He  surveyed  for  the  map  after  leaving  school,  then  wrote  a  history  of
Delaware  County,  then  got  into  his  various  speculations.  Our  paths
lay  far  apart.
I  have  never  followed  his  career  very  closely.
I  saw  him  once  in  New  York,  on  Fifth  Avenue,  many  years  later —
recognized  his  gait  at  once.  And  once  he  came  in  the  Treasury  Depart-
ment in  Washington  where  I  was  working.  The  Deputy  Comptroller
brought  some  officers  from  the  Commercial  Bank  of  New  York  in  there,
requesting  me  to  show  them  the  vault,  and  Jay  was  among  them.  He
did  not  recognize  me,  though  I  knew  him  instantly.  I  showed  them
the  vault,  but  did  not  make  myself  known  to  Jay — Yes,  one  would  think
I  would  have — there's  a  queer  streak  in  me,  I  guess.
When  Jay  Gould  helped  him  out  by  supplying  those
lines,  it  is  clear  that  John's  desire  to  write  had  not  yet  come
to  him;  in  fact,  at  that  period  he  usually  got  out  of  the  re-
quired task  in  one  way  and  another.  He  never  could
write  to  order,  anyhow;  the  spirit  has  to  move  him  first,
and  the  spirit  never  moved  for  those  Friday  afternoon
compositions.  Why,  even  one  of  his  teachers,  Walter
Eliot,  with  whom  John  was  a  favourite,  took  pity  on  the
lad  one  day  and  wrote  a  composition  for  him,  letting  him
copy  it  surreptitiously,  so  as  to  maintain  discipline.  It
was  something  about  Napoleon.  All  that  he  now  remem-
bers of  it  is  that  it  had  a  high-sounding  expression  about
the  bridge  of  Lodi.  He  remembers,  however,  his  sheepish
feeling  while  standing  there  and  reading  the  composition
he  had  not  written.  It  cured  him  of  wanting  to  repeat
the  experience.
