MHMMn«MMMMIIBMMNix< v ' i; K R W I! () N X) \ K mn m ttm x mkmmmtmvmw mw^im ■ ■> li"" -^'f*^ \S. — i i i ii i ii -xi^^-- WI>t>lli*l!>tumBm>.: DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY The Glenn Negley Collection of Utopian Literature Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from Duke University Libraries .-" http://www.archive.org/details/erewhonoroverraOObutl EREWHON TRINTED BY BALLANTYNE AND COMPANY EDINBURGH AND LONDON EEEWHON OVER THE RANGE " ToO yap elvai ookovvtos ayaOov X'^P'-" t^o-vto. Trpdrrovcn travres. ' — Arist. Pol. " There is no action save upon a balance of considerations." —{Paraphrase). LONDON TRUBNER & CO., 60 PATERNOSTER ROW 1872 [All riyhts reserved} a. 2 PKEFACE. The Author wishes it to be understood tliat Erewhon is pronounced as a word of three syllables, all short — thus, E-re-whon. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE I. WASTE LASDS . . . . 1 II. DOWN IN THE WOOL-SHED . 9 III. UP THE RIVER .... 15 IV. THE SADDLE .... 22 V. THE RIVER AND THE RANGE 32 VI. INTO EREWHON .... 43 VII. FIRST IMPRESSIONS 53 VIII. IN PRISON ..... 62 IX. TO THE METROPOLIS 72 X. CDRRENT OPINIONS 85 XI. AN EREWHONIAN TRIAL . 95 XII. MALCONTENTS .... 102 XIII. MAHAINA ..... 112 XIV. THE MUSICAL BANKS .118 XV. AROWHENA .... 131 XVI. TDGRUN AND THE TDGRUNITES 141 XVII, BIRTH FORMULA .... 150 XVIII. THE WORLD OF THE UNBORN 157 CONTENTS. CHAP. XIX. WHAT THEY MEAN BY IT . XX. THE COLLEGES OF UNREASOX XXI. THE BOOK OF THE MACHINES XXII. THE MACHINES — Continued XXIII. THE MACHINES — concluded XXIV. ESCAPE XXV. CONCLUSION TAOE 167 ]75 190 198 209 224 237 CHAPTER L WASTE LANDS. TF the reader will excuse me, I will say nothing of •*- my antecedents, nor of the circumstances which led me to leave my native country; the narrative would he tedious to him and painful to myself. Suffice it, that when I left home it was with the in- tention of going to some new colony, and either find- ing, or even perhaps purchasing, waste crown land suitable for cattle or sheep farming, by which means I thought that I could better my fortunes more rapidly than in England. It will be seen that I did not succeed in my design, and that however much I may have met with that was new and strange, I have been unable to reap any pecuniary advantage. It is true, I imagine myself to have made a dis- covery which, if I can be the first to profit by it, will bring me a recompense beyond all money computation, and secure me a position such as has not been attained by more than some fifteen or sixteen persons, since ihe creation of the universe. But to this end I must possess myself of a considerable sum of money: neither do I know how to get it, except by interesting the public in my story, and inducing the charitable to come forward and assist me. With this hope I now A 2 ERE WHO K puljlish my adventures; but I do so with great reluct- ance, for I fear that my story will be doubted unless I tell the whole of it ; and yet I dare not do so, lest others with more means than mine should get the start of me. I prefer the risk of being doubted to that of being anticipated, and have therefore concealed my destination on leaving England, as also the point from which I began my more serious and difficult journey. My chief consolation lies in the fact that truth bears its own impress, and that my story will carry conviction by reason of the internal evidences for its accuracy. I am sure, that no one who is himself honest will doubt my being so. I reached my destination in one of the last months of 1868, but I dare not mention the season, lest the reader should gather in which hemisphere I was. The colony was one which had not been opened up even to the most adventurous settlers for more than eis-ht or nine years, having been previously uninhabited, save by a few tribes of savages, who frequented the seaboard. The part known to Europeans consisted of a coast line about eight hundred miles in length (affording three or four good harbours), and a tract of country extending inland for a space varying from two to three hundred miles, until it reached the offshoots of an exceedingly lofty range of mountains, which could be seen from far out upon the plain, and were covered with perpetual snow. The coast was perfectly well-known both north and south of the tract to which I have alluded, but in neither direction was there a single harbour for five hundred miles, and the mountains, which descended almost into the WASTE LANDS. 3 sea, were covered with thick timber, so that none would think of settling. With this bay of land, however, the case was different. The harbours were sufficient ; the country- was timbered, but not too heavily ; it was admir- ably suited for agriculture ; it also contained millions on millions of acres of the most beautifully grassed country in the world, and of the best suited for all manner of sheep and cattle. The climate was tem- perate, and very healthy ; there were no wild animals, nor were the natives dangerous, being few in number, and of an intelligent, tractable disposition. It may be readily understood that when once Europeans set foot ui3on this territory they were not slow to take advantage of its capabilities. Sheep and cattle were introduced, and bred with extreme rapidity; men took up their 50,000 or 100,000 acres of country, going inland one behind the other, till in a few years there was not an acre between the sea and the front ranges which was not taken up, and stations either for sheejD or cattle were spotted about at intervals of some twenty or thirty miles over the whole country. The front ranges stopped the tide of squatters for some little time ; it was thought that there was too much snow upon them for too many months in the year, — that the sheej) would get lost, the ground being too difficult for shej)herding, — that the expense of getting wool down to the ship's side would eat up the farmer's profits, — and that the grass was too rough and sour for sheep to thrive upon ; but one after another determined to try the experiment, and it was wonderful how successfully it turned out. Men pushed farther and farther into the mountains, and found a 4 EREWHON. very considerable tract inside the front range, be- tween it and another which was loftier still, though even this was not the highest, the great snowy one which could be seen from out upon the plains. This second range, however, seemed to mark the extreme limits of pastoral country ; and it was here, at a small and newly founded station, that I was received as a cadet, and soon regularly employed. I was then just twenty-two years old. I was delighted with the country and the manner of life. It was my daily business to go up to the top of a certain high mountain, and down one of its spurs on to the flat, in order to make sure that no sheep had crossed their boundaries. I was to see the sheep, not necessarily close at hand, nor to get them in a single mob, but to see enough of them here and there to feel easy that nothing had gone wrong ; this was no difficult matter, for there were not above eight hun- dred of them; and, being all breeding ewes, they were pretty quiet. There were a good many sheep which I knew, as two or three black ewes, and a black lamb or two, and several others which had some distinguish- ing mark whereby I could tell them. I would try and see all these, and if they were all there, and the miob looked large enough, I might rest assmed that all was well. It is surprising how soon the eye be- comes accustomed to missing twenty sheep out of two or three hundred. I had a telescope and a dog, and would take bread and meat and tobacco with me. Starting with early dawn, it would be night before I could complete my round; for the mountain over which I had to go was very high. In Aviuter it was WASTE LANDS. 