epub:type="z3998:name-title">Dr. Downie has become very lethargic. I can do less against St. Hankyism than when I was a private man. A little indiscretion on my part would plunge the country in civil war. Our engineers and so-called men of science are sturdily begging for endowments, and steadily claiming to have a hand in every pie that is baked from one end of the country to the other. The missionaries are buying up all our silver, and a change in the relative values of gold and silver is in progress of which none of us foresee the end.

“The King and I both think that annexation by England, or a British Protectorate, would be the saving of us, for we have no army worth the name, and if you do not take us over someone else soon will. The King has urged me to send for you. If you come (do! do! do!) you had better come by way of Erewhemos, which is now in monthly communication with Southampton. If you will write me that you are coming I will meet you at the port, and bring you with me to our own capital, where the King will be overjoyed to see you.”

The rest of the letter was filled with all sorts of news which interested me, but would require chapters of explanation before they could become interesting to the reader.

The letter wound up:⁠—

“You may publish now whatever you like, whenever you like.

“Write to me by way of Erewhemos, care of the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop, and say which way you will come. If you prefer the old road, we are bound to be in the neighbourhood of the statues by the beginning of March. My next brother is now Ranger, and could meet you at the statues with permit and luncheon, and more of that white wine than ever you will be able to drink. Only let me know what you will do.

“I should tell you that the old railway which used to run from Clearwater to the capital, and which, as you know, was allowed to go to ruin, has been reconstructed at an outlay far less than might have been expected⁠—for the bridges had been maintained for ordinary carriage traffic. The journey, therefore, from Sunch’ston to the capital can now be done in less than forty hours. On the whole, however, I recommend you to come by way of Erewhemos. If you start, as I think possible, without writing from England, Bishop Kahabuka’s palace is only eight miles from the port, and he will give you every information about your further journey⁠—a distance of less than a couple of hundred miles. But I should prefer to meet you myself.

“My dearest brother, I charge you by the memory of our common father, and even more by that of those three hours that linked you to me forever, and which I would fain hope linked me also to yourself⁠—come over, if by any means you can do so⁠—come over and help us.

“George Strong.”

“My dear,” said I to my wife who was at the other end of the breakfast table, “I shall have to translate this letter to you, and then you will have to help me to begin packing; for I have none too much time. I must see Alfred, and give him a power of attorney. He will arrange with some publisher about my book, and you can correct the press. Break the news gently to the children; and get along without me, my dear, for six months as well as you can.”


I write this at Southampton, from which port I sail tomorrow⁠—i.e. November 15, 1900⁠—for Erewhemos.

Endnotes

  1. See Chapter X.

Colophon

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Erewhon Revisited
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