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Durham, Andrew Everett, 1882-1954

"Epistles from Pap: Letters from the man known as 'The Will Rogers of Indiana'"

m. next
day.
I was standing at the rail when we docked. I have had feelings of
helplessness many times, and more or less acute. But when I
looked down some 30 feet and saw that crowd of coated, black
haired and hatless men, and saw those upturned faces ranging from
swarthy to ebony black, and heard that strange Portuguese as it
came up in increasing volume along with its accompanying
pantomime . . . I wondered and wondered what I was going to do
and how.
By that time passengers were descending the accommodation ladder
and strangers had come up. Shortly, the cabin boy came with a
short, thin, wiry, coal black haired young fellow. He said, "You
are Mr. Durham?"
"Yes," I said.
He handed me a card bearing the name of a well known American
firm doing business in South America and said, "We received word
you and your daughter were arriving and I am down to ask you to
be our guests so we may have the pleasure of entertaining you
while here. May we have that pleasure?"
"Son," said I, "you most certainly may--and before you have time
to change your mind." And I meant it.
He looked a trifle puzzled. We went inside the Verandah Cafe and
right there another less swarthy and older man accosted me in
like manner, for a like purpose, and handed me a card of another
well known American firm.


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