5 covered with snow, and the sheep needed no watch- ing from above. If I were to see sheej) dung or tracks going down on to the other side of the mountain (where there was a valley with a stream — a mere ad de sac), I was to follow them, and look out for sheep; but I never saw any, the sheep always descending on to their own side, partly from habit, and partly be- cause there was abundance of good sweet feed, which had been burnt in the early spring, just before I came, and was now deliciously green and rich, while that on the other side had never been bm-nt, and was rank and coarse. It was a monotonous life, but it was very healthy ; and one does not much mind anything when one is well. The country was the grandest that can be ima- gined. How often have I sat on the mountain side and watched the waving downs, with the two white specks of huts in the distance, and the little square of garden behind them ; the paddock with a patch of bright green oats above the huts, and the yards and wool-sheds down on the flat below ; all seen as through the wrong end of a telescope, so clear and brilliant was the air, or as upon a colossal model or map spread out beneath me. Beyond the downs was a plain, going down to a river of great size, on the farther side of which there were other high moun- tains, with the winter's snow still not quite melted ; up the river, which ran winding in many streams over a bed some two miles broad, I looked upon the second great chain, and could see a narrow gorge where the river retired and was lost. I knew that there was a range still farther back ; but except from one place near the very top of my own mountain, no part of it was visi- 6 EREWHON. ble : from this point, however, I saw, whenever there were no clouds, a single snow-clad peak, many miles away, and I should think about as high as any moun- tain in the world. Never shall I forget the utter lone- liness of the prospect — only the little far-away home- stead giving sign of human handiwork; — the vast- ness of mountain and plain, and river and sky ; the marvellous atmospheric effects — sometimes black mountains against a white sky, and then again, after cold weather, white mountains against a black sky — sometimes seen through breaks and swirls of cloud — and sometimes, which was best of all, I went up my mountain in a fog, and then got above the mist; going higher and higher, I would look down upon a sea of whiteness, through which would be thrust innu- merable mountain tops that looked like islands. I am there now, as I write ; I fancy that I can see the downs, the huts, the plain, and the river-bed — that torrent pathway of desolation, with its distant roar of waters. Oh, wonderful ! wonderful ! so lonely and so solemn, with the sad grey clouds above, and no sound save a lost lamb bleating upon the mountain side, as though its little heart were breaking. Then there comes some lean and withered old ewe, with deep gruff voice and unlovely aspect, trotting back from the seductive pasture ; now she examines this gully, and now that, and now she stands listening with uplifted head, that she may hear the distant wailing and obey it. Aha ! they see, and rush towards each other. Alas ! they are both mistaken ; the ewe is not the lamb's ewe, they are neither kin nor kind to one another, and part in coldness. Each must cry louder^ and wander farther yet ; may luck be with WASTE LANDS. 7 them both, that they may find their own at night- fall. But this is mere dreaming, and I must pro- ceed. I could not help speculating upon what might lie farther up the river, and behind the second range. I had no money, but if I could only find workable country, I might stock it with borrowed capital, and consider myself a made man. True, the range looked so vast, that there seemed little chance of getting a sufficient road through it or over it ; but no one had yet explored it, and it is wonderful how one finds that one can make a path into all sorts of places (and even get a road for pack horses), which from a distance appear inaccessible ; the river was so great, that it must drain an inner tract — at least I thought so; and though every one said that it would be madness to attempt taking sheep further inland, I knew that, only three years ago, the same cry had been raised against the country which my master's flock was now over- running. I could not keep these thoughts out of my head, as I would rest myself upon the mountain side ; they haunted me as I went my daily rounds, and grew upon me from hour to hour, till I resolved that, after shearing, I would remain in doubt no longer, but saddle my horse, take as much provision with me as I could, and go and see for myself. But over and above these thoughts came that of the great range itself. What was beyond that ? Ah ! who could say ? There was no one in the whole world who had the smallest idea, save those who were them- selves on the other side of it — if, indeed, there was any one at all. Could I hope to cross it ? This would be the highest triumph that I could possibly wish for; 8 EREWHON. but it was too much to think of yet. I would try the nearer range, and see how far I could go. Even if I did not find country, might I not find gold, or diamonds, or copper, or silver ? I would sometimes lie flat down to drink out of a stream, and could see little yellow specks among the sand ; were these gold? People said no ; hut then people always said there was no gold until it was found to be abundant : there was plenty of slate and granite, which I had always understood to accompany gold ; and even though it was not found in paying quantities here, it might be abundant in the main ranges. These thoughts filled my head, and I could not banish them. CHAPTER II. DOWN IN THE WOOL-SHED. A Tlast shearing came; and with the shearers there was -^^ an old native, whom they had nicknamed Chow- bok — thongh, I believe, his real name was Kahabuka. He was a sort of chief of the natives, could speak a little English, and was a great favourite with the missionaries. He did not do any regular work with the shearers, but jDretended to help in the yards, his real aim being to get the grog, which is always more freely circulated at shearing-time : he did not get much, for he was apt to be dangerous when drunk, and very little would make him so : still he did get it occasionally, and if one wanted to get anything out of him, it was the best bribe to offer him. I deter- mined that I would question him, and get as much information from him as I could. I did so. As long- as I kept to questions about the nearer ranges, he was easy to get on with — he had never been there ; but there were traditions among his tribe, to the effect that there was no sheep-country, nothing, in fact, but stunted timber and a few river-bed flats. It was very difficult to reach ; still there were passes : one of them up our own river, though not directly along the river-bed, the gorge of which was not practicable ; he had never seen any one who had been there : was lo ERE WHOM there not enough on this side ? But when I came to the main range, his manner changed at once. He became uneasy, and began to prevaricate and shuffle. In a very few minutes I could see that of this too there existed traditions in the tribe ; but no eiforts or coaxing could get a word out of him about them. At last I hinted about grog, and presently he feigned consent : I gave it him ; but as soon as he had drunk it he began shamming intoxication, and then went to sleep, or pretended to do so, letting me kick him pretty hard, and never budging. I was angry, for I had to go without my own grog, and had got nothing out of him ; so the next day I determined that he should tell me before I gave him an}'', or get none at all. Accordingly, when night came, and the shearers had knocked off work and had their supper, I got my share of rum in a tin pannikin, and made a sign to Chowbok to follow me to the wool-shed, which he willingly did, slij)ping out after me, and no one taking any notice of either of us. When we got down to the wool-shed w^e lit a tallow candle, and having stuck it in an old bottle, we sat down upon the wool bales and began to smoke. A wool-shed is a roomy place, built