Ch. 3: The Wandering Jew - Page 2

friends. They might take it
up and analyse it. He was sure it was true, but it would pain him
acutely were rough hands to examine it too closely. To him alone of all
the toiling generations of mankind had the secret of immortality been
vouchsafed. It would be impious--against all the designs of the Creator--
to set mankind hurrying eastward. Besides, this would crowd the
steamers inconveniently, and John Hay wished of all things to be alone.
If he could get round the world in two months--some one of whom he had
read, he could not remember the name, had covered the passage in eighty
days--he would gain a clear day; and by steadily continuing to do it for
thirty years, would gain one hundred and eighty days, or nearly the half
of a year. It would not be much, but in course of time, as civilisation
advanced, and the Euphrates Valley Railway was opened, he could improve
the pace.

Armed with many sovereigns, John Hay, in the thirty-fifth year of his
age, set forth on his travels, two voices bearing him company from Dover
as he sailed to Calais. Fortune favoured him. The Euphrates Valley
Railway was newly opened, and he was the first man who took ticket
direct from Calais to Calcutta--thirteen days in the train. Thirteen
days in the train are not good for the nerves; but he covered the world
and returned to Calais from America in twelve days over the two months,
and started afresh with four and twenty hours of precious time to his
credit. Three years passed, and John Hay religiously went round this
earth seeking for more time wherein to enjoy the remainder of his
sovereigns. He became known on many lines as the man who wanted to go
on; when people asked him what he was and what he did, he answered--

'I'm the person who intends to live, and I am trying to do it now.'

His days were divided between watching the white wake spinning behind
the stern of the swiftest steamers, or the brown earth flashing past the
windows of the fastest trains; and he noted in a pocket-book every
minute that he had railed or screwed out of remorseless eternity.

'This is better than praying for long life,' quoth John Hay as he turned
his face eastward for his twentieth trip. The years had done more for
him than he dared to hope.

By the extension of the Brahmaputra Valley line to meet the newly-
developed China Midland, the Calais railway ticket held good via Karachi
and Calcutta to Hongkong. The round trip could be managed in a fraction
over forty-seven days, and, filled with fatal exultation, John Hay told
the secret of his longevity to his only friend, the house-keeper of his
rooms in London. He spoke and passed; but the woman was one of resource,
and immediately took counsel with the lawyers who had first informed