cognise him; but as
long as my mother lived he would not leave her. When death had taken her
from him, he so evidently stood in need of a complete change of scene,
that even those friends who had most strongly dissuaded him from what
they deemed a madcap enterprise, thought it better to leave him to
himself. It would have mattered little how much they tried to dissuade
him, for before long his passionate longing for the journey became so
overmastering that nothing short of restraint in prison or a madhouse
could have stayed his going; but we were not easy about him. "He had
better go," said Mr. Cathie to me, when I was at home for the Easter
vacation, "and get it over. He is not well, but he is still in the prime
of life; doubtless he will come back with renewed health and will settle
down to a quiet home life again."

This, however, was not said till it had become plain that in a few days
my father would be on his way. He had made a new will, and left an ample
power of attorney with Mr. Cathie--or, as we always called him,
Alfred--who was to supply me with whatever money I wanted; he had put all
other matters in order in case anything should happen to prevent his ever
returning, and he set out on October 1, 1890, more composed and cheerful
than I had seen him for some time past.

I had not realised how serious the danger to my father would be if he
were recognised while he was in Erewhon, for I am ashamed to say that I
had not yet read his book. I had heard over and over again of his flight
with my mother in the balloon, and had long since read his few opening
chapters, but I had found, as a boy naturally would, that the succeeding
pages were a little dull, and soon put the book aside. My father,
indeed, repeatedly urged me not to read it, for he said there was much in
it--more especially in the earlier chapters, which I had alone found
interesting--that he would gladly cancel if he could. "But there!" he
had said with a laugh, "what does it matter?"

He had hardly left, before I read his book from end to end, and, on
having done so, not only appreciated the risks that he would have to run,
but was struck with the wide difference between his character as he had
himself portrayed it, and the estimate I had formed of it from personal
knowledge. When, on his return, he detailed to me his adventures, the
account he gave of what he had said and done corresponded with my own
ideas concerning him; but I doubt not t