Sunday, December 23rd, 3:57 PM, 1872

 This is my last letter. The tour around the world has been completed, and the now well-worn notebook I write in is full. It causes me sadness to finish, but in truth, there is nothing more to write. I shall go back to my house in London, and live my normal life again.

 Did I not mention the wonderful news? Well, I certainly shall. All is well! Fogg did win the wager after all. This is how.

 Passepartout went to the Reverend Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone parish, to tell him about the wedding 'for tomorrow'. Here the Reverend said this was not possible, as 'tomorrow' is Sunday, not Monday! Therefore, as Passepartout told us, after running through the streets and overturning many people, that we had been twenty-four hours ahead of time, making the tour of the world in only 79 days, and the wager could still be won, with only ten minutes to spare!

St Paul's Cathedral

 So Passepartout grabbed him and they got in a cab, where Phileas paid the cabman a hundred pounds to go at top speed. Aouda and I waited nervously in Saville Row, until he came home again. He had won twenty thousand pounds; he had arrived at fifty-seven seconds to a quarter to nine.

 He has gained nothing financially, as he spent nearly nineteen thousand pounds on the journey, and divided that extra thousand between Passepartout (taking out of it the bill for the gas, which had been burning seventy-nine days) and Fix, at whom he held no grudge.

 Despite having no more money from his journey, he has gained something: happiness. When Passepartout told him that he found out one could make the journey in seventy-eight days, he calmly said, "No doubt. By not crossing India. But if I had not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have been my wife, and—" He shut the door.

 Passepartout gave Aouda away two days later; after all, he had saved her!

 And this is where it ends. My small luggage I had taken with me on the journey is packed, and I leave in a few minutes for home. I have become fast friends with Aouda, and will visit her often. Good bye, book! You were with me through thick and thin-What is this? A letter? For me? Passepartout hands it to me.

 Someone is asking my assistants in a journey around Europe in a hot air balloon...Imagine that!

 I may be finished with this book, but out with the old, in comes the new...!

Sunday, December 22nd, 7:53 PM, 1872

London Fishing Market

London Houses Under Railway

 Fogg is ruined. Yesterday we arrived at London five minutes too late, at ten minutes to nine o'clock. The wager is lost, and today we are sure the cheque will be presented at Barings today. He now has no money, having spent it all on the journey.

 But he has gained something! This evening, at seven thirty-one, Aouda and Fogg became engaged! Passepartout now has gone to Reverend Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone parish, to notify him of the wedding tomorrow on Monday. Aouda and Phileas are talking the most I have ever seen them talk, and in a few moments she will come over and we will chatter about the wedding. I sense that Fogg does not care for the money now. Aouda, I also realize, was waiting till this evening to ask him, from her pensiveness all day.

 Here she comes! I will write tomorrow!

Saturday, December 21st, 3:01 PM, 1872

 I now write at 3:01 PM on Saturday, 21st of December, as we are on the train to London, in the company of Aouda, Phileas Fogg, and Passepartout.

Liverpool Station

 It was at two thirty-three that Fix had run into the custom house and released Fogg, admitting that the real robber, he just found out, had been caught three days ago! Phileas maintained his cool, but, to the delight of Passepartout, drew back his arms and sent Fix rolling.

 We got to the station, but our train had already left, and none other was available. We had to order a special train. The engineer had said at first that the train could not possibly leave until three o'clock, but that was nothing a handsome reward could not fix.

 Now we speed along to London, our hearts in our mouths, as delay after delay brings us behind hand more and more minutes.

 I see London in the distance! I will stop writing here to see my old city again. I will write again when we are home safe and sound!

Sunday, December 21st, 11:57 AM, 1872

 A terrible thing has happened! Fogg has been arrested by Fix!

 Last I wrote, we were in the hotel at New York, and Phileas had just come in saying he had found a boat. That was a long time ago now; I can hardly remember it, even. I had not known his plans then. I thought it odd we should go to Bordeaux, which is so far down the French coast, but Fogg was so calm I merely thought he just knew what he was doing. I did not expect him to take over The Henrietta at sea!

 We had just set off, and I was putting my bag in my cabin for the long journey, when I overheard Phileas speaking with the crew, who were occasional, and did not have a good relationship with the captain. I heard them speaking money, and was concerned, but nothing like I was when I saw Mr Speedy, the captain, put in Fogg's cabin bound hand and foot! I asked what was happening, and was coolly told we were taking the boat to Liverpool. What could I do? Nothing at all.

 Through storm and gale we were led on a straight path by Phileas's steady hand, the boat pushed to her limits, and the furnace burning hotter than ever before.

