To the Capital

With the above words the good man left the room before I had time to express my astonishment at hearing such extraordinary language from the lips of one who seemed to be a reputable member of society. “Embezzle a large sum of money under singularly distressing circumstances!” I exclaimed to myself, “and ask me to go and stay with him! I shall do nothing of the sort—compromise myself at the very outset in the eyes of all decent people, and give the death-blow to my chances of either converting them if they are the lost tribes of Israel, or making money out of them if they are not! No. I will do anything rather than that.” And when I next saw my teacher I told him that I did not at all like the sound of what had been proposed for me, and that I would have nothing to do with it. For by my education and the example of my own parents, and I trust also in some degree from inborn instinct, I have a very genuine dislike for all unhandsome dealings in money matters, though none can have a greater regard for money than I have, if it be got fairly.

With those words, the good man left the room before I could express my astonishment. Such extraordinary language had come from someone who seemed to be a respectable member of society. “Embezzle a large sum of money under particularly distressing circumstances!” I exclaimed to myself. “And ask me to stay with him! I will do nothing of the sort. I would compromise myself from the outset in the eyes of all decent people. And I would destroy my chances of converting them if they are the lost tribes of Israel. If they are not, I would destroy my chances of making money out of them! No. I will do anything rather than that.” The next time I saw my teacher, I told him I did not like the sound of his proposal. I would have nothing to do with it. My education and my parents’ example gave me a genuine dislike of all dishonest dealings with money. I trust that this dislike also comes partly from inborn instinct. Yet no one could value money more than I do, if it is earned fairly.

The interpreter was much surprised by my answer, and said that I should be very foolish if I persisted in my refusal.

The interpreter was very surprised by my answer. He said I would be very foolish if I continued to refuse.

Mr. Nosnibor, he continued, “is a man of at least 500,000 horse-power” (for their way of reckoning and classifying men is by the number of foot pounds which they have money enough to raise, or more roughly by their horse-power), “and keeps a capital table; besides, his two daughters are among the most beautiful women in Erewhon.”

“Mr. Nosnibor,” he continued, “is a man of at least 500,000 horsepower.” (They classify men by the number of foot-pounds they have enough money to raise. Or, more roughly, they classify them by their horsepower.) “He serves excellent meals, and his two daughters are among the most beautiful women in Erewhon.”

When I heard all this, I confess that I was much shaken, and inquired whether he was favourably considered in the best society.

When I heard all this, I admit I was quite shaken. I asked whether he was well regarded in high society.

“Certainly,” was the answer; “no man in the country stands higher.”

“Certainly,” came the answer. “No man in the country is more highly regarded.”

He then went on to say that one would have thought from my manner that my proposed host had had jaundice or pleurisy or been generally unfortunate, and that I was in fear of infection.

He went on to say that my manner made it seem as if my prospective host had suffered from jaundice, pleurisy, or some other misfortune. It also seemed as if I feared catching it.

“I am not much afraid of infection,” said I, impatiently, “but I have some regard for my character; and if I know a man to be an embezzler of other people’s money, be sure of it, I will give him as wide a berth as I can. If he were ill or poor—”

“I’m not very afraid of infection,” I said impatiently, “but I do care about my reputation. And if I know a man has stolen other people’s money, you can be sure I’ll avoid him as much as I can. If he were ill or poor...”

“Ill or poor!” interrupted the interpreter, with a face of great alarm. “So that’s your notion of propriety! You would consort with the basest criminals, and yet deem simple embezzlement a bar to friendly intercourse. I cannot understand you.”

“Ill or poor!” the interpreter interrupted, looking greatly alarmed. “So that’s your idea of proper behavior! You would associate with the worst criminals, yet you think simple embezzlement should prevent friendship. I can’t understand you.”

“But I am poor myself,” cried I.

“But I’m poor myself,” I cried.

“You were,” said he; “and you were liable to be severely punished for it,—indeed, at the council which was held concerning you, this fact was very nearly consigning you to what I should myself consider a well-deserved chastisement” (for he was getting angry, and so was I); “but the Queen was so inquisitive, and wanted so much to see you, that she petitioned the King and made him give you his pardon, and assign you a pension in consideration of your meritorious complexion. It is lucky for you that he has not heard what you have been saying now, or he would be sure to cancel it.”