somewhat on the same plan as a cathedral, with aisles on either side, full of pens for the sheep; a great nave, at the upper end of which the shearers work ; and a further space for wool sorters and packers. It always refreshed me with a semblance of antiquity (precious in a new country), though I very well knew that the oldest wool-shed in the settlement was not more than seven years old, while this was only two. Chowbok pretended that he expected his grog at once, DOWN IN THE WOOL-SHED. ir though we both of us knew very well what the other was after, and that we were each playing against the other, the one for grog, the other for information. "We had a hard fight : for more than two hours he had tried to put me off with lies, but had carried no conviction; during the whole time we had been morally wrestling with one another, and had neither of us apparently gained the least advantage; at length, however, I had become sure that he would give in ultimately, and that with a little fiu-ther patience I should get his story out of him. As upon a cold day in winter, when one has churned (as I had often had to do), and churned in vain, and the butter makes no sign of coming, at last one tells by the sound that the cream has gone to sleep, and then upon a sudden the butter comes, so I had churned at Chow- bok until I perceived that he had arrived, as it were, at the sleepy stage, and that, with a continuance of steady, unexcited pressure, the day was mine. On a sudden, without a word of warning, he rolled two bales of wool (his strength was very great) into the middle of the floor, and on the top of these he placed another crosswise ; he snatched up an empty wool pack, threw it like a mantle over his shoulders, jumped upon the uppermost bale, and sat upon it. In a moment his whole form was changed. His high shoulders dropped ; he set his feet close together, heel to heel, and toe to toe ; he laid his arms and hands close alongside of his body, the palms following his thighs ; he held his head high but quite straight, and his eyes stared right in front of him ; but he frowned horribly, and assumed an expression of face that was positively fiendish. At the best of times Chowbok was very ugly, but he now 12 EREWHON. exceeded all conceivable limits of tlie hideous. His mouth extended almost from ear to ear, his teeth grinning horribly ; his eyes glared, though they re- mained quite fixed, and his forehead was contracted with a most malevolent scowl. I am afraid that my description will have conveyed only the ridiculous side of his appearance ; but the ridiculous and the sublime are near, and the grotesque fiendishness of Chowbok's face approached this last, if it did not reach it. I tried to be amused, but I felt a sort of creeping at the roots of my hair and over my whole body, as I looked and wondered what he could be jiossibly intending to signify. He continued thus for about a minute, sitting bolt upright, as stiff as a stone, and making this fearful face. Then there came from his lips a low moaning like the wind rising and falling, by infinitely small gradations, till it became almost a shriek, from which it descended and died away; after that, he jumped down from the bale, and held up the extended fingers of both his hands, as one who should say '' ten," though I did not then understand him. For myself I was open-mouthed with astonishment. Chowbok rolled the bales rapidly into their place, and stood before me shuddering as in great fear; horror was written upon his face — this time quite involuntarily — as though the natural panic of one who had committed an awful crime against unknown and superhuman agencies. He nodded his head and gibbered, and pointed repeatedly to the mountains. He would not touch the grog, but, after a few seconds, he made a run through the wool-shed door into the moonlight; nor did he reappear till next day at dinner-time, when DOWN IN THE WOOL-SHED. 13 he turned up, looking very sheepish and abject in his civility towards myself. Of his meaning I had no conception. How could I ? All I could feel sure of was, that he had a mean- ing which was true and awful to himself. It was enough for me that I believed him to have given me the best he had, and all he had. Tliis kindled my imagination more than if he had told me intelligible stories by the hour together. I knew not what the great snowy ranges might conceal, but I could no longer doubt that it would be something well worth discoverinir. I kept aloof from Chowbok for the next few days, and showed no desire to question him further ; when I spoke to him I called him Kahabuka, which grati- fied him greatly : he seemed to have become afraid of me, and acted as one who was in my power. Having, therefore, made up my mind, past all turning, that I would begin exploring as soon as shearing was over, I thought it would be a good thing to take Chowbok with me; so I told him that I meant going to the nearer ranges for a few days prospecting, and that he was to come too. I made him promises of nightly grog, and held out the chances of finding gold. I said nothing about the main range, for I knew that it would frighten him. I would get him as far up our own river as I could, and trace it if possible to its source. I would then either go on by myself, if I felt my courage equal to the attempt, or return with Chowbok. So, as soon as ever shearing was over and the wool sent ofi", I asked leave of absence, and ob- tained it. Also, I bought an old pack-horse and pack- saddle, so that I might take plenty of provisions, and H EREWHON. Llaukets, and a small tent. I was to ride and find fords over the river ; Chowbok was to follow and lead the pack-horse, which would also carry him over the fords. My master let me have tea and sugar, ship's biscuits, tobacco, and salt mutton, with two or three bottles of good brandy; for as the wool was now sent down, abundance of provisions would come up with the empty drays. With the very beginning of autumn all was ready, and we started upon our journey. CHAPTER IIL UP THE RIVER. rPHE first day we had an easy time, following up the -*- great flats by the river side, which had already been twice burned, so that there was no dense under- growth to check us, though the ground was often rough, and we had to go a good deal upon the river-bed. Towards nightfall we had made a matter of some five-and-twenty miles, and camped at the point where the river entered upon the gorge. The weather was delightfully warm, considering that it was verging towards autumn, and that the valley in which we were encamped must have been at least two thousand feet above the level of the sea. The river-bed was here about a mile and a half broad, and entirely covered with shingle, over which the river ran in many winding channels, looking, when seen from above, like a tangled skein of ribbon, and glistening in the sun. We knew that it was liable to very sudden and heavy freshets; but even had we not known it, we could have seen it by the snags of trees, which must have been carried long distances, and by the mass of vegetable and mineral debris which was banked against their lower side, showing that at times the whole river-bed must be covered with a roaring torrent, many feet in depth, and of ungovernable fury. 1 6 EREWHON. At present the river was low, there being but five or six streams, too deep and rapid for even a strong man to ford on foot, but to be crossed safely on horseback. On either side of it there were still a few acres of flat, which grew wider and wider down the river, till they became the large plains, on which we looked from my master's hut. Behind us rose the lowest spurs of the second range, leading abruptly to the range itself; and at a distance of half a mile began the gorge, where the river narrowed and became boisterous and terrible. The beauty of the scene cannot be conveyed in language. The one side of the valley was blue with the evening shadow, through which loomed forest and precipice, and hill side and mountain top ; and the other was still brilliant with the sunset gold. The wide and wasteful river, with its ceaseless rushing — the beautiful water birds too, which abounded upon the islets, and were so tame that we could come close up to them — the ineffable purity of the air — the solemn peacefulness of the untrodden region — could there be a more delightful and exhilarating com- bination ? \Ye set about making our camp, close to some large bush which came down from the mountains on to the flat, and tethered out our horses upon ground as free as we could find it from anything round which they might wind the rope, and get themselves tied up. We dared not let them run loose, lest they might stray down the river, home again. We then gathered wood and lit the fire. We filled a tin pannikin Avith water, and set it against the hot ashes to boil. When the water boiled we threw in two or three large pinches of tea, and let them brew. UP THE RIVER. 