he said the sky opened and he could see the angels going about\nand singing \u2018Hallelujah.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cHow long did he stay with you?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cAbout ten days, but the last three he was himself again, only too weak\nto move. He thought he was cured except for weakness.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know how he had been spending the last two days or so before he\ngot down to your hut?\u201d\n\nI said two days, because this was the time I supposed he would take to\ndescend the river.\n\n\u201cI should say drinking all the time. He said he had fallen off his horse\ntwo or three times, till he took to leading him. If he had had any other\nhorse than old Doctor he would have been a dead man. Bless you, I have\nknown that horse ever since he was foaled, and I never saw one like him\nfor sense. He would pick fords better than that gentleman could, I know,\nand if the gentleman fell off him he would just stay stock still. He was\nbadly bruised, poor man, when he got here. I saw him through the gorge\nwhen he left me, and he gave me a sovereign; he said he had only one\nother left to take him down to the port, or he would have made it more.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe was my father,\u201d said I, \u201cand he is dead, but before he died he told\nme to give you five pounds which I have brought you. I think you are\nwrong in saying that he had been drinking.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is what they all say; but I take it very kind of him to have\nthought of me.\u201d\n\nMy father\u2019s illness for the first three weeks after his return played\nwith him as a cat plays with a mouse; now and again it would let him have\na day or two\u2019s run, during which he was so cheerful and unclouded that\nhis doctor was quite hopeful about him. At various times on these\noccasions I got from him that when he left the shepherd\u2019s hut, he thought\nhis illness had run itself out, and that he should now reach the port\nfrom which he was to sail for S. Francisco without misadventure. This he\ndid, and he was able to do all he had to do at the port, though\nfrequently attacked with passing fits of giddiness. I need not dwell\nupon his voyage to S. Francisco, and thence home; it is enough to say\nthat he was able to travel by himself in spite of gradually, but\ncontinually, increasing failure.\n\n\u201cWhen,\u201d he said, \u201cI reached the port, I telegraphed as you know, for\nmore money. How puzzled you must have been. I sold my horse to the man\nfrom whom I bought it, at a loss of only about \u00a310, and I left with him\nmy saddle, saddle-bags, small hatchet, my hobbles, and in fact\neverything that I had taken with me, except what they had impounded in\nErewhon. Yram\u2019s rug I dropped into the river when I knew that I should\nno longer need it--as also her substitutes for my billy and pannikin;\nand I burned her basket. The shepherd would have asked me questions.\nYou will find an order to deliver everything up to bearer. You need\ntherefore take nothing from England.\u201d\n\nAt another time he said, \u201cWhen you go, for it is plain I cannot, and go\none or other of us must, try and get the horse I had: he will be nine\nyears old, and he knows all about the rivers: if you leave everything\nto him, you may shut your eyes, but do not interfere with him. Give the\nshepherd what I said and he will attend to you, but go a day or two too\nsoon, for the margin of one day was not enough to allow in case of a\nfresh in the river; if the water is discoloured you must not cross\nit--not even with Doctor. I could not ask George to come up three days\nrunning from Sunch\u2019ston to the statues and back.\u201d\n\nHere he became exhausted. Almost the last coherent string of sentences\nI got from him was as follows:-\n\n\u201cAbout George\u2019s money if I send him \u00a32000 you will still have nearly\n\u00a3150,000  left, and Mr. Cathie will not let you try to make it more. I\nknow you would give him four or five thousand, but the Mayor and I\ntalked it over, and settled that \u00a32000 in gold would make him a rich\nman. Consult our good friend Alfred\u201d (meaning, of course, Mr. Cathie)\n\u201cabout the best way of taking the money. I am afraid there is nothing\nfor it but gold, and this will be a great weight for you to\ncarry--about, I believe 36 lbs. Can you do this? I really think that if\nyou lead your horse you . . . no--there will be the getting him down\nagain--\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t worry about it, my dear father,\u201d said I, \u201cI can do it easily if I\nstow the load rightly, and I will see to this. I shall have nothing else\nto carry, for I shall camp down below both morning and evening. But\nwould you not like to send some present to the Mayor, Yram, their other\nchildren, and Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cDo what you can,\u201d said my father. And these were the last instructions\nhe gave me about those adventures with which alone this work is\nconcerned.\n\nThe day before he died, he had a little flicker of intelligence, but all\nof a sudden his face became clouded as with great anxiety; he seemed to\nsee some horrible chasm in front of him which he had to cross, or which\nhe feared that I must cross, for he gasped out words, which, as near as I\ncould catch them, were, \u201cLook out! John! Leap! Leap! Le....\u201d but\nhe could not say all that he was trying to say and closed his eyes,\nhaving, as I then deemed, seen that he was on the brink of that gulf\nwhich lies between life and death; I took it that in reality he died at\nthat moment; for there was neither struggle, nor hardly movement of any\nkind afterwards--nothing but a pulse which for the next several hours\ngrew fainter and fainter so gradually, that it was not till some time\nafter it had ceased to beat that we were certain of its having done so.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII: I MEET MY BROTHER GEORGE AT THE STATUES, ON THE TOP OF THE\nPASS INTO EREWHON\n\n\nThis book has already become longer than I intended, but I will ask the\nreader to have patience while I tell him briefly of my own visit to the\nthreshold of that strange country of which I fear that he may be already\nbeginning to tire.\n\nThe winding-up of my father\u2019s estate was a very simple matter, and by the\nbeginning of September 1891 I should have been free to start; but about\nthat time I became engaged, and naturally enough I did not want to be\nlonger away than was necessary. I should not have gone at all if I could\nhave helped it. I left, however, a fortnight later than my father had\ndone.