“You were,” he said, “and you could have been severely punished for it. In fact, at the council held about you, it very nearly earned you a punishment I would consider well deserved.” (He was getting angry, and so was I.) “But the Queen was so curious and wanted so much to see you that she appealed to the King. She made him pardon you and grant you a pension in recognition of your admirable complexion. It is lucky for you that he has not heard what you have just said, or he would surely cancel the pension.”

As I heard these words my heart sank within me. I felt the extreme difficulty of my position, and how wicked I should be in running counter to established usage. I remained silent for several minutes, and then said that I should be happy to accept the embezzler’s invitation,—on which my instructor brightened and said I was a sensible fellow. But I felt very uncomfortable. When he had left the room, I mused over the conversation which had just taken place between us, but I could make nothing out of it, except that it argued an even greater perversity of mental vision than I had been yet prepared for. And this made me wretched; for I cannot bear having much to do with people who think differently from myself. All sorts of wandering thoughts kept coming into my head. I thought of my master’s hut, and my seat upon the mountain side, where I had first conceived the insane idea of exploring. What years and years seemed to have passed since I had begun my journey!

As I heard these words, my heart sank. I realized how difficult my position was, and how wicked it would be to go against established custom. I stayed silent for several minutes. Then I said I would be happy to accept the embezzler’s invitation. My instructor brightened and said I was a sensible fellow. But I felt very uncomfortable. When he had left the room, I thought over our conversation. I could make nothing of it, except that it showed an even more twisted way of seeing things than I had expected. This made me miserable, because I cannot bear having much to do with people who think differently from me. All sorts of wandering thoughts came into my head. I thought of my master’s hut and my seat on the mountainside, where I had first had the insane idea of exploring. It seemed as if years and years had passed since I began my journey!

I thought of my adventures in the gorge, and on the journey hither, and of Chowbok. I wondered what Chowbok told them about me when he got back,—he had done well in going back, Chowbok had. He was not handsome—nay, he was hideous; and it would have gone hardly with him. Twilight drew on, and rain pattered against the windows. Never yet had I felt so unhappy, except during three days of sea-sickness at the beginning of my voyage from England. I sat musing and in great melancholy, until Yram made her appearance with light and supper. She too, poor girl, was miserable; for she had heard that I was to leave them. She had made up her mind that I was to remain always in the town, even after my imprisonment was over; and I fancy had resolved to marry me though I had never so much as hinted at her doing so. So what with the distressingly strange conversation with my teacher, my own friendless condition, and Yram’s melancholy, I felt more unhappy than I can describe, and remained so till I got to bed, and sleep sealed my eyelids.

I thought of my adventures in the gorge, my journey here, and Chowbok. I wondered what Chowbok had told them about me when he got back. He had done well to go back. He was not handsome. In fact, he was hideous, and things would have gone badly for him. Twilight came, and rain pattered against the windows. I had never felt so unhappy, except during three days of seasickness at the beginning of my voyage from England. I sat thinking miserably until Yram appeared with a light and supper. She too, poor girl, was miserable, because she had heard that I was to leave them. She had decided that I would stay in the town forever, even after my imprisonment ended. I think she had also decided to marry me, though I had never even hinted at it. Between my distressingly strange conversation with my teacher, my own friendless state, and Yram’s sadness, I felt more unhappy than I can describe. I remained unhappy until I went to bed and sleep closed my eyes.

On awaking next morning I was much better. It was settled that I was to make my start in a conveyance which was to be in waiting for me at about eleven o’clock; and the anticipation of change put me in good spirits, which even the tearful face of Yram could hardly altogether derange. I kissed her again and again, assured her that we should meet hereafter, and that in the meanwhile I should be ever mindful of her kindness. I gave her two of the buttons off my coat and a lock of my hair as a keepsake, taking a goodly curl from her own beautiful head in return: and so, having said good-bye a hundred times, till I was fairly overcome with her great sweetness and her sorrow, I tore myself away from her and got down-stairs to the calèche which was in waiting. How thankful I was when it was all over, and I was driven away and out of sight. Would that I could have felt that it was out of mind also! Pray heaven that it is so now, and that she is married happily among her own people, and has forgotten me!