17 "We had canglit lialf a dozen yonng ducks in the course of the day — an easy matter ; for the old birds made such a fuss in attempting to decoy us away from them, pretending to be badly hurt, as they say the plover does, that we could always find them by going about in the opposite direction to the old bird, till we heard the young ones crying : then we ran them down, for they could not fly, though they were nearly full grown. Chowbok plucked them a little, and singed them a good deal. Then we cut them up and boiled them in another pannikin, and this completed our preparations. When we had done supper it was quite dark. The silence and freshness of the night, the occasional sharp cry of the wood-hen, the ruddy glow of the fire, the subdued rushing of the river, fhe sombre forest, and the immediate foreground of our saddles, packs, and blankets, made a pictm'e worthy of a Salvator Rosa, or Isicolas Poussin. I call it to mind and delight in it now, but I did not notice it at the time. We next to never know when we are well off: but this cuts two ways, — for if we did, we should perhaps know better when we are ill off also ; and I have sometimes thought that there are as many ignorant of the one as of the other. He who wrote, " fortunatos 7iimium sua si bona norint agricolce^'' might have written quite as truly, '■'■ infortunatos nimium sua si mala norint;'"' and there are few of us who are not protected from the keenest pain by our inability.to see what it is that we have done, what* we are suffering, and what we truly are. This, however, is a digression. We found as soft a piece of gTound as we could — • though it was all stony — and having collected grass and B 1 8 ERE WHO X. SO disposed of ourselves tluit we had a little hollow for our hip-bones, we strapped our blankets around us, and went to sleep. Waking in the night I saw the stars overhead, and the moonlight bright upon the mountains. The river was ever rushing ; I heard one of our horses neigh to its companion, and was assured that they were still at hand ; I had no care of mind or body, save that I had doubtless many difficulties to over- come. There came u23on me a delicious sense of peace, a fulness of contentment which I do not believe can be felt by any but those who have spent days consecu- tively on horseback, or at any rate in the open air. Next morning we found our last night's tea-leaves frozen at the bottom of the pannikins, though it was still only the beginning of autumn ; we breakfasted as we had supped, and were on our way by six o'clock. In half an hour we had entered the gorge, and turning round a corner, we bade farewell to the last sight of my master's country. The gorge was narrow and precipitous : the river was now only a few yards wide, and roared and thundered against rocks of many tons in weight : the sound was deafening, for there was a great volume of water. "We were two hours in making less than a mile, and that with great danger; sometimes in the river, and sometimes on the rock. There was that damp black smell of rocks covered with slimy vegetation, as near some huge water- fall where spray is ever rising. The air was clammy and cold. I cannot conceive how our horses managed to keep their footing, especially the one with the pack, and I dreaded the having to return almost as much as going forward. I suppose this lasted three miles, but it was well midday when the gorge got a little wider, and a UP THE RIVER. 19 small stream came into it from a tribiitarj valley. Further progress up the main river was impossible, for the cliffs descended like walls ; so we went up the side stream, Chowbok seeming to think that here must be the pass of which reports existed among his people. I have so much to tell that I must condense this part of my story. SufHce it that after infinite trouble owino- to the rocks and tano:led veQ:etation, we got ourselves and our horses upon the saddle from which this small stream descended; by that time clouds had descended upon us, and it was raining heavily. Moreover, it was six o'clock, and we were tired out, having made perhaps six miles in twelve hours. On the saddle there was some coarse grass which was in full seed, and therefore very nourishing for the horses ; also abundance of annise and sowthistle, of which they are extravagantly fond, so we turned them loose, and prepared to camp. Everything was soak- ing wet, and we were half-perished with cold ; indeed, we were very uncomfortable. There was brushwood about, but we could get no fire till we had shaved off the wet outside of some dead branches, and filled our pockets with the dry inside chips. Having done this we managed to start a fire, nor did we allow it to go out when we had once started it ; we pitched the tent, and by nine o'clock were comparatively warm and dry. Next morning it was fine ; we broke camp, and after advancing a short distance, we found that, by descending over ground less difficult than yester- day's, we should come again upon the river-bed, which had opened out above the gorge ; but it was plain, at a glance, that there was no available sheep country, nothino- but a few flats covered with scrub on either 20 EREWHO.V. side the river, and mountains wliicli were perfectly worthless. But we could see the main range. There was no mistake about this. The glaciers were tum- bling down the mountain sides like cataracts, and seemed actually to descend upon the river-bed; there could be no serious difficulty in reaching them by following up the river, which was wide and open ; but it seemed rather an objectless thing to do, for the main range looked hopeless, and my curiosity about the nature of the country above the gorge was now quite satisfied : there was no money in it whatever, unless there should be minerals, of which I saw no more signs than lower down. However, I resolved that I would follow the river up, and not return until I was compelled to do so. I would go up every branch as far as I could, and wash well for gold. Chowbok liked seeing me do this, but it never came to anything, for we did not even find the colour. His dislike of the main range appeared to have worn off, and he made no objections to approach- ing it. I thought he believed that there was no danger of my trying to cross it, and he was not afraid of anything on this side ; besides, we might find gold. But the fact was, that he had made up his mind what to do if he saw me getting too near it. We passed three weeks in exploring, and never did I find time go more quickly. The weather was fine, though the nights got very cold. We followed every stream but one, and always found that it led us to a glacier which was plainlj'- impassable ; at any rate without a larger party and ropes. One stream re- mained, which I should have followed up already, had not Chowbok said that he had risen early one UP THE RIVER. ^ 2i' morning, while I was yet asleep, and gone ujo for three or four miles, and seen that it was quite impossible to go farther. I had long ago discovered that he was a great liar, so I was bent on going up myself: in