\n\nBefore starting I bought a handsome gold repeater for the Mayor, and a\nbrooch for Yram, of pearls and diamonds set in gold, for which I paid\n\u00a3200. For Yram\u2019s three daughters and for Mrs. Humdrum\u2019s grand-daughter\nI took four brooches each of which cost about \u00a315, 15s., and for the\nboys I got three ten-guinea silver watches. For George I only took a\nstrong English knife of the best make, and the two thousand pounds\nworth of uncoined gold, which for convenience\u2019 sake I had had made into\nsmall bars. I also had a knapsack made that would hold these and\nnothing else--each bar being strongly sewn into its place, so that none\nof them could shift. Whenever I went on board ship, or went on shore, I\nput this on my back, so that no one handled it except myself--and I can\nassure the reader that I did not find it a light weight to handle. I\nought to have taken something for old Mrs. Humdrum, but I am ashamed to\nsay that I forgot her.\n\nI went as directly as I could to the port of which my father had told\nme, and reached it on November 27, one day later than he had done in\nthe preceding year.\n\nOn the following day, which was a Saturday, I went to the livery\nstables from which my father had bought his horse, and found to my\ngreat delight that Doctor could be at my disposal, for, as it seemed to\nme, the very reasonable price of fifteen shillings a day. I shewed the\nowner of the stables my father\u2019s order, and all the articles he had\nleft were immediately delivered to me. I was still wearing crape round\none arm, and the horse-dealer, whose name was Baker, said he was afraid\nthe other gentleman might be dead.\n\n\u201cIndeed, he is so,\u201d said I, \u201cand a great grief it is to me; he was my\nfather.\u201d\n\n\u201cDear, dear,\u201d answered Mr. Baker, \u201cthat is a very serious thing for the\npoor gentleman. He seemed quite unfit to travel alone, and I feared he\nwas not long for this world, but he was bent on going.\u201d\n\nI had nothing now to do but to buy a blanket, pannikin, and billy, with\nsome tea, tobacco, two bottles of brandy, some ship\u2019s biscuits, and\nwhatever other few items were down on the list of requisites which my\nfather had dictated to me. Mr. Baker, seeing that I was what he called a\nnew chum, shewed me how to pack my horse, but I kept my knapsack full of\ngold on my back, and though I could see that it puzzled him, he asked no\nquestions. There was no reason why I should not set out at once for the\nprincipal town of the colony, which was some ten miles inland; I,\ntherefore, arranged at my hotel that the greater part of my luggage\nshould await my return, and set out to climb the high hills that back the\nport. From the top of these I had a magnificent view of the plains that\nI should have to cross, and of the long range of distant mountains which\nbounded them north and south as far as the eye could reach. On some of\nthe mountains I could still see streaks of snow, but my father had\nexplained to me that the ranges I should here see, were not those\ndividing the English colony from Erewhon. I also saw, some nine miles or\nso out upon the plains, the more prominent buildings of a large town\nwhich seemed to be embosomed in trees, and this I reached in about an\nhour and a half; for I had to descend at a foot\u2019s pace, and Doctor\u2019s many\nvirtues did not comprise a willingness to go beyond an amble.\n\nAt the town above referred to I spent the night, and began to strike\nacross the plains on the following morning. I might have crossed these\nin three days at twenty-five miles a day, but I had too much time on my\nhands, and my load of gold was so uncomfortable that I was glad to stay\nat one accommodation house after another, averaging about eighteen miles\na day. I have no doubt that if I had taken advice, I could have stowed\nmy load more conveniently, but I could not unpack it, and made the best\nof it as it was.\n\nOn the evening of Wednesday, December 2, I reached the river which I\nshould have to follow up; it was here nearing the gorge through which it\nhad to pass before the country opened out again at the back of the front\nrange. I came upon it quite suddenly on reaching the brink of a great\nterrace, the bank of which sloped almost precipitously down towards it,\nbut was covered with grass. The terrace was some three hundred feet\nabove the river, and faced another similar one, which was from a mile and\na half to two miles distant. At the bottom of this huge yawning chasm,\nrolled the mighty river, and I shuddered at the thought of having to\ncross and recross it. For it was angry, muddy, evidently in heavy fresh,\nand filled bank and bank for nearly a mile with a flood of seething\nwaters.\n\nI followed along the northern edge of the terrace, till I reached the\nlast accommodation house that could be said to be on the plains--which,\nby the way, were here some eight or nine hundred feet above sea level.\nWhen I reached this house, I was glad to learn that the river was not\nlikely to remain high for more than a day or two, and that if what was\ncalled a Southerly Burster came up, as it might be expected to do at any\nmoment, it would be quite low again before three days were over.\n\nAt this house I stayed the night, and in the course of the evening a\nstray dog--a retriever, hardly full grown, and evidently very much down\non his luck--took up with me; when I inquired about him, and asked if I\nmight take him with me, the landlord said he wished I would, for he knew\nnothing about him and was trying to drive him from the house. Knowing\nwhat a boon the companionship of this poor beast would be to me when I\nwas camping out alone, I encouraged him, and next morning he followed me\nas a matter of course.\n\nIn the night the Southerly Burster which my host anticipated had come up,\ncold and blustering, but invigorating after the hot, dry, wind that had\nbeen blowing hard during the daytime as I had crossed the plains. A mile\nor two higher up I passed a large sheep-station, but did not stay there.\nOne or two men looked at me with surprise, and asked me where I was\ngoing, whereon I said I was in search of rare plants and birds for the\nMuseum of the town at which I had slept the night after my arrival. This\nsatisfied their curiosity, and I ambled on accompanied by the dog. In\npassing I may say that I found Doctor not to excel at any pace except an\namble, but for a long journey, especially for one who is carrying a\nheavy, awkward load, there is no pace so comfortable; and he ambled\nfairly fast.\n\nI followed the horse track which had been cut through the gorge, and in\nmany places I disliked it extremely, for the river, still in fresh, was\nraging furiously; twice, for some few yards, where the gorge was wider\nand the stream less rapid, it covered the track, and I had no confidence\nthat it might not have washed it away; on these occasions Doctor pricked\nhis ears towards the water, and was evidently thinking exactly what his\nrider was. He decided, however, that all would be sound, and took to the\nwater without any urging on my part. Seeing his opinion, I remembered my\nfather\u2019s advice, and let him do what he liked, but in one place for three\nor four yards the water came nearly up to his belly, and I was in great\nfear for the watches that were in my saddle-bags. As for the dog, I\nfeared I had lost him, but after a time he rejoined me, though how he\ncontrived to do so I cannot say.