When I woke the next morning, I felt much better. It had been arranged for a carriage to pick me up at about eleven o’clock. The prospect of a change put me in good spirits, which even Yram’s tearful face could hardly spoil entirely. I kissed her again and again and assured her that we would meet again. In the meantime, I told her, I would always remember her kindness. I gave her two buttons from my coat and a lock of my hair as keepsakes. In return, I took a generous curl from her beautiful head. After saying goodbye a hundred times, I was overcome by her great sweetness and sorrow. I tore myself away and went downstairs to the carriage waiting for me. How thankful I was when it was all over and I had been driven away, out of sight. If only I could have felt that I was out of her thoughts as well! I pray heaven that she has now forgotten me and is happily married among her own people!

And now began a long and tedious journey with which I should hardly trouble the reader if I could. He is safe, however, for the simple reason that I was blindfolded during the greater part of the time. A bandage was put upon my eyes every morning, and was only removed at night when I reached the inn at which we were to pass the night. We travelled slowly, although the roads were good. We drove but one horse, which took us our day’s journey from morning till evening, about six hours, exclusive of two hours’ rest in the middle of the day. I do not suppose we made above thirty or thirty-five miles on an average. Each day we had a fresh horse. As I have said already, I could see nothing of the country. I only know that it was level, and that several times we had to cross large rivers in ferry-boats. The inns were clean and comfortable. In one or two of the larger towns they were quite sumptuous, and the food was good and well cooked. The same wonderful health and grace and beauty prevailed everywhere.

Now began a long and tedious journey, which I would hardly trouble the reader with even if I could. The reader is safe, however, because I was blindfolded for most of it. Each morning a bandage was placed over my eyes. It was removed only at night, when I reached the inn where we were to stay. We traveled slowly, although the roads were good. We drove with just one horse each day. It took us from morning until evening, about six hours, not counting a two-hour rest at midday. I do not suppose we averaged more than thirty or thirty-five miles a day. Each day we had a fresh horse. As I have already said, I could see nothing of the country. I only know that it was flat and that we crossed large rivers by ferry several times. The inns were clean and comfortable. In one or two of the larger towns, they were quite luxurious. The food was good and well cooked. The same wonderful health, grace, and beauty were found everywhere.

I found myself an object of great interest; so much so, that the driver told me he had to keep our route secret, and at times to go to places that were not directly on our road, in order to avoid the press that would otherwise have awaited us. Every evening I had a reception, and grew heartily tired of having to say the same things over and over again in answer to the same questions, but it was impossible to be angry with people whose manners were so delightful. They never once asked after my health, or even whether I was fatigued with my journey; but their first question was almost invariably an inquiry after my temper, the naiveté of which astonished me till I became used to it. One day, being tired and cold, and weary of saying the same thing over and over again, I turned a little brusquely on my questioner and said that I was exceedingly cross, and that I could hardly feel in a worse humour with myself and every one else than at that moment. To my surprise, I was met with the kindest expressions of condolence, and heard it buzzed about the room that I was in an ill temper; whereon people began to give me nice things to smell and to eat, which really did seem to have some temper-mending quality about them, for I soon felt pleased and was at once congratulated upon being better. The next morning two or three people sent their servants to the hotel with sweetmeats, and inquiries whether I had quite recovered from my ill humour. On receiving the good things I felt in half a mind to be ill-tempered every evening; but I disliked the condolences and the inquiries, and found it most comfortable to keep my natural temper, which is smooth enough generally.

I found that people were very interested in me. My driver told me he had to keep our route secret. Sometimes he even had to take detours to avoid the crowds that would otherwise have been waiting for us. Every evening I attended a reception. I grew thoroughly tired of answering the same questions over and over again. But it was impossible to be angry with people whose manners were so delightful. They never once asked about my health, or even whether I was tired from my journey. Instead, their first question was almost always about my mood. Its naivety astonished me until I grew used to it. One day I was tired and cold, and weary of repeating myself. I turned a little sharply to the person questioning me and said I was extremely cross. I could hardly have felt more displeased with myself and everyone else than I did at that moment. To my surprise, people expressed the kindest sympathy. I heard people whispering around the room that I was in a bad mood. They began to give me pleasant things to smell and eat. These really did seem to have some power to improve my mood. Soon I felt pleased, and people immediately congratulated me on feeling better. The next morning, two or three people sent their servants to the hotel with sweets. They also sent inquiries about whether I had fully recovered from my bad mood. When I received the treats, I was half tempted to be bad-tempered every evening. But I disliked the sympathy and the inquiries. I found it most comfortable to keep my usual temper, which is generally even enough.

