The shock was so great to my nervous system that I too became ill, and for a long time was in grave danger, hovering between life and death, but, by careful nursing and skilful medical treatment, I eventually pulled through. My nerves were greatly shaken at the awful home-coming I had experienced, and the knowledge that I had not written to my father for three weeks previous to coming to England, so that he might know where to address me, preyed greatly upon my mind. I could not help thinking that, had my father been able to communicate with me, I might have returned sooner, and by so doing have possibly saved his life. I felt somehow guilty of a kind of moral parricide, and blamed myself for all that had happened. It was more than I could bear to enter the studio; everything about the place served to call up memories of the past; even the trees around the old house seemed to whisper as I walked beneath them, “ingrate.” I could not bear it. I felt hysterical and delirious, talking and groaning in my sleep; and during the day roaming about the house like one distraught. The doctor diagnosed the case at once, and told me plainly that I must choose one of two things--a lunatic asylum or foreign travel. Feeling his opinion to be a sound one, I naturally chose the latter alternative. Once more I packed up my impedimenta and crossed to Dieppe, from whence I wandered, without any decided route, across France into Switzerland, from thence making my way gradually southward into Italy. I sketched and painted, selling several of my drawings to tourists who happened to see me at work, and, I suppose, admired my productions. Painting and wandering were my day amusements, but at night I had another source of relaxation and forgetfulness, and that was my flute. Upon this instrument I played fairly well, and it was my constant practice, whenever I was in a favourable place, after my evening meal, to bring forth my instrument and set the peasants dancing. They loved to hear the merry English airs, and became quite excited over the various dance tunes I played them. Minuets, jigs, strathspeys, reels, and hornpipes, all found favour with them, and their attempts to keep step with the more lively measures were sure to bring forth a deal of good-natured banter, mirth, and merriment. I always placed a tin cup at my feet, into which the dancers could drop a small coin if they felt so disposed, and this little collection I invariably gave to relieve any case of distress or poverty in the village. The poor peasants looked upon me as a very strange fellow, for they could not understand why it was I played for money and then gave it all away again, sometimes adding to the fund from my own somewhat slender purse.