Page 98 - erewhon

graziato, ha ammazzato suo zio.’ (“Poor unfortunate fellow,
he has murdered his uncle.’)
On mentioning this, which I heard when taken to Italy
as a boy by my father, the person to whom I told it showed
no surprise. He said that he had been driven for two or
three years in a certain city by a young Sicilian cabdriver of
prepossessing manners and appearance, but then lost sight
of him. On asking what had become of him, he was told
that he was in prison for having shot at his father with in-
tent to kill him—happily without serious result. Some years
later my informant again found himself warmly accosted
by the prepossessing young cabdriver. ‘Ah, caro signore,’ he
exclaimed, ‘sono cinque anni che non lo vedo—tre anni di
militare, e due anni di disgrazia,’ &c. (“My dear sir, it is five
years since I saw you—three years of military service, and
two of misfortune’)—during which last the poor fellow had
been in prison. Of moral sense he showed not so much as a
trace. He and his father were now on excellent terms, and
were likely to remain so unless either of them should again
have the misfortune mortally to offend the other.
In the following chapter I will give a few examples of the
way in which what we should call misfortune, hardship, or
disease are dealt with by the Erewhonians, but for the mo-
ment will return to their treatment of cases that with us are
criminal. As I have already said, these, though not judicially
punishable, are recognised as requiring correction. Accord-
ingly, there exists a class of men trained in soul-craft, whom
they call straighteners, as nearly as I can translate a word
which literally means ‘one who bends back the crooked.’