Among those who came to visit me were some who had received a liberal education at the Colleges of Unreason, and taken the highest degrees in hypothetics, which are their principal study. These gentlemen had now settled down to various employments in the country, as straighteners, managers and cashiers of the Musical Banks, priests of religion, or what not, and carrying their education with them they diffused a leaven of culture throughout the country. I naturally questioned them about many of the things which had puzzled me since my arrival. I inquired what was the object and meaning of the statues which I had seen upon the plateau of the pass. I was told that they dated from a very remote period, and that there were several other such groups in the country, but none so remarkable as the one which I had seen. They had a religious origin, having been designed to propitiate the gods of deformity and disease. In former times it had been the custom to make expeditions over the ranges, and capture the ugliest of Chowbok’s ancestors whom they could find, in order to sacrifice them in the presence of these deities, and thus avert ugliness and disease from the Erewhonians themselves. It had been whispered (but my informant assured me untruly) that centuries ago they had even offered up some of their own people who were ugly or out of health, in order to make examples of them; these detestable customs, however, had been long discontinued; neither was there any present observance of the statues.

Among my visitors were some who had received a broad education at the Colleges of Unreason. They had earned the highest degrees in hypothetics, their main subject of study. These gentlemen had since settled into various jobs across the country. Some were straighteners, managers and cashiers of the Musical Banks, priests of religion, or the like. They brought their education with them and spread a leaven of culture throughout the country. Naturally, I asked them about many things that had puzzled me since my arrival. I asked about the purpose and meaning of the statues I had seen on the plateau of the pass. I was told that they dated from a very distant time. There were several other groups like them in the country, but none as remarkable as the one I had seen. The statues had a religious origin. They had been made to appease the gods of deformity and disease. In former times, people had made expeditions across the ranges to capture the ugliest of Chowbok’s ancestors they could find. They sacrificed them before these gods to keep ugliness and disease away from the Erewhonians themselves. There had even been whispers that, centuries ago, they had sacrificed some of their own people who were ugly or unhealthy. They had done this to make examples of them. But my informant assured me that these whispers were untrue. In any case, these detestable customs had long been abandoned, and the statues were no longer used in any ceremonies.

I had the curiosity to inquire what would be done to any of Chowbok’s tribe if they crossed over into Erewhon. I was told that nobody knew, inasmuch as such a thing had not happened for ages. They would be too ugly to be allowed to go at large, but not so much so as to be criminally liable. Their offence in having come would be a moral one; but they would be beyond the straightener’s art. Possibly they would be consigned to the Hospital for Incurable Bores, and made to work at being bored for so many hours a day by the Erewhonian inhabitants of the hospital, who are extremely impatient of one another’s boredom, but would soon die if they had no one whom they might bore—in fact, that they would be kept as professional borees. When I heard this, it occurred to me that some rumours of its substance might perhaps have become current among Chowbok’s people; for the agony of his fear had been too great to have been inspired by the mere dread of being burnt alive before the statues.

I was curious to know what would happen if any of Chowbok’s tribe crossed into Erewhon. I was told that nobody knew, because it had not happened for ages. They would be too ugly to be allowed to move about freely, but not ugly enough to be held criminally liable. Coming to Erewhon would be a moral offence, but they would be beyond the straightener’s skill. Perhaps they would be sent to the Hospital for Incurable Bores. There they would be made to spend a set number of hours each day being bored by the hospital’s Erewhonian inhabitants. These inhabitants are extremely impatient with one another’s boredom, but would soon die if they had no one to bore. In fact, Chowbok’s people would be kept as professional borees. When I heard this, I thought that some rumours of it might perhaps have reached Chowbok’s people. His fear had been too agonizing to have come merely from the dread of being burnt alive before the statues.