\n\nNothing could be grander than the sight of this great river pent into a\nnarrow compass, and occasionally becoming more like an immense waterfall\nthan a river, but I was in continual fear of coming to more places where\nthe water would be over the track, and perhaps of finding myself unable\nto get any farther. I therefore failed to enjoy what was really far the\nmost impressive sight in its way that I had ever seen. \u201cGive me,\u201d I said\nto myself, \u201cthe Thames at Richmond,\u201d and right thankful was I, when at\nabout two o\u2019clock I found that I was through the gorge and in a wide\nvalley, the greater part of which, however, was still covered by the\nriver. It was here that I heard for the first time the curious sound of\nboulders knocking against each other underneath the great body of water\nthat kept rolling them round and round.\n\nI now halted, and lit a fire, for there was much dead scrub standing that\nhad remained after the ground had been burned for the first time some\nyears previously. I made myself some tea, and turned Doctor out for a\ncouple of hours to feed. I did not hobble him, for my father had told me\nthat he would always come for bread. When I had dined, and smoked, and\nslept for a couple of hours or so, I reloaded Doctor and resumed my\njourney towards the shepherd\u2019s hut, which I caught sight of about a mile\nbefore I reached it. When nearly half a mile off it, I dismounted, and\nmade a written note of the exact spot at which I did so. I then turned\nfor a couple of hundred yards to my right, at right angles to the track,\nwhere some huge rocks were lying--fallen ages since from the mountain\nthat flanked this side of the valley. Here I deposited my knapsack in a\nhollow underneath some of the rocks, and put a good sized stone in front\nof it, for I meant spending a couple of days with the shepherd to let the\nriver go down. Moreover, as it was now only December 3, I had too much\ntime on my hands, but I had not dared to cut things finer.\n\nI reached the hut at about six o\u2019clock, and introduced myself to the\nshepherd, who was a nice, kind old man, commonly called Harris, but his\nreal name he told me was Horace--Horace Taylor. I had the conversation\nwith him of which I have already told the reader, adding that my father\nhad been unable to give a coherent account of what he had seen, and that\nI had been sent to get the information he had failed to furnish.\n\nThe old man said that I must certainly wait a couple of days before I\nwent higher up the river. He had made himself a nice garden, in which he\ntook the greatest pride, and which supplied him with plenty of\nvegetables. He was very glad to have company, and to receive the\nnewspapers which I had taken care to bring him. He had a real genius for\nsimple cookery, and fed me excellently. My father\u2019s \u00a35, and the\nration of brandy which I nightly gave him, made me a welcome guest, and\nthough I was longing to be at any rate as far as the foot of the pass\ninto Erewhon, I amused myself very well in an abundance of ways with\nwhich I need not trouble the reader.\n\nOne of the first things that Harris said to me was, \u201cI wish I knew what\nyour father did with the nice red blanket he had with him when he went up\nthe river. He had none when he came down again; I have no horse here,\nbut I borrowed one from a man who came up one day from down below, and\nrode to a place where I found what I am sure were the ashes of the last\nfire he made, but I could find neither the blanket nor the billy and\npannikin he took away with him. He said he supposed he must have left\nthe things there, but he could remember nothing about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid,\u201d said I, \u201cthat I cannot help you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt any rate,\u201d continued the shepherd, \u201cI did not have my ride for\nnothing, for as I was coming back I found this rug half covered with sand\non the river-bed.\u201d\n\nAs he spoke he pointed to an excellent warm rug, on the spare bunk in his\nhut. \u201cIt is none of our make,\u201d said he; \u201cI suppose some foreign digger\nhas come over from the next river down south and got drowned, for it had\nnot been very long where I found it, at least I think not, for it was not\nmuch fly-blown, and no one had passed here to go up the river since your\nfather.\u201d\n\nI knew what it was, but I held my tongue beyond saying that the rug was a\nvery good one.\n\nThe next day, December 4, was lovely, after a night that had been clear\nand cold, with frost towards early morning. When the shepherd had gone\nfor some three hours in the forenoon to see his sheep (that were now\nlambing), I walked down to the place where I had left my knapsack, and\ncarried it a good mile above the hut, where I again hid it. I could see\nthe great range from one place, and the thick new fallen snow assured me\nthat the river would be quite normal shortly. Indeed, by evening it was\nhardly at all discoloured, but I waited another day, and set out on the\nmorning of Sunday, December 6. The river was now almost as low as in\nwinter, and Harris assured me that if I used my eyes I could not miss\nfinding a ford over one stream or another every half mile or so. I had\nthe greatest difficulty in preventing him from accompanying me on foot\nfor some little distance, but I got rid of him in the end; he came with\nme beyond the place where I had hidden my knapsack, but when he had left\nme long enough, I rode back and got it.\n\nI see I am dwelling too long upon my own small adventures. Suffice it\nthat, accompanied by my dog, I followed the north bank of the river till\nI found I must cross one stream before I could get any farther. This\nplace would not do, and I had to ride half a mile back before I found one\nthat seemed as if it might be safe. I fancy my father must have done\njust the same thing, for Doctor seemed to know the ground, and took to\nthe water the moment I brought him to it. It never reached his belly,\nbut I confess I did not like it. By and by I had to recross, and so on,\noff and on, till at noon I camped for dinner. Here the dog found me a\nnest of young ducks, nearly fledged, from which the parent birds tried\nwith great success to decoy me. I fully thought I was going to catch\nthem, but the dog knew better and made straight for the nest, from which\nhe returned immediately with a fine young duck in his mouth, which he\nlaid at my feet, wagging his tail and barking. I took another from the\nnest and left two for the old birds.\n\nThe afternoon was much as the morning and towards seven I reached a place\nwhich suggested itself as a good camping ground. I had hardly fixed on\nit and halted, before I saw a few pieces of charred wood, and felt sure\nthat my father must have camped at this very place before me. I hobbled\nDoctor, unloaded, plucked and singed a duck, and gave the dog some of the\nmeat with which Harris had furnished me; I made tea, laid my duck on the\nembers till it was cooked, smoked, gave myself a nightcap of brandy and\nwater, and by and by rolled myself round in my blanket, with the dog\ncurled up beside me. I will not dwell upon the strangeness of my\nfeelings--nor the extreme beauty of the night. But for the dog, and\nDoctor, I should have been frightened, but I knew that there were no\nsavage creatures or venomous snakes in the country, and both the dog and\nDoctor were such good companionable creatures, that I did not feel so\nmuch oppressed by the solitude as I had feared I should be. But the\nnight was cold, and my blanket was not enough to keep me comfortably\nwarm.