 However, about nine hundred miles from Liverpool, it was announced by the engineer we were running out of coal. In another two hundred miles, we would be completely stuck!

 Fogg, maintaining his taciturn manner, said nothing but, "Feed all the fires until the coal is exhausted." By this time, most thought him mad, though all followed his orders.

Liverpool

 Sure enough, at noon, on the eighteenth, the coal gave out. At this point, Passepartout was ordered to bring Mr Speedy upon deck.

 He came up, raving like a bear, even more when Phileas asked to buy his boat.

 "No!" was the quick reply.

  After getting this much expected answer, Fogg told him that, as the coal had run out, he would be obliged to burn all the wood that could be spared on board. He offered Speedy sixty thousand pounds for the wood, excluding the metal and engine; the most valuable parts of the boat!

 Who would not take this offer? It was easily accepted, and all wood available was burned. Using this, we arrived at Queenstown, where we stopped. All was well, until, at the most unexpected moment, Fix asked Phileas if he really was who he said he was. This, obviously, was confirmed, at which the rascal pulled out his warrant and said, "I arrest you in the Queen's name!"

 Now I write in a police car; my hands are shaking. We are arriving at Liverpool, but Fogg is as calm as always. The car has stopped, I must be done. I will write more when, hopefully, all is well!

Friday, December 12th, 8:41 PM, 1872

 Two days ago, December 10th, we were transported from Fort Kearney to Omaha by sledge. A Mr Mudge had a large sledge with sails for speeding across the ice and snow such as there was, and Mr Fogg paid him dearly to gain transport for five persons. Aouda and I were ordered to stay behind with Passepartout, but we would not hear of it. Though I tried to be as brave and outwardly confident for the benefit of the others, it was so cold on the journey I was too numb to write, and barely said three words together. I could barely walk by the time we reached Omaha.


 We saw nothing of Omaha. We immediately boarded a train exactly on time and reached Chicago at four o'clock. From there we took the train to New York, reaching our destination on the 11th. Here we met a stop. We had missed our boat, The China, by three quarters of an hour!

 Passepartout, of course, blamed himself, when he should have blamed the Indians. No other boats were available to sail to London, and they would not be leaving for a few days. We had to take rooms, and search again the this morning.

 That is where Phileas is now, searching the docks for a boat. He told me and Aouda to be ready for quick departure, and we are, so I now write. But wait, I hear footsteps. It is him!

 I must hurry! He has found us a boat to Bordeaux, where we shall go to London from. We must leave. I will write again at sea or in Bordeaux.

Monday, December 8th, 7:30 AM, 1872

  Much has happened since Saturday!

  Despite our efforts to keep Fogg and Colonel Stamp Proctor apart, they met and began an argument. They decided on a duel with revolvers at Plum Creek (though we begged Phileas to leave it alone), but the train was thirty minutes behind time, and did not stop. The conductor was nice enough, unfortunately, to clear out a car for the two to settle their argument. However, before shots could be exchanged, a band of Sioux Indians attacked the train!

  It took a full ten minutes to chase them away, and they were armed with revolvers. Thankfully, almost everyone there was armed. At the beginning, the Indians tried to stop the train, but, not knowing how to work it, they put it into full speed. If we passed Fort Kearny without stopping, there was no hope for us.

  But Passepartout was brave, and fought his way to the front to stop it, in which he succeeded. No one was killed except for the Indians, by falling beneath the train and by gunshots from the passengers. Not all was right, though. Three people were missing, including Passepartout, either dead or taken passenger.

  Mr. Fogg proceeded, with a band of thirty men, to go after them and rescue the missing. That was Sunday, and they did not return until thirty minutes ago, all safe and sound! We missed the train leaving, and there shall not be one until this evening, and, we fear, we shall surely lose the bet, but what is that cost, compared to saving three lives?

Saturday, December 6th, 12:00 PM, 1872

Medicine Bow

  I have had a most awful fright! We reached the Medicine Bow bridge, and found it broken! It would take six hours at least for another train to come, and no one in the crowd of passengers wanted to wait that long. Everyone was preparing for a long wait when the engineer suggested going at such a speed as to 'jump' the bridge! It all worked out fine, of course, or I would not be writing, but such a scare did it give me. It was over in about three seconds, but the worst part was reversing a mile and then approaching the turbulent waters at full speed.

  Colonel Stamp Proctor is aboard, and we are trying our best to keep him and Fogg separated, for fear they will begin their duel and will cause delay and the loss of the wager, and our efforts are succeeding for the time being. We are keeping him occupied by whist, at which Aouda knows some about from her English education, and Fix is a rather good player. I myself prefer other games, but I am acquainted with it, and play when I am in the mood.

  I have nothing more to write, so here I sign off.