brief, I did so : it was not impossible, it was quite easy travelling ; and, after five or six miles, I saw a saddle at the end of it, which, though covered deep in snow, was not glaciered, and which did verily appear to me to be part of the main range itself. No words of mine can convey any notion of my feelings. My blood felt all on fire with hope and elation ; but, on looking round for Chowbok, who was behind me, I saw, to my surprise and anger, that he had turned back, and was going down the valley as "hard as he cuuld. He had left me. CHAPTEr. IV. THE SADDLE. T COOEYED to liim, but he would not hear. I •*- ran after hhn, but he had got too good a start. Then I sat down on a stone and thought the matter care- fully over. It was plain that Chowbok had designedly attempted to keep me from going up this valley, yet he had shown no unwillingness to follow me any- where else. What could this mean, unless that I was now upon the route by which alone the mysteries of the great ranges could be revealed? What then should I do ? go back at the very moment when it had become plain that I was on the right scent? Hardly : yet to proceed alone would be a most difificult and dangerous undertaking. It would be bad enough to go back to my master's run, and pass through the rocky gorges, with no chance of help from another should I get into any difficulty ; but to advance for any considerable distance without a companion would be next door to madness. Accidents which are slight when there is another at hand (as the spraining of an ankle, or the falling into some place whence escape would be easy by means of an outstretched hand and a bit of rope), may be fatal to one who is alone. The more I pondered the less I liked it ; and yet, the less could I make up my mind to return when I looked THE SADDLE. 23 at the saddle at the head of the valley, and noted the comparative ease with which its smooth sweep of snow might be surmounted: I seemed to see my way almost from my present position to the very top. After much thought, I resolved that I would go forward until I should come to some place which was really dangerous ; bat that I would then return. I should thus, I hoped, at any rate reach the top of the saddle, and satisfy myself as to what might be on the other side. I had no time to lose, for it was now between ten and eleven in the morning, and the days had begun to shorten. Fortunately I was well equipped, for on leaving the camp and the horses at the lower end of the valley, I had provided myself (according to my custom) with everything that I was likely to want for four or five days. Chowbok had carried half, but had dropped his whole swag, — I sujipose, at the moment of his taking flight, — for I came upon it when I ran after him. I had, therefore, his provisions as well as my own. Accordingly, I took as many biscuits as I thought I could carry ; and also some tobacco, tea, and a few matches. I rolled them neatly inside my blankets : outside these I rolled Chowbok's blankets, and strapped them very tightly, making the whole into along roll of some seven feet in length, and ten inches in diameter. Then I tied the two ends together, and put the whole round my neck, and over one shoulder. This is the easiest way of carrying a heavy swag, for one can rest one's self by shifting the burden from one shoulder to the other. I strapped my pannikin and a small axe about my waist ; and, having thus prepared, I began to ascend the valley, angry at having been 24 EREWHON. misled by Cliow1)ok, but fully resolved tliat I would not return until I was compelled to do so. I crossed and recrossed the stream several times without difficulty, for there were many good fords. At one o'clock I was at the foot of the saddle; for four hours I mounted, the last two on the snow, where the going was easier ; by five I was within ten minutes of the top, in a state of excitement greater, I think, than I had ever known before. Ten minutes more, and the cold air from the other side came rushing upon me. A glance. I was not on the main range. Another glance. There was an awful river, mudily and horribly angry, roaring over an immense river- bed, thousands of feet below me. It went round to the westward, and I could see no forther up the valley, save that there were enormous glaciers which must extend round its source, and from which it must spring. Another glance, and then I remained motionless. There was an easy pass in the mountains directly opposite to me, through which I caught a glimpse of an immeasurable extent of blue and distant plains. Easy ? Yes, perfectly easy ; grassed nearly to tlie summit, which was, as it were, an open path between two glaciers, from which an inconsiderable stream^ cagie tumbling down over rough but very possible hill-sides, till it got down to the level of the great river, and formed a flat where there was grass and good timber. Almost before I could believe my eyes, a cloud had come up from the valley on the other side, and the plains were hidden. AVhat wonderful luck was mine ! Had I arrived five minutes later, the cloud would have THE SADDLE. 25 Leen over the pass, and I sliould never hare known of its existence. Now that the cloud was there, I began to doubt my memory, and to be uncertain whether it had been more than a blue line of distant vapour that had filled up the opening. I could only be certain of this much, namely, that the river in the valley below must be the one next to the northward of that which flowed past my master's station ; of this there could be no doubt. Could I, however, imagine that my luck should have led me up a TSTong river in search of a pass, and yet brought me to the spot where I should detect the one weak place in the forti- fications of a more northern basin ? This was too improbable. But even as I doubted there came a rent in the cloud opposite, and a second time I saw blue lines of heaving downs, growing gradually fainter, and retiring into a far space of plain. It was substantial ; there had been no mistake soever. I had hardly made myself completely sure of this ere the rent in the clouds joined up again, and I could see nothing more. What, then, should I do? The night would be upon me shortly, and I was already chilled with standing still after the exertion of climbing. To stay where I was would be impossible ; I must either go backwards or forwards. I found a rock which gave me shelter from the evening wind, and took a good pull at the brandy flask, which immediately warmed and encouraged me. I asked myself. Could I descend upon the river-bed beneath me ? It was impossible to say what precipices might prevent my doing so. If I were on the river- bed, dare I cross the river ? I am an excellent swim- 26 EREIVHON. mer ; yet, once in that friglitful rush of waters, I should be hurled whithersoever it willed, absolutely powerless. Moreover, there was my swag ; I should perish of cold and hunger if I left it, but I should certainly be drowned if I attemjited to carry it across the river. These were serious considerations, but the hope of finding an immense tract of available sheep country (which I was determined that I would mono- polise as far as I possibly could) sufficed to outweigh them ; and, in a few minutes, I felt resolved that, having made so important a discovery as a pass into a country which was probably as valuable as that on our own side of the ranges, I would follow it up as far as I possibly could, even though I should pay the penalty of failure with life itself. The more I thought, the more I was settled in my mind that I would either win for myself the chance of fame and fortune, by entering upon this unknown world, or consent to give up life in the attempt. In fact, I felt that life would be no longer valuable if I were to have seen so great a prize, and refused to grasp at the possible profits therefrom. I had still an hour of good daylight during which I might beg'in my descent on to some possible camping ground, but there was not a moment to be lost. At first I got along rapidly, for I was on the snow, and sank into it enough to save me from falling, though I went forward straight down the mountain side, as fast as I could ; but there was less snow on this side than on the other, and I had soon done with it, getting on to a coomb of dangerous and very stony ground, where a slip might have given me a disastrous fall. But I was careful with all my speed, and got THE SADDLE. 