\n\nThe following day was delightfully warm as soon as the sun got to the\nbottom of the valley, and the fresh fallen snow disappeared so fast from\nthe snowy range that I was afraid it would raise the river--which,\nindeed, rose in the afternoon and became slightly discoloured, but it\ncannot have been more than three or four inches deeper, for it never\nreached the bottom of my saddle-bags. I believe Doctor knew exactly\nwhere I was going, for he wanted no guidance. I halted again at midday,\ngot two more ducks, crossed and recrossed the river, or some of its\nstreams, several times, and at about six, caught sight, after a bend in\nthe valley, of the glacier descending on to the river-bed. This I knew\nto be close to the point at which I was to camp for the night, and from\nwhich I was to ascend the mountain. After another hour\u2019s slow progress\nover the increasing roughness of the river-bed, I saw the triangular\ndelta of which my father had told me, and the stream that had formed it,\nbounding down the mountain side. Doctor went right up to the place where\nmy father\u2019s fire had been, and I again found many pieces of charred wood\nand ashes.\n\nAs soon as I had unloaded Doctor and hobbled him, I went to a tree hard\nby, on which I could see the mark of a blaze, and towards which I thought\nI could see a line of wood ashes running. There I found a hole in which\nsome bird had evidently been wont to build, and surmised correctly that\nit must be the one in which my father had hidden his box of sovereigns.\nThere was no box in the hole now, and I began to feel that I was at last\nwithin measureable distance of Erewhon and the Erewhonians.\n\nI camped for the night here, and again found my single blanket\ninsufficient. The next day, i.e. Tuesday, December 8, I had to pass as I\nbest could, and it occurred to me that as I should find the gold a great\nweight, I had better take it some three hours up the mountain side and\nleave it there, so as to make the following day less fatiguing, and this\nI did, returning to my camp for dinner; but I was panic-stricken all the\nrest of the day lest I should not have hidden it safely, or lest I should\nbe unable to find it next day--conjuring up a hundred absurd fancies as\nto what might befall it. And after all, heavy though it was, I could\nhave carried it all the way. In the afternoon I saddled Doctor and rode\nhim up to the glaciers, which were indeed magnificent, and then I made\nthe few notes of my journey from which this chapter has been taken. I\nmade excuses for turning in early, and at daybreak rekindled my fire and\ngot my breakfast. All the time the companionship of the dog was an\nunspeakable comfort to me.\n\nIt was now the day my father had fixed for my meeting with George, and my\nexcitement (with which I have not yet troubled the reader, though it had\nbeen consuming me ever since I had left Harris\u2019s hut) was beyond all\nbounds, so much so that I almost feared I was in a fever which would\nprevent my completing the little that remained of my task; in fact, I was\nin as great a panic as I had been about the gold that I had left. My\nhands trembled as I took the watches, and the brooches for Yram and her\ndaughters from my saddle-bags, which I then hung, probably on the very\nbough on which my father had hung them. Needless to say, I also hung my\nsaddle and bridle along with the saddle-bags.\n\nIt was nearly seven before I started, and about ten before I reached the\nhiding-place of my knapsack. I found it, of course, quite easily,\nshouldered it, and toiled on towards the statues. At a quarter before\ntwelve I reached them, and almost beside myself as I was, could not\nrefrain from some disappointment at finding them a good deal smaller than\nI expected. My father, correcting the measurement he had given in his\nbook, said he thought that they were about four or five times the size of\nlife; but really I do not think they were more than twenty feet high, any\none of them. In other respects my father\u2019s description of them is quite\naccurate. There was no wind, and as a matter of course, therefore, they\nwere not chanting. I wiled away the quarter of an hour before the time\nwhen George became due, with wondering at them, and in a way admiring\nthem, hideous though they were; but all the time I kept looking towards\nthe part from which George should come.\n\nAt last my watch pointed to noon, but there was no George. A quarter\npast twelve, but no George. Half-past, still no George. One o\u2019clock,\nand all the quarters till three o\u2019clock, but still no George. I tried to\neat some of the ship\u2019s biscuits I had brought with me, but I could not.\nMy disappointment was now as great as my excitement had been all the\nforenoon; at three o\u2019clock I fairly cried, and for half an hour could\nonly fling myself on the ground and give way to all the unreasonable\nspleen that extreme vexation could suggest. True, I kept telling myself\nthat for aught I knew George might be dead, or down with a fever; but\nthis would not do; for in this last case he should have sent one of his\nbrothers to meet me, and it was not likely that he was dead. I am afraid\nI thought it most probable that he had been casual--of which unworthy\nsuspicion I have long since been heartily ashamed.\n\nI put the brooches inside my knapsack, and hid it in a place where I was\nsure no one would find it; then, with a heavy heart, I trudged down again\nto my camp--broken in spirit, and hopeless for the morrow.\n\nI camped again, but it was some hours before I got a wink of sleep; and\nwhen sleep came it was accompanied by a strange dream. I dreamed that I\nwas by my father\u2019s bedside, watching his last flicker of intelligence,\nand vainly trying to catch the words that he was not less vainly trying\nto utter. All of a sudden the bed seemed to be at my camping ground, and\nthe largest of the statues appeared, quite small, high up the mountain\nside, but striding down like a giant in seven league boots till it stood\nover me and my father, and shouted out \u201cLeap, John, leap.\u201d In the horror\nof this vision I woke with a loud cry that woke my dog also, and made him\nshew such evident signs of fear, that it seemed to me as though he too\nmust have shared my dream.\n\nShivering with cold I started up in a frenzy, but there was nothing, save\na night of such singular beauty that I did not even try to go to sleep\nagain. Naturally enough, on trying to keep awake I dropped asleep before\nmany minutes were over.