eeks later, and when the honeymoon was over, set about
making the necessary, and some, I fear, unnecessary additions to this
book--by far the greater part of which had been written, as I have
already said, many months earlier. I now leave it, at any rate for the
present, April 22, 1892.

* * * * *

Postscript.--On the last day of November 1900, I received a letter
addressed in Mr. Alfred Cathie's familiar handwriting, and on opening it
found that it contained another, addressed to me in my own, and
unstamped. For the moment I was puzzled, but immediately knew that it
must be from George. I tore it open, and found eight closely written
pages, which I devoured as I have seldom indeed devoured so long a
letter. It was dated XXIX. vii. 1, and, as nearly as I can translate it
was as follows;-

"Twice, my dearest brother, have I written to you, and twice in
successive days in successive years, have I been up to the statues on the
chance that you could meet me, as I proposed in my letters. Do not think
I went all the way back to Sunch'ston--there is a ranger's shelter now
only an hour and a half below the statues, and here I passed the night. I
knew you had got neither of my letters, for if you had got them and could
not come yourself, you would have sent some one whom you could trust with
a letter. I know you would, though I do not know how you would have
contrived to do it.

"I sent both letters through Bishop Kahabuka (or, as his inferior clergy
call him, 'Chowbok'), head of the Christian Mission to Erewhemos, which,
as your father has doubtless told you, is the country adjoining Erewhon,
but inhabited by a coloured race having no affinity with our own. Bishop
Kahabuka has penetrated at times into Erewhon, and the King, wishing to
be on good terms with his neighbours, has permitted him to establish two
or three mission stations in the western parts of Erewhon. Among the
missionaries are some few of your own countrymen. None of us like them,
but one of them is teaching me English, which I find quite easy.

"As I wrote in the letters that have never reached you, I am no longer
Ranger. The King, after some few years (in the course of which I told
him of your visit, and what you had brought me), declared that I was the
only one of his servants whom he could trust, and found high office for
me, which kept me in close confidential communication with himself.

"About three years ago, on the death of his Prime Mini