27 safely to tlie bottom, where there were patches of coarse grass, and an attempt here and there at brushwood : what was below this I could not see. I advanced a few hundred yards farther, and found that I was on the brink of a frightful precipice, which no one in his senses would attempt descending. I bethought me, however, to try the creek which drained the coomb, and see whether it might not have worn itself a smoother way. In a few minutes I found myself at the upper end of a chasm in the rocks, something like Twll Dhu, only on a greatly larger scale ; the creek had found its way into it, and had worn a deep channel through a material which appeared much softer than that upon the other side of the mountain. I believe it must have been a different geological formation, though I regret to say that I cannot tell what it was, except that it seemed to resemble that light friable kind of porphyry of which St Michael's and other churches are built at Coventry. I looked at this rift in great doubt, then I went a little way on either side of it, and found myself looking over the edge of horrible precipices on to the river, which roared some four or five thousand feet below me. I dared not think of getting down at all, unless I committed myself to the rift, of which I was hopeful, when I reflected that the rock was soft, and that the water might have worn its channel tolerably evenly through the whole extent. The darkness was increas- ing with every minute, but I should have twilight for another half hour, so I went into the chasm (though by no means without fear), and resolved to return and camp, and try some other path next day, should I come to any serious difficulty. In about five minutes 2S EREIVHON. I had completely lost my head ; the sides of the rift became huudreds of feet in height, and overhung so that I could not see the sky. It was full of rocks, and I had many falls and bruises. I was wet through from falling into the water, of which there was no great volume, but it had such force that I could do nothing against it ; once I had to leap down a not inconsiderable waterfall into a deep pool below, and my swag was so heavy that I was very nearly drowned. I had indeed a hair's-breadth escape ; but, as luck would have it. Providence was on my side. Shortly afterwards I began to fancy that the rift was getting wider, and that there was more brushwood. Presently I found myself on an open grassy slope, and feeling my way a little farther along the stream, I came upon a flat place with wood, where I could camp comfort- ably ; which was well, for it was now quite dark. My first care was for my matches ; were they dry ? The outside of my swag had got completely wet ; but, on undoing the blankets, I found things warm and dry within. How thankful I was ! I lit a fire, and was grateful for its warmth and company. I made myself some tea, and ate two of my biscuits : my brandy I did not touch, for I had little left, and I might want it when my courage failed me. All that I did, I did almost mechanically, for I could not realise my situa- tion to myself, being alone, and knowing that return through the chasm which I had just descended would be almost impossible ; and being utterly uncertain about the future. It is a dreadful feeling that of being cut off from all one's kind. I was still full of hope, and built golden castles for myself as soon as I was warmed with food and fire ; but I do not believe THE SADDLE. 29 that any man could long retain liis reason in sucli solitude, unless lie had the companionship of animals. One begins doubting one's own identity. I remember deriving comfort even from the sight of my blankets, and the sound of my watch ticking, — things which seemed to link me to other people ; but the screaming of the wood-hens frightened me, as also a chattering bird which I had never heard before, and which seemed to laugh at me; though I soon got used to it, and before long could fancy that it was many years since I had first heard it. I took off my clothes, and wrapped my inside blanket about me, till my things were dry. The night was very still, and I made a roaring fire ; so I soon got warm, and at last could put my clothes on again. Then I strapped my blanket round me, and went to sleep as near the fire as I could. I dreamed that there was an organ placed in my master's wool-shed : the wool-shed faded away, and the organ seemed to grow and grow amid a blaze of brilliant light, till it became like a golden city upon the side of a mountain, with rows upon rows of pipes set in cliffs and precipices, one above the other, and in mysterious caverns, like that of Fingal, within whose depths I could see the burnished pillars gleam- ing. In the front there was a flight of lofty terraces, at the top of which I could see a man with his head buried forward towards a key-board, and his body swaying from side to side amid the storm of huge arpeggioed harmonies that came crashing overhead and round. Then there was one who touched me on the shoulder, and said, '' Do you not see ? it is Handel; " — but I had hardly apprehended, and was 30 EREWHON. trying to scale the terraces, and get near him, when I awoke, dazzled with the vividness and distinctness of the dream. A piece of wood had burned through, and the ends had fallen into the ashes with a blaze : this, I sup- posed, had both given me my dream and robbed me of it. I was bitterly disap^Dointed, and sitting up on my elbow, came back to reality and my strange surround- ings as best I could. I was thoroughly aroused — moreover, I felt a fore- shadowing as though my attention were arrested by something more than the dream, although no sense in particular was as yet appealed to. I held my breath and waited, and then I heard — was it fanc}' ? Nay ; I listened again and again, and I did hear a faint and extremely distant sound of music, like that of an ^olian harp, borne upon the wind, which was blowing fresh and chill from the opposite mountains. The roots of my hair thrilled. I listened, but the wind had died ; and, fancying that it must have been the wind itself, — no ; on a sudden I remembered the noise which Chowbok had made in the wool-shed. Yes ; it was that. Thank Heaven, whatever it was, it was over now. I reasoned with myself, and recovered my firmness. I became convinced that I had only been dreaming more vividly than usual. Soon I began even to laugli, and think what a fool I was to be frightened at nothing ; and reminded myself that, even if I were to come to a bad end, it would be no such dreadful matter after all. I said my prayers, a duty which I had too often neglected, and in a little time fell into a really refreshing sleep, which lasted till broad day- THE SADDLE. 