\n\nIn the morning I again climbed up to the statues, without, to my\nsurprise, being depressed with the idea that George would again fail to\nmeet me. On the contrary, without rhyme or reason, I had a strong\npresentiment that he would come. And sure enough, as soon as I caught\nsight of the statues, which I did about a quarter to twelve, I saw a\nyouth coming towards me, with a quick step, and a beaming face that had\nonly to be seen to be fallen in love with.\n\n\u201cYou are my brother,\u201d said he to me. \u201cIs my father with you?\u201d\n\nI pointed to the crape on my arm, and to the ground, but said nothing.\n\nHe understood me, and bared his head. Then he flung his arms about me\nand kissed my forehead according to Erewhonian custom. I was a little\nsurprised at his saying nothing to me about the way in which he had\ndisappointed me on the preceding day; I resolved, however, to wait for\nthe explanation that I felt sure he would give me presently.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII: GEORGE AND I SPEND A FEW HOURS TOGETHER AT THE STATUES,\nAND THEN PART--I REACH HOME--POSTSCRIPT\n\n\nI have said on an earlier page that George gained an immediate ascendancy\nover me, but ascendancy is not the word--he took me by storm; how, or\nwhy, I neither know nor want to know, but before I had been with him more\nthan a few minutes I felt as though I had known and loved him all my\nlife. And the dog fawned upon him as though he felt just as I did.\n\n\u201cCome to the statues,\u201d said he, as soon as he had somewhat recovered from\nthe shock of the news I had given him. \u201cWe can sit down there on the\nvery stone on which our father and I sat a year ago. I have brought a\nbasket, which my mother packed for--for--him and me. Did he talk to you\nabout me?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe talked of nothing so much, and he thought of nothing so much. He had\nyour boots put where he could see them from his bed until he died.\u201d\n\nThen followed the explanation about these boots, of which the reader has\nalready been told. This made us both laugh, and from that moment we were\ncheerful.\n\nI say nothing about our enjoyment of the luncheon with which Yram had\nprovided us, and if I were to detail all that I told George about my\nfather, and all the additional information that I got from him--(many a\npoint did he clear up for me that I had not fully understood)--I should\nfill several chapters, whereas I have left myself only one. Luncheon\nbeing over I said--\n\n\u201cAnd are you married?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes\u201d (with a blush), \u201cand are you?\u201d\n\nI could not blush. Why should I? And yet young people--especially the\nmost ingenuous among them--are apt to flush up on being asked if they\nare, or are going, to be married. If I could have blushed, I would. As\nit was I could only say that I was engaged and should marry as soon as I\ngot back.\n\n\u201cThen you have come all this way for me, when you were wanting to get\nmarried?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I have. My father on his death-bed told me to do so, and to\nbring you something that I have brought you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat trouble I have given! How can I thank you?\u201d\n\n\u201cShake hands with me.\u201d\n\nWhereon he gave my hand a stronger grip than I had quite bargained for.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said I, \u201cbefore I tell you what I have brought, you must\npromise me to accept it. Your father said I was not to leave you till\nyou had done so, and I was to say that he sent it with his dying\nblessing.\u201d\n\nAfter due demur George gave his promise, and I took him to the place\nwhere I had hidden my knapsack.\n\n\u201cI brought it up yesterday,\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cYesterday? but why?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause yesterday--was it not?--was the first of the two days agreed\nupon between you and our father?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo--surely to-day is the first day--I was to come XXI. i. 3, which would\nbe your December 9.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut yesterday was December 9 with us--to-day is December 10.\u201d\n\n\u201cStrange! What day of the week do you make it?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-day is Thursday, December 10.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is still stranger--we make it Wednesday; yesterday was Tuesday.\u201d\n\nThen I saw it. The year XX. had been a leap year with the Erewhonians,\nand 1891 in England had not. This, then, was what had crossed my\nfather\u2019s brain in his dying hours, and what he had vainly tried to tell\nme. It was also what my unconscious self had been struggling to tell my\nconscious one, during the past night, but which my conscious self had\nbeen too stupid to understand. And yet my conscious self had caught it\nin an imperfect sort of a way after all, for from the moment that my\ndream had left me I had been composed, and easy in my mind that all would\nbe well. I wish some one would write a book about dreams and\nparthenogenesis--for that the two are part and parcel of the same story--a\nbrood of folly without father bred--I cannot doubt.\n\nI did not trouble George with any of this rubbish, but only shewed him\nhow the mistake had arisen. When we had laughed sufficiently over my\nmistake--for it was I who had come up on the wrong day, not he--I fished\nmy knapsack out of its hiding-place.\n\n\u201cDo not unpack it,\u201d said I, \u201cbeyond taking out the brooches, or you will\nnot be able to pack it so well; but you can see the ends of the bars of\ngold, and you can feel the weight; my father sent them for you. The\npearl brooch is for your mother, the smaller brooches are for your\nsisters, and your wife.\u201d\n\nI then told him how much gold there was, and from my pockets brought out\nthe watches and the English knife.\n\n\u201cThis last,\u201d I said, \u201cis the only thing that I am giving you; the rest is\nall from our father. I have many many times as much gold myself, and\nthis is legally your property as much as mine is mine.\u201d\n\nGeorge was aghast, but he was powerless alike to express his feelings, or\nto refuse the gold.\n\n\u201cDo you mean to say that my father left me this by his will?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly he did,\u201d said I, inventing a pious fraud.\n\n\u201cIt is all against my oath,\u201d said he, looking grave.\n\n\u201cYour oath be hanged,\u201d said I. \u201cYou must give the gold to the Mayor, who\nknows that it was coming, and it will appear to the world, as though he\nwere giving it you now instead of leaving you anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it is ever so much too much!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not half enough. You and the Mayor must settle all that between\nyou. He and our father talked it all over, and this was what they\nsettled.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd our father planned all this, without saying a word to me about it\nwhile we were on our way up here?