I also questioned them about the museum of old machines, and the cause of the apparent retrogression in all arts, sciences, and inventions. I learnt that about four hundred years previously, the state of mechanical knowledge was far beyond our own, and was advancing with prodigious rapidity, until one of the most learned professors of hypothetics wrote an extraordinary book (from which I propose to give extracts later on), proving that the machines were ultimately destined to supplant the race of man, and to become instinct with a vitality as different from, and superior to, that of animals, as animal to vegetable life. So convincing was his reasoning, or unreasoning, to this effect, that he carried the country with him; and they made a clean sweep of all machinery that had not been in use for more than two hundred and seventy-one years (which period was arrived at after a series of compromises), and strictly forbade all further improvements and inventions under pain of being considered in the eye of the law to be labouring under typhus fever, which they regard as one of the worst of all crimes.

I also asked them about the museum of old machines. I wanted to know why all arts, sciences, and inventions seemed to have gone backward. I learned that about four hundred years earlier, mechanical knowledge had been far beyond our own. It had also been advancing with astonishing speed. Then one of the most learned professors of hypothetics wrote an extraordinary book. I plan to give extracts from it later. In the book, he proved that machines were ultimately destined to replace the human race. He argued that they would come to possess a form of life as different from and superior to animal life as animal life is to plant life. His reasoning, or lack of reasoning, was so convincing that he won the whole country over. The people destroyed all machinery that had not been in use for more than two hundred and seventy-one years. They had settled on that period after a series of compromises. They also strictly forbade all further improvements and inventions. Anyone who broke this rule would be treated in the eyes of the law as suffering from typhus fever, which they regard as one of the worst of all crimes.

This is the only case in which they have confounded mental and physical diseases, and they do it even here as by an avowed legal fiction. I became uneasy when I remembered about my watch; but they comforted me with the assurance that transgression in this matter was now so unheard of, that the law could afford to be lenient towards an utter stranger, especially towards one who had such a good character (they meant physique), and such beautiful light hair. Moreover the watch was a real curiosity, and would be a welcome addition to the metropolitan collection; so they did not think I need let it trouble me seriously.

This is the only case where they confuse mental and physical illnesses. Even here, they openly treat it as a legal fiction. I grew uneasy when I remembered my watch. But they assured me that breaking this law was now so unheard of that they could afford to be lenient. They could be lenient with a complete stranger, especially one with such a good character and such beautiful light hair. By character, they meant physique. Besides, the watch was a real curiosity and would be a welcome addition to the capital’s collection. So they did not think I needed to worry about it seriously.

I will write, however, more fully upon this subject when I deal with the Colleges of Unreason, and the Book of the Machines.

However, I will write more fully on this subject when I discuss the Colleges of Unreason and the Book of the Machines.

In about a month from the time of our starting I was told that our journey was nearly over. The bandage was now dispensed with, for it seemed impossible that I should ever be able to find my way back without being captured. Then we rolled merrily along through the streets of a handsome town, and got on to a long, broad, and level road, with poplar trees on either side. The road was raised slightly above the surrounding country, and had formerly been a railway; the fields on either side were in the highest conceivable cultivation, but the harvest and also the vintage had been already gathered. The weather had got cooler more rapidly than could be quite accounted for by the progress of the season; so I rather thought that we must have been making away from the sun, and were some degrees farther from the equator than when we started. Even here the vegetation showed that the climate was a hot one, yet there was no lack of vigour among the people; on the contrary, they were a very hardy race, and capable of great endurance. For the hundredth time I thought that, take them all round, I had never seen their equals in respect of physique, and they looked as good-natured as they were robust. The flowers were for the most part over, but their absence was in some measure compensated for by a profusion of delicious fruit, closely resembling the figs, peaches, and pears of Italy and France. I saw no wild animals, but birds were plentiful and much as in Europe, but not tame as they had been on the other side the ranges. They were shot at with the cross-bow and with arrows, gunpowder being unknown, or at any rate not in use.

About a month after we set out, I was told that our journey was nearly over. I no longer had to wear the blindfold. It seemed impossible that I could ever find my way back without being captured. We rolled merrily through the streets of a handsome town and onto a long, broad, level road lined with poplar trees. The road stood slightly above the surrounding countryside and had once been a railway. The fields on either side were cultivated as well as one could imagine. But the crops and grapes had already been harvested. The weather had cooled more rapidly than the change of season alone could explain. So I thought we must have been traveling away from the sun. We were probably several degrees farther from the equator than when we started. Even here, the vegetation showed that the climate was hot. Yet the people were full of energy. In fact, they were a very hardy race, capable of great endurance. For the hundredth time, I thought that, overall, I had never seen their equals in physique. They looked as good-natured as they were robust. Most of the flowers had faded, but their absence was partly made up for by an abundance of delicious fruit. It closely resembled the figs, peaches, and pears of Italy and France. I saw no wild animals, but birds were plentiful and much like those in Europe. They were not tame, as they had been on the other side of the mountain ranges. People shot at them with crossbows and arrows. Gunpowder was unknown, or at least not in use.

