I had not realised how serious the danger to my father would be if he
were recognised while he was in Erewhon, for I am ashamed to say that I
had not yet read his book. I had heard over and over again of his flight
with my mother in the balloon, and had long since read his few opening
chapters, but I had found, as a boy naturally would, that the succeeding
pages were a little dull, and soon put the book aside. My father,
indeed, repeatedly urged me not to read it, for he said there was much in
it--more especially in the earlier chapters, which I had alone found
interesting--that he would gladly cancel if he could. "But there!" he
had said with a laugh, "what does it matter?"
He had hardly left, before I read his book from end to end, and, on
having done so, not only appreciated the risks that he would have to run,
but was struck with the wide difference between his character as he had
himself portrayed it, and the estimate I had formed of it from personal
knowledge. When, on his return, he detailed to me his adventures, the
account he gave of what he had said and done corresponded with my own
ideas concerning him; but I doubt not the reader will see that the twenty
years between his first and second visit had modified him even more than
so long an interval might be expected to do.
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