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. There might have been some hitch in the gold\u2019s coming. Besides\nthe Mayor told him not to tell you.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd he never said anything about the other money he left for me--which\nenabled me to marry at once? Why was this?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour mother said he was not to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cBless my heart, how they have duped me all round. But why would not my\nmother let your father tell me? Oh yes--she was afraid I should tell the\nKing about it, as I certainly should, when I told him all the rest.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell the King?\u201d said I, \u201cwhat have you been telling the King?\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything; except about the nuggets and the sovereigns, of which I knew\nnothing; and I have felt myself a blackguard ever since for not telling\nhim about these when he came up here last autumn--but I let the Mayor and\nmy mother talk me over, as I am afraid they will do again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen did you tell the King?\u201d\n\nThen followed all the details that I have told in the latter part of\nChapter XXI. When I asked how the King took the confession, George said--\n\n\u201cHe was so much flattered at being treated like a reasonable being, and\nDr. Downie, who was chief spokesman, played his part so discreetly,\nwithout attempting to obscure even the most compromising issues, that\nthough his Majesty made some show of displeasure at first, it was plain\nthat he was heartily enjoying the whole story.\n\n\u201cDr. Downie shewed very well. He took on himself the onus of having\nadvised our action, and he gave me all the credit of having proposed that\nwe should make a clean breast of everything.\n\n\u201cThe King, too, behaved with truly royal politeness; he was on the point\nof asking why I had not taken our father to the Blue Pool at once, and\nflung him into it on the Sunday afternoon, when something seemed to\nstrike him: he gave me a searching look, on which he said in an\nundertone, \u2018Oh yes,\u2019 and did not go on with his question. He never\nblamed me for anything, and when I begged him to accept my resignation of\nthe Rangership, he said--\n\n\u201c\u2018No. Stay where you are till I lose confidence in you, which will not,\nI think, be very soon. I will come and have a few days\u2019 shooting about\nthe middle of March, and if I have good sport I shall order your salary\nto be increased. If any more foreign devils come over, do not Blue-Pool\nthem; send them down to me, and I will see what I think of them; I am\nmuch disposed to encourage a few of them to settle here.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure,\u201d continued George, \u201cthat he said this because he knew I was\nhalf a foreign devil myself. Indeed he won my heart not only by the\ndelicacy of his consideration, but by the obvious good will he bore me. I\ndo not know what he did with the nuggets, but he gave orders that the\nblanket and the rest of my father\u2019s kit should be put in the great\nErewhonian Museum. As regards my father\u2019s receipt, and the Professors\u2019\ntwo depositions, he said he would have them carefully preserved in his\nsecret archives. \u2018A document,\u2019 he said somewhat enigmatically, \u2018is a\ndocument--but, Professor Hanky, you can have this\u2019--and as he spoke he\nhanded him back his pocket-handkerchief.\n\n\u201cHanky during the whole interview was furious, at having to play so\nundignified a part, but even more so, because the King while he paid\nmarked attention to Dr. Downie, and even to myself, treated him with\namused disdain. Nevertheless, angry though he was, he was impenitent,\nunabashed, and brazened it out at Bridgeford, that the King had received\nhim with open arms, and had snubbed Dr. Downie and myself. But for his\n(Hanky\u2019s) intercession, I should have been dismissed then and there from\nthe Rangership. And so forth. Panky never opened his mouth.\n\n\u201cReturning to the King, his Majesty said to Dr. Downie, \u2018I am afraid I\nshall not be able to canonize any of you gentlemen just yet. We must let\nthis affair blow over. Indeed I am in half a mind to have this Sunchild\nbubble pricked; I never liked it, and am getting tired of it; you Musical\nBank gentlemen are overdoing it. I will talk it over with her Majesty.\nAs for Professor Hanky, I do not see how I can keep one who has been so\nsuccessfully hoodwinked, as my Professor of Worldly Wisdom; but I will\nconsult her Majesty about this point also. Perhaps I can find another\npost for him. If I decide on having Sunchildism pricked, he shall apply\nthe pin. You may go.\u2019\n\n\u201cAnd glad enough,\u201d said George, \u201cwe all of us were to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut did he,\u201d I asked, \u201ctry to prick the bubble of Sunchildism?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh no. As soon as he said he would talk it over with her Majesty, I\nknew the whole thing would end in smoke, as indeed to all outward\nappearance it shortly did; for Dr. Downie advised him not to be in too\ngreat a hurry, and whatever he did to do it gradually. He therefore took\nno further action than to show marked favour to practical engineers and\nmechanicians. Moreover he started an aeronautical society, which made\nBridgeford furious; but so far, I am afraid it has done us no good, for\nthe first ascent was disastrous, involving the death of the poor fellow\nwho made it, and since then no one has ventured to ascend. I am afraid\nwe do not get on very fast.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid the King,\u201d I asked, \u201cincrease your salary?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes. He doubled it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what do they say in Sunch\u2019ston about our father\u2019s second visit?\u201d\n\nGeorge laughed, and shewed me the newspaper extract which I have already\ngiven. I asked who wrote it.\n\n\u201cI did,\u201d said he, with a demure smile; \u201cI wrote it at night after I\nreturned home, and before starting for the capital next morning. I\ncalled myself \u2018the deservedly popular Ranger,\u2019 to avert suspicion. No\none found me out; you can keep the extract, I brought it here on\npurpose.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt does you great credit. Was there ever any lunatic, and was he\nfound?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh yes. That part was true, except that he had never been up our way.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the poacher is still at large?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is to be feared so.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd were Dr. Downie and the Professors canonized after all.