We were now nearing the metropolis and I could see great towers and fortifications, and lofty buildings that looked like palaces. I began to be nervous as to my reception; but I had got on very well so far, and resolved to continue upon the same plan as hitherto—namely, to behave just as though I were in England until I saw that I was making a blunder, and then to say nothing till I could gather how the land lay. We drew nearer and nearer. The news of my approach had got abroad, and there was a great crowd collected on either side the road, who greeted me with marks of most respectful curiosity, keeping me bowing constantly in acknowledgement from side to side.

We were now nearing the capital. I could see great towers and fortifications, and tall buildings that looked like palaces. I began to feel nervous about how I would be received. But I had done very well so far, and I decided to continue with the same plan. I would behave just as though I were in England until I saw that I was making a mistake. Then I would say nothing until I could work out what was going on. We drew closer and closer. News of my approach had spread, and a great crowd had gathered on both sides of the road. They greeted me with great respect and curiosity, and I kept bowing from side to side in acknowledgment.

When we were about a mile off, we were met by the Mayor and several Councillors, among whom was a venerable old man, who was introduced to me by the Mayor (for so I suppose I should call him) as the gentleman who had invited me to his house. I bowed deeply and told him how grateful I felt to him, and how gladly I would accept his hospitality. He forbade me to say more, and pointing to his carriage, which was close at hand, he motioned me to a seat therein. I again bowed profoundly to the Mayor and Councillors, and drove off with my entertainer, whose name was Senoj Nosnibor. After about half a mile the carriage turned off the main road, and we drove under the walls of the town till we reached a palazzo on a slight eminence, and just on the outskirts of the city. This was Senoj Nosnibor’s house, and nothing can be imagined finer. It was situated near the magnificent and venerable ruins of the old railway station, which formed an imposing feature from the gardens of the house. The grounds, some ten or a dozen acres in extent, were laid out in terraced gardens, one above the other, with flights of broad steps ascending and descending the declivity of the garden. On these steps there were statues of most exquisite workmanship. Besides the statues there were vases filled with various shrubs that were new to me; and on either side the flights of steps there were rows of old cypresses and cedars, with grassy alleys between them. Then came choice vineyards and orchards of fruit-trees in full bearing.

When we were about a mile away, the Mayor and several Councillors met us. Among them was a venerable old man. The Mayor, as I suppose I should call him, introduced the man as the gentleman who had invited me to his house. I bowed deeply and told him how grateful I was and how gladly I would accept his hospitality. He stopped me from saying more. Pointing to his carriage nearby, he motioned me to take a seat inside. I bowed deeply again to the Mayor and Councillors, then drove off with my host, whose name was Senoj Nosnibor. After about half a mile, the carriage turned off the main road. We drove along the town walls until we reached a palazzo on a slight rise, just outside the city. This was Senoj Nosnibor’s house, and nothing could have been finer. It stood near the magnificent, ancient ruins of the old railway station, an imposing sight from the gardens. The grounds covered ten or twelve acres and were laid out in terraces, one above another. Broad flights of steps led up and down the sloping garden. On the steps stood exquisitely crafted statues and vases filled with shrubs I had never seen before. Rows of old cypresses and cedars lined both sides of the steps, with grassy paths between them. Beyond these were fine vineyards and orchards full of fruit.

The house itself was approached by a court-yard, and round it was a corridor on to which rooms opened, as at Pompeii. In the middle of the court there was a bath and a fountain. Having passed the court we came to the main body of the house, which was two stories in height. The rooms were large and lofty; perhaps at first they looked rather bare of furniture, but in hot climates people generally keep their rooms more bare than they do in colder ones. I missed also the sight of a grand piano or some similar instrument, there being no means of producing music in any of the rooms save the larger drawing-room, where there were half a dozen large bronze gongs, which the ladies used occasionally to beat about at random. It was not pleasant to hear them, but I have heard quite as unpleasant music both before and since.