31 light, and restored me. I rose, and searching- among the embers of my tire, I found a few live coals, and soon had a blaze again. I got breakfast, and was delighted to have the company of several small birds, which hopped about me, and perched on my boots and hands. I felt comparatively happy, but I can assure the reader that I had had a far worse time of it than I have told him ; and I strongly recommend him to remain in Europe if he can ; or, at any rate, in some country which has been explored and settled, ratlier than go into places where others have not been before him. Exploring is delightful to look forward to and back upon, but it is not comfortable at the time, unless it be of such an easy nature as not to deserve the name. CHAPTER 7. THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. IVfY next business was to descend upon the river. I •^'-'- had lost sight of the pass which I had seen from the saddle, but had made such notes of it that I could not fail to find it. I was bruised and stiflf, and my boots had begun to give, for I had been going on rough ground for more than three weeks ; but, as the day wore on, and I found myself descending without serious difficulty, I became easier. In a couple of hours I got among pine forests where there was little under- growth, and descended quickly till I reached the edge of another precipice, which gave me a great deal of trouble, though I eventually managed to avoid it. By about three or four o'clock I found myself on the river-bed. From calculations which I made as to tlie lieight of the valley on the other side the saddle, I have since concluded that the saddle itself could not be less than nine thousand feet high ; and I should think that tlie river-bed, on to which I now descended, was three thousand feet above the sea level. The water had a terrific current, with a fall of not less than forty to fifty feet per mile. It was certainly the river next to tlie northward of that which flowed past my master's run, and would have to go through an utterly impassable THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. 33 gorge (as is commonly the case "with tlie rivers of that country) before it came upon known jDarts. It was reckoned to be nearly two thousand feet above the sea level where it came out of the gorge on to the plains. As soon as I got to the river side, I liked it even less than I thought I should. It was muddy, being near its parent glaciers. The stream was wide, rapid, and rough, and I could hear the smaller stones knock- ing against each other under the rage of the waters, as upon a sea shore. Fording was simply out of the question. I could not swim and carry my swag, and I dared not leave my swag behind me. My only chance was to make a small raft ; and that would be difficult to make, and not at all safe when it was made, — not for one man in such a current. As it was too late to do much that afternoon, I spent the rest of it in going up and down the river side, and seeing where I should find the most favour- able crossing. Then I camped early, and had a quiet comfortable night, with no more music, for which I was thankful, as it had haunted me all day, although I perfectly well knew that it had been nothing but my own fancy, brought on by the reminiscence of what I had heard from Chowbok, and by the over-excitement of the preceding evening. The next day I began gathering the dry bloom stalks of a kind of flag or iris-looking plant, which was abundant, and whose leaves, when torn into strips, were as strong as the strongest string. I brought them to the water side, and fell to making myself a kind of rough platform, which should suffice for myself and my swag, if I could only stick to'it. The stalks were ten or twelve feet long, and very strong, c 34 ERElVHOhT. but light and hollow. I made my raft entirely of them, binding bundles of them at right angles to each other, neatly and strongly, with strips from the leaves of the same plant, and tying other rods across. It took me all day till nearly four o'clock to make ; but I had still enough daylight to cross, and proceeded to do so. I had selected a place where the river got broad and comparatively still, some seventy or eighty yards above a furious rapid. At this spot I had built my raft. I now launched it, made my swag fast to the middle, and got on to it myself, keeping in my hand one of the longest blossom stalks, so that I might punt myself across as long as the water was shallow enough to let me do so. I got on pretty well for twenty or thirty yards from the shore, but even in this short space, I nearly upset my raft, by shifting too rapidly from one side to the other. The water then became much deeper, and I leaned over so far in order to get the bloom rod to the bottom, that I had to stay still, leaning on the rod for a few seconds. Then, when I lifted up the rod from the ground, the current was too much for me, and I found myself being carried down the rapid. Everything in a second flew past me, and I had no more control over my raft ; neither can I remember anything at all save a flying over furious waters, which in the end upset me. But it all came right, for I found myself near the shore, not more than up to my knees in the water, and pulling my raft to land, fortunately upon the left bank of the river, which was the one I wanted. How I had got there I do not know, but I was there, and not more than a mile or so below the point from THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. 35 wliicli I started. My swag was wet upon the outside, and I was myself dripping; but I had gained my point, and knew that my difficulties were for a time over. I then lit my fire and dried myself; also, I caught several ducks and young sea-gulls, which were abundant on the river-bed, so that I had a really good meal, of which I was in great want, having had an insufficient diet from the time that Chowbok left me. I thought of Chowbok, and felt how useful he had been to me, and in how many ways I was the loser by his absence, having now to do all sorts of things for myself which he had hitherto done for me, and could do infinitely better than I could. Moreover, I had set my heart upon making him a real convert to the Christian religion, which he had already embraced outwardly, though I cannot think that it had taken any deep root in his impenetrably stupid nature. I used to catechise him by our camp fire, and explain to him the mysteries of the Trinity and of original sin, with which I was myself familiar, having been the grandson of an archdeacon by my mother's side, to say nothing of the fact that my father was a clergy- man of the English Church. I was, therefore, suffi- ciently qualified for the task; and was the more inclined to it (over and above my real desire to save the unhappy creature from an eternity of torture), by recollecting the promise of St James, that if any one converted a sinner (which Chowbok surely was) he should hide a multitude of sins. I reflected, there- fore, that the conversion of Chowbok might, in some degree, compensate for irregularities and shortcomings in my own previous life, the remembrance of which 36 EREWHON. had been more than once unpleasant to me during my recent experiences. Indeed, on one occasion I had even gone so far as to "baptize him (as well as I could), having ascertained that he had certainly not been both christened and baptized, and gathering (from his telling me that he had received the name William from the missionary) that it was probably the first-mentioned rite to which he had been subjected. It appeared to me to be a most disgraceful piece of carelessness on the part of the missionary, that he should have omitted the second, and certainly more important ceremony, which I have always under- stood precedes christening, both in the case of infants and of adult converts ; and when I thought of the risks we were both incurring, I determined that there should be no further delay. Fortunately it was not yet twelve o'clock, so I baptized him at once from one of the pannikins (the only vessels I had) re- verently, and, I trust, efficiently. I then set myself to work to instruct him in the deeper mysteries of our belief, and to make him, not only in name, but in heart, a Christian. It is true that I might not have succeeded, for Chowbok was very hard to teach. Indeed, on the same night that I baptized him, he tried for the twentieth time to steal the brandy, which made me rather unhappy as to whether I could have baptized him rightly. He had a prayer-book — more than twenty years old — which had been given him by the missionaries, but the only thing in it which had taken any living hold upon him was the title of Adelaide, the Queen Dowager, which he would repeat whenever strongly moved or touched, and which did really seem THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. 