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot yet; but the Professors will be next month--for Hanky is still\nProfessor. Dr. Downie backed out of it. He said it was enough to be a\nSunchildist without being a Sunchild Saint. He worships the jumping cat\nas much as the others, but he keeps his eye better on the cat, and sees\nsooner both when it will jump, and where it will jump to. Then, without\ndisturbing any one, he insinuates himself into the place which will be\nbest when the jump is over. Some say that the cat knows him and follows\nhim; at all events when he makes a move the cat generally jumps towards\nhim soon afterwards.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou give him a very high character.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but I have my doubts about his doing much in this matter; he is\ngetting old, and Hanky burrows like a mole night and day. There is no\nknowing how it will all end.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the people at Sunch\u2019ston? Has it got well about among them, in\nspite of your admirable article, that it was the Sunchild himself who\ninterrupted Hanky?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt has, and it has not. Many of us know the truth, but a story came\ndown from Bridgeford that it was an evil spirit who had assumed the\nSunchild\u2019s form, intending to make people sceptical about Sunchildism;\nHanky and Panky cowed this spirit, otherwise it would never have\nrecanted. Many people swallow this.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Hanky and Panky swore that they knew the man.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat does not matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now please, how long have you been married?\u201d\n\n\u201cAbout ten months.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny family?\u201d\n\n\u201cOne boy about a fortnight old. Do come down to Sunch\u2019ston and see\nhim--he is your own nephew. You speak Erewhonian so perfectly that no\nhuman being would suspect you were a foreigner, and you look one of us\nfrom head to foot. I can smuggle you through quite easily, and my mother\nwould so like to see you.\u201d\n\nI should dearly have liked to have gone, but it was out of the question.\nI had nothing with me but the clothes I stood in; moreover I was longing\nto be back in England, and when once I was in Erewhon there was no\nknowing when I should be able to get away again; but George fought hard\nbefore he gave in.\n\nIt was now nearing the time when this strange meeting between two\nbrothers--as strange a one as the statues can ever have looked down\nupon--must come to an end. I shewed George what the repeater would do,\nand what it would expect of its possessor. I gave him six good\nphotographs, of my father and myself--three of each. He had never seen a\nphotograph, and could hardly believe his eyes as he looked at those I\nshewed him. I also gave him three envelopes addressed to myself, care of\nAlfred Emery Cathie, Esq., 15 Clifford\u2019s Inn, London, and implored him to\nwrite to me if he could ever find means of getting a letter over the\nrange as far as the shepherd\u2019s hut. At this he shook his head, but he\npromised to write if he could. I also told him that I had written a full\naccount of my father\u2019s second visit to Erewhon, but that it should never\nbe published till I heard from him--at which he again shook his head, but\nadded, \u201cAnd yet who can tell? For the King may have the country opened\nup to foreigners some day after all.\u201d\n\nThen he thanked me a thousand times over, shouldered the knapsack,\nembraced me as he had my father, and caressed the dog, embraced me again,\nand made no attempt to hide the tears that ran down his cheeks.\n\n\u201cThere,\u201d he said; \u201cI shall wait here till you are out of sight.\u201d\n\nI turned away, and did not look back till I reached the place at which I\nknew that I should lose the statues. I then turned round, waved my\nhand--as also did George, and went down the mountain side, full of sad\nthoughts, but thankful that my task had been so happily accomplished, and\naware that my life henceforward had been enriched by something that I\ncould never lose.\n\nFor I had never seen, and felt as though I never could see, George\u2019s\nequal. His absolute unconsciousness of self, the unhesitating way in\nwhich he took me to his heart, his fearless frankness, the happy genial\nexpression that played on his face, and the extreme sweetness of his\nsmile--these were the things that made me say to myself that the \u201cblazon\nof beauty\u2019s best\u201d could tell me nothing better than what I had found and\nlost within the last three hours. How small, too, I felt by comparison!\nIf for no other cause, yet for this, that I, who had wept so bitterly\nover my own disappointment the day before, could meet this dear fellow\u2019s\ntears with no tear of my own.\n\nBut let this pass. I got back to Harris\u2019s hut without adventure. When\nthere, in the course of the evening, I told Harris that I had a fancy for\nthe rug he had found on the river-bed, and that if he would let me have\nit, I would give him my red one and ten shillings to boot. The exchange\nwas so obviously to his advantage that he made no demur, and next morning\nI strapped Yram\u2019s rug on to my horse, and took it gladly home to England,\nwhere I keep it on my own bed next to the counterpane, so that with care\nit may last me out my life. I wanted him to take the dog and make a home\nfor him, but he had two collies already, and said that a retriever would\nbe of no use to him. So I took the poor beast on with me to the port,\nwhere I was glad to find that Mr. Baker liked him and accepted him from\nme, though he was not mine to give. He had been such an unspeakable\ncomfort to me when I was alone, that he would have haunted me unless I\nhad been able to provide for him where I knew he would be well cared for.\nAs for Doctor, I was sorry to leave him, but I knew he was in good hands.\n\n\u201cI see you have not brought your knapsack back, sir,\u201d said Mr. Baker.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said I, \u201cand very thankful was I when I had handed it over to those\nfor whom it was intended.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no doubt you were, sir, for I could see it was a desperate heavy\nload for you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed it was.\u201d But at this point I brought the discussion to a close.\n\nTwo days later I sailed, and reached home early in February 1892. I was\nmarried three weeks later, and when the honeymoon was over, set about\nmaking the necessary, and some, I fear, unnecessary additions to this\nbook--by far the greater part of which had been written, as I have\nalready said, many months earlier. I now leave it, at any rate for the\npresent, April 22, 1892.\n\n* * * * *\n\nPostscript.