He had put his nuggets into ten brown holland bags, and he had had secret pockets made for the old Erewhonian dress which he had worn when he escaped, so that he need never have more than one bag of nuggets accessible at a time.  He was not likely, therefore, to have been robbed.  His passage to the port above referred to had been paid before he started, and it seemed impossible that a man of his very inexpensive habits should have spent two hundred pounds in a single month—­for the nuggets would be immediately convertible in an English colony.  There was nothing, however, to be done but to cable out the money and wait my father’s arrival.

Returning for a moment to my father’s old Erewhonian dress, I should say that he had preserved it simply as a memento and without any idea that he should again want it.  It was not the court dress that had been provided for him on the occasion of his visit to the king and queen, but the everyday clothing that he had been ordered to wear when he was put in prison, though his English coat, waistcoat, and trousers had been allowed to remain in his own possession.  These, I had seen from his book, had been presented by him to the queen (with the exception of two buttons, which he had given to Yram as a keepsake), and had been preserved by her displayed upon a wooden dummy.  The dress in which he escaped had been soiled during the hours that he and my mother had been in the sea, and had also suffered from neglect during the years of his poverty; but he wished to pass himself off as a common peasant or working-man, so he preferred to have it set in order as might best be done, rather than copied.

So cautious was he in the matter of dress that he took with him the boots he had worn on leaving Erewhon, lest the foreign make of his English boots should arouse suspicion.  They were nearly new, and when he had had them softened and well greased, he found he could still wear them quite comfortably.

But to return.  He reached home late at night one day at the beginning of February, and a glance was enough to show that he was an altered man.  “What is the matter?” said I, shocked at his appearance.  “Did you go to Erewhon, and were you ill-treated there?”

“I went to Erewhon,” he said, “and I was not ill-treated there, but I have been so shaken that I fear I shall quite lose my reason.  Do not ask me more now.  I will tell you about it all to-morrow.  Let me have something to eat, and go to bed.”

When we met at breakfast next morning, he greeted me with all his usual warmth of affection, but he was still taciturn.  “I will begin to tell you about it,” he said, “after breakfast.  Where is your dear mother?  How was it that I have . . . "

Then of a sudden his memory returned, and he burst into tears.

I now saw, to my horror, that his mind was gone.  When he recovered, he said:  “It has all come back again, but at times now I am a blank, and every week am more and more so.  I daresay I shall be sensible now for several hours.  We will go into the study after breakfast, and I will talk to you as long as I can do so.”