The house was reached through a courtyard. A corridor ran around it, with rooms opening onto the corridor, as at Pompeii. In the middle of the courtyard were a bath and a fountain. Beyond the courtyard we came to the main part of the house, which was two stories high. The rooms were large, with high ceilings. Perhaps they seemed rather bare at first, but people in hot climates generally use less furniture than people in colder ones. I also missed seeing a grand piano or a similar instrument. There was no way to make music in any room except the larger drawing room. There, half a dozen large bronze gongs stood, which the ladies occasionally beat at random. They were not pleasant to hear, but I have heard music just as unpleasant both before and since.

Mr. Nosnibor took me through several spacious rooms till we reached a boudoir where were his wife and daughters, of whom I had heard from the interpreter. Mrs. Nosnibor was about forty years old, and still handsome, but she had grown very stout: her daughters were in the prime of youth and exquisitely beautiful. I gave the preference almost at once to the younger, whose name was Arowhena; for the elder sister was haughty, while the younger had a very winning manner. Mrs. Nosnibor received me with the perfection of courtesy, so that I must have indeed been shy and nervous if I had not at once felt welcome. Scarcely was the ceremony of my introduction well completed before a servant announced that dinner was ready in the next room. I was exceedingly hungry, and the dinner was beyond all praise. Can the reader wonder that I began to consider myself in excellent quarters? “That man embezzle money?” thought I to myself; “impossible.”

Mr. Nosnibor led me through several spacious rooms until we reached a sitting room. His wife and daughters were there, and I had heard about them from the interpreter. Mrs. Nosnibor was about forty and still handsome, but she had become very stout. Her daughters were in the prime of youth and exquisitely beautiful. Almost at once, I preferred the younger daughter, whose name was Arowhena. The elder sister was haughty, while Arowhena had a very charming manner. Mrs. Nosnibor greeted me with perfect courtesy. I would have had to be very shy and nervous not to feel welcome at once. My introduction was barely over when a servant announced that dinner was ready in the next room. I was extremely hungry, and the dinner was beyond all praise. Can the reader wonder that I began to think I was staying in an excellent place? “That man embezzle money?” I thought to myself. “Impossible.”

But I noticed that my host was uneasy during the whole meal, and that he ate nothing but a little bread and milk; towards the end of dinner there came a tall lean man with a black beard, to whom Mr. Nosnibor and the whole family paid great attention: he was the family straightener. With this gentleman Mr. Nosnibor retired into another room, from which there presently proceeded a sound of weeping and wailing. I could hardly believe my ears, but in a few minutes I got to know for a certainty that they came from Mr. Nosnibor himself.

But I noticed that my host was uneasy throughout the meal. He ate nothing but a little bread and milk. Near the end of dinner, a tall, thin man with a black beard arrived. Mr. Nosnibor and the whole family paid him great attention. He was the family straightener. Mr. Nosnibor went with him into another room. Soon, I heard weeping and wailing from the room. I could hardly believe my ears, but within a few minutes I knew for certain that the cries came from Mr. Nosnibor himself.

“Poor papa,” said Arowhena, as she helped herself composedly to the salt, “how terribly he has suffered.”

“Poor Papa,” said Arowhena, calmly helping herself to the salt, “how terribly he has suffered.”

“Yes,” answered her mother; “but I think he is quite out of danger now.”

“Yes,” her mother replied, “but I think he is completely out of danger now.”

Then they went on to explain to me the circumstances of the case, and the treatment which the straightener had prescribed, and how successful he had been—all which I will reserve for another chapter, and put rather in the form of a general summary of the opinions current upon these subjects than in the exact words in which the facts were delivered to me; the reader, however, is earnestly requested to believe that both in this next chapter and in those that follow it I have endeavoured to adhere most conscientiously to the strictest accuracy, and that I have never willingly misrepresented, though I may have sometimes failed to understand all the bearings of an opinion or custom.

Then they explained the circumstances of the case, the treatment the straightener had prescribed, and how successful he had been. I will save all this for another chapter. Rather than repeat their exact words, I will summarize the opinions commonly held on these subjects. However, I earnestly ask the reader to believe that I have tried to be scrupulously accurate in the next chapter and those that follow. I have never knowingly misrepresented anything, though I may sometimes have failed to understand all the implications of an opinion or custom.