--On the last day of November 1900, I received a letter\naddressed in Mr. Alfred Cathie\u2019s familiar handwriting, and on opening it\nfound that it contained another, addressed to me in my own, and\nunstamped. For the moment I was puzzled, but immediately knew that it\nmust be from George. I tore it open, and found eight closely written\npages, which I devoured as I have seldom indeed devoured so long a\nletter. It was dated XXIX. vii. 1, and, as nearly as I can translate it\nwas as follows;-\n\n\u201cTwice, my dearest brother, have I written to you, and twice in\nsuccessive days in successive years, have I been up to the statues on the\nchance that you could meet me, as I proposed in my letters. Do not think\nI went all the way back to Sunch\u2019ston--there is a ranger\u2019s shelter now\nonly an hour and a half below the statues, and here I passed the night. I\nknew you had got neither of my letters, for if you had got them and could\nnot come yourself, you would have sent some one whom you could trust with\na letter. I know you would, though I do not know how you would have\ncontrived to do it.\n\n\u201cI sent both letters through Bishop Kahabuka (or, as his inferior clergy\ncall him, \u2018Chowbok\u2019), head of the Christian Mission to Er\u00ebwh\u00eamos, which,\nas your father has doubtless told you, is the country adjoining Erewhon,\nbut inhabited by a coloured race having no affinity with our own. Bishop\nKahabuka has penetrated at times into Erewhon, and the King, wishing to\nbe on good terms with his neighbours, has permitted him to establish two\nor three mission stations in the western parts of Erewhon. Among the\nmissionaries are some few of your own countrymen. None of us like them,\nbut one of them is teaching me English, which I find quite easy.\n\n\u201cAs I wrote in the letters that have never reached you, I am no longer\nRanger. The King, after some few years (in the course of which I told\nhim of your visit, and what you had brought me), declared that I was the\nonly one of his servants whom he could trust, and found high office for\nme, which kept me in close confidential communication with himself.\n\n\u201cAbout three years ago, on the death of his Prime Minister, he appointed\nme to fill his place; and it was on this, that so many possibilities\noccurred to me concerning which I dearly longed for your opinion, that I\nwrote and asked you, if you could, to meet me personally or by proxy at\nthe statues, which I could reach on the occasion of my annual visit to my\nmother--yes--and father--at Sunch\u2019ston.\n\n\u201cI sent both letters by way of Erewhemos, confiding them to Bishop\nKahabuka, who is just such another as St. Hanky. He tells me that our\nfather was a very old and dear friend of his--but of course I did not say\nanything about his being my own father. I only inquired about a Mr.\nHiggs, who was now worshipped in Erewhon as a supernatural being. The\nBishop said it was, \u201cOh, so very dreadful,\u201d and he felt it all the more\nkeenly, for the reason that he had himself been the means of my father\u2019s\ngoing to Erewhon, by giving him the information that enabled him to find\nthe pass over the range that bounded the country.\n\n\u201cI did not like the man, but I thought I could trust him with a letter,\nwhich it now seems I could not do. This third letter I have given him\nwith a promise of a hundred pounds in silver for his new Cathedral, to be\npaid as soon as I get an answer from you.\n\n\u201cWe are all well at Sunch\u2019ston; so are my wife and eight children--five\nsons and three daughters--but the country is at sixes and sevens. St.\nPanky is dead, but his son Pocus is worse. Dr. Downie has become very\nlethargic. I can do less against St. Hankyism than when I was a private\nman. A little indiscretion on my part would plunge the country in civil\nwar. Our engineers and so-called men of science are sturdily begging for\nendowments, and steadily claiming to have a hand in every pie that is\nbaked from one end of the country to the other. The missionaries are\nbuying up all our silver, and a change in the relative values of gold and\nsilver is in progress of which none of us foresee the end.\n\n\u201cThe King and I both think that annexation by England, or a British\nProtectorate, would be the saving of us, for we have no army worth the\nname, and if you do not take us over some one else soon will. The King\nhas urged me to send for you. If you come (do! do! do!) you had better\ncome by way of Erewhemos, which is now in monthly communication with\nSouthampton. If you will write me that you are coming I will meet you at\nthe port, and bring you with me to our own capital, where the King will\nbe overjoyed to see you.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\nThe rest of the letter was filled with all sorts of news which interested\nme, but would require chapters of explanation before they could become\ninteresting to the reader.\n\nThe letter wound up:-\n\n   \u201cYou may publish now whatever you like, whenever you like.\n\n   \u201cWrite to me by way of Erewhemos, care of the Right Reverend the Lord\n   Bishop, and say which way you will come. If you prefer the old road,\n   we are bound to be in the neighbourhood of the statues by the\n   beginning of March. My next brother is now Ranger, and could meet you\n   at the statues with permit and luncheon, and more of that white wine\n   than ever you will be able to drink. Only let me know what you will\n   do.\n\n   \u201cI should tell you that the old railway which used to run from\n   Clearwater to the capital, and which, as you know, was allowed to go\n   to ruin, has been reconstructed at an outlay far less than might have\n   been expected--for the bridges had been maintained for ordinary\n   carriage traffic. The journey, therefore, from Sunch\u2019ston to the\n   capital can now be done in less than forty hours. On the whole,\n   however, I recommend you to come by way of Erewhemos. If you start,\n   as I think possible, without writing from England, Bishop Kahabuka\u2019s\n   palace is only eight miles from the port, and he will give you every\n   information about your further journey--a distance of less than a\n   couple of hundred miles. But I should prefer to meet you myself.\n\n   \u201cMy dearest brother, I charge you by the memory of our common father,\n   and even more by that of those three hours that linked you to me for\n   ever, and which I would fain hope linked me also to yourself--come\n   over, if by any means you can do so--come over and help us.\n\n   \u201cGEORGE STRONG.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear,\u201d said I to my wife who was at the other end of the breakfast\ntable, \u201cI shall have to translate this letter to you, and then you will\nhave to help me to begin packing; for I have none too much time. I must\nsee Alfred, and give him a power of attorney. He will arrange with some\npublisher about my book, and you can correct the press. Break the news\ngently to the children; and get along without me, my dear, for six months\nas well as you can.\u201d\n\n* * * * *\n\nI write this at Southampton, from which port I sail to-morrow--i.e.\nNovember 15, 1900--for Erewhemos.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes\n\n\n{1} See Chapter X.","title":"Erewhon Revisited Twenty Years Later, Both by the Original Discoverer of the Country and by His Son","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":85292}