The $5,000 Wager That Sent a Man Around the World With Nothing

Paul Jones, genius, gentleman and globe-trotter, who will win $5,000 by meeting the conditions of a unique wager February 12, is in the city. He arrived from Victoria per steamer Kingston early yesterday morning, and will be in the city for several days.

Jones, whose true name is concealed from the public, in Boston last February made a bet of $5,000 that he could start without a stitch of clothing on his back or a cent of money in his pocket, go around the world in a year and in the meantime earn $5,000. At the outset a committee of six placed him, pretty much as he came into the world, in a room at the Boston Press Club, and according to agreement left him alone for one minute. When they returned they were brought face to face with the first evidence of the wonderful resources that insure the success of the undertaking. On the door was a sign with the legend, "Paul Jones starts from this room. Admission, 1 cent." The receipts of the idea amounted to 5 cents, and in a few minutes Mr. Jones had bought a newspaper and a few pins, and with these scant materials he constructed a suit that would have made old Adam envious. Jones went right on making money, and soon had 21 cents. He then bought 10 cents' worth of manila paper and took another step toward civilized garb by making a Mother Hubbard. By degrees he added to this garb, until he had an entire suit, not excepting a pair of sandals. In a day or two he had earned $100, and now he comes to Seattle with but $300 lacking of the $5,000 he is to earn.

In his travels Jones has turned himself to all kinds of employment. He blacked boots in Boston, was a sandwich man in London, has run errands everywhere, has lectured, told stories, sung songs, given exhibitions in legerdemain and brought into the execution of his project all the resources of an active, vigorous and able mind. He has been aided, too, by the bounty of a fine physique. He is tall and commanding, slender and wiry, and has handsome features of a classic mould. A dark moustache contributes to his appearance, and his bearing at once proclaims him a man who knows what he is about.

Jones reached Victoria day before yesterday per the Empress of Japan, thirteen days from Yokohama. In Japan he had an experience that for a time threatened to ruin his prospects. He happened to reach that country during the New Year's festivities, which last a week, and, as a traveler has to use a passport, he was hampered by a failure to get the signature of the necessary officials. He supplied by American nerve the Japanese signature, but at Kioto was held under suspicion of being a spy against the government. As good fortune would have it, he encountered at the right instant a Japanese, now an official, who had been educated at Boston, and who released him from his predicament. But for the timely intervention of his Oriental friend Jones would probably now be languishing in a Kioto dungeon.

The globe-trotter passed Thanksgiving day throwing pennies to fleet-footed Arabians who ran alongside the steamer as she went puffing through the Suez canal; Christmas day he was in Hongkong at a seaside resort, kept by a colored American, and New Year's he went his way across the empire of Japan.

On his voyage across the Pacific Jones fell in with Fred Villiers, war correspondent for Black-and-White, London, to whom he furnished material for a special article. He delivered a lecture on the boat and in that way picked up a few dollars to add to the account against the $5,000.

Today Jones will try his skill and genius on the people of Seattle, and in his famous manila suit, which has made the trip with him around the globe, will appear as special clerk at a leading dry goods establishment. City Clerk Stewart will affix his official seal to the cuff of the paper coat, and the "Incog." tourist will be a privileged character as long as he chooses to remain. Jones may deliver a lecture in this city. From here he will go to Tacoma, thence to Portland and Salem, Or., where he will pay his respects to Gov. Pennoyer, and then jump to San Francisco. He expects to make the balance of the $5,000 before leaving the latter place, but will not protest, he says, if the sum goes over the figure agreed upon. He will endeavor to reach Boston the last day, Tuesday, February 12, and like Phileas Fogg, walk triumphantly among the assembled throng. He has not forgotten, either, that he made a day in the whirl around the sphere.

Whoever Paul Jones may be, he is a man of scholarly attainments and a graduate of Harvard. He is said to bear a striking resemblance to Winfield S. Neale, who used to live at No. 10 Franklin square, Boston.