37 to liave some deep spiritual significance to Mm, though he could never completely separate her in- dividuality from that of Mary Magdalene, whose name had also fascinated him, though in a less degree. He was indeed stony ground, but by digging about him I might have at any rate deprived him of all faith in the religion of his tribe, which would have been half way towards making him a sincere Christian; and now all this was cut off from me, and I could neither be of fm"tlier spiritual assistance to him, nor he of bodily profit to myself: besides, any company was better than being quite alone. I got very melancholy as these reflections crossed me, but when I had boiled the ducks and eaten them, I was much better. I had a little tea left, and about a pound of tobacco, which should last me for another fortnight, with moderate smoking. Also, I had eight ship biscuits, and, most precious of all, about six ounces of brandy, which I proceeded to re- duce to four, for the night was cold. I rose with early dawn, and in aa hour I was on my way, feeling strange, not to say weak, from the burden of solitude ; but full of hope when I con- sidered how many dangers I had overcome, and that this day should see me at the summit of the dividing- range. After a slow but steady climb of between three and four hours, during which I met with no serious hin- drance, I found myself upon a table land, and close to a glacier which I recognised as marking the summit of the pass. Above it towered a succession of rugged precipices, and snowy mountain sides. The solitude was greater than I could bear ; the mountain upon 38 EREWHON. mj master's sheep-rnn was a crowded tliorouglifare in comparison with this sombre sullen place. The air, moreover, was dark and heav}^, which made the loneliness even more oj^pressive. Tliere was an inky gloom over all that was not covered with snow and ice. Grass there was none. Each moment I felt increasing upon me that dread- ful doubt as to my own identity — as to the continuity of my past and present existence — which is the first sign of that distraction which comes on those who have lost themselves in the bush. I had fouoht as-ainst this feeling hitherto, and had conquered it; but the intense silence, and the gloom of this rocky wilderness, were too much for me, and I felt that my power of collecting myself was beginning to be impaired. I rested fur a little while, and then advanced over very rough ground, until I reached the lower end of the glacier. Then I saw another glacier, descending from the eastern side into a small lake. I passed along the western side of the lake, where the gi-ouud was easier, and when I had got about half way, I ex- pected that I should see the plains which I had already seen from the opposite mountains; but it was not to be so, for the clouds rolled up to the very summit of the pass, though they did not overlip it on to the side from which I had come. I therefore soon found myself enshrouded with a cold thin vapour, which prevented my seeing more than a very few yards in front of me. Then I came upon a large patch of old snow, in which I could distinctly trace the half-melted tracks of goats — and in one place, as it seemed to me, there had been a dog following them. Had I lighted upon a land of shepherds ? The ground, where not covered with snow, THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. 39 vras so poor and stony, and there was so little herbage, tliat I could see no sign of a path or regular sheep track. But I could not help feeling rather uneasy as I wondered what sort of a reception I might meet with if I were to come suddenly upon inhabitants. I was thinking of this, and proceeding cautiously through the mist, when I began to fancy that I saw some objects darker than the cloud looming in front of me. A few steps brought me nearer, and a shudder of unutterable horror ran through me, when I saw a circle of gigantic forms, many times higher than myself, upstanding grim and grey through the veil of cloud before me. I believe I fainted — for how long I shall never know. I was deadly sick and cold when I came to myself. There were the figures, quite still and silent, seen vaguely through the thick gloom, but in human shape indisputably. A sudden thought occurred tome, which would have doubtless struck me at once, had I not been j^re- possessed with forebodings at the time that I first saw the figures, and had not the cloud concealed them from me — I mean that they were not living beings, but statues. I determined that I would count fifty slowly, and was sure that the objects were not alive if during that time I could detect no sign of motion. How thankful was I when I came to the end of my fifty, and there had been no movement ! I counted a second time — but again all was still. I then advanced timidly forward, and in another moment I saw that my surmises were correct. I had come upon a sort of Stonehenge of rude and barbaric figures, seated as Chowbok had sat when 40 EREWHOiY. I questioned him in the wool-shed, and with the same superhumanly malevolent expression upon their faces. They had been all seated, but two had fallen. They were barbarous — neither Egyptian, nor Assyrian, nor Japanese — different from any of these, and yet akin to all. They were six or seven times larger than life, of great antiquity, worn and lichen grown. They were ten in number. There was snow upon their heads, and wherever snow could lodge. Each statue had been built of four or five enormous blocks, but how these had been raised and put together, is known to those alone who raised them. Each was terrible after a different kind. One was raging furiously, as in pain and great despair ; another was lean and cadaverous with famine ; another cruel and idiotic, but with tlie silliest simper that can be conceived — this one had fallen, and looked exquisitely ludicrous in his fall — the mouths of all were more or less open, and as I looked at them from behind, I saw that their heads had been hollowed. I was sick and shivering with cold. Solitude had unmanned me already, and I was utterly unfit to have come upon such an assembly of fiends in such a dread- ful wilderness and without preparation. I am afraid I cried, and I would certainly have given everything I had in the world to have been back at my master's station ; but that was not to be thought of : I felt sure tliat I could never get back alive. Then came a gust of howling wind, accompanied with a moan from one of the statues above me. I clasped my hands in fear. I felt like a rat caught in a trap, as though I would have turned and bitten at whatever tiling- was nearest me. The wildness of THE RIVER AND THE RANGE. 41 the wmd increased, the moans grew shriller, coming from several statues, and swelling into a chorus. I almost immediately knew what it was, but the sound was so unearthly that this was hut little consolation. The inhuman beings into whose hearts the Evil One had put it to conceive these statues, had made their heads into a sort of organ pipe, so that their mouths should catch the wind and sound with its blowing. It was horrible. However brave a man might be, he could never stand such a concert, from such lips, and in such a place. I heaped every invective upon them that my tongue could utter, as I rushed away from them into the mist, and even after I had lost sight of them, and turning my head round, could see nothing but the storm wraiths driving behind me, I heard their ghostly chanting, and felt as though one of them would rush after me, and grip me in his hand, and throttle me. I may say here that, since my return to England, I heard a friend playing some chords upon the organ which put me very forcibly in mind of the Erewhon- ian statues (for Erewhon is the name of the country upon which I was now entering). They rose most vividly to my recollection the moment my friend began. They are as follows, and are by the greatest of all musicians : — 42 EREIVIION. Prelude: arpeggio. 1=:^rx=-i— i--^ ^-r : T— T-ii r