Thomas Strype

“ In the afternoon, she sat down at the window and read her Thomas à Kempis. Then all was quite still: no hammering behind the wall, no boys in the street, only the soft tapping of the canary in his food-trough and the tick of the pendulum; everything was quiet as though in an enchanted sleep. The sun glowed through the geranium-leaves and cast on the red-tiled floor a broad, round shadow which took the whole afternoon to creep from the legs of the stove to the front-door.
The flies buzzed round on the rafters of the ceiling or ran along the cracks of the white-scoured table. ”

“ Peter took the water that had been brought from the semi-cesspool at the end of the street. Viny hurried across the street to home and to bed. With the habitual twinge of his sanitary conscience, Peter considered the water in the buckets.
“We'll have to boil this,” he said to the doctor.
“Boil it?” repeated Jallup, blankly. Then, he added: “Oh, yes—boil. Certainly.”
A repellent odor of burned paper, breathed air, and smoky lights filled the close room. Nan had lighted another lamp and now the place was discernible in a dull yellow glow. In the corner lay a half-burned wisp of paper. ”

“ He was a graceful, sunburned fellow, and as he bent his head over the guitar, during his intermittent strumming, Strawbridge was surprised to see that his hair was done up like a woman's, in a knot at the back of his head.
Just why the American should have decided to ask this particular man for delicate information, it is impossible to say. It may have been because he was leaning against a shrine, or because he showed splendid white teeth as he smiled at the varying fortunes of the players. There is a North American superstition that a man with good teeth also possesses good morals. ”

“ Thomas Strawbridge smiled in the darkness.
"That's where you don't know men, señora," he assured her from his wider knowledge. "Every man cares about business. There is no man on earth that isn't wrapped up in some sort of business. Well, I think I'll step inside and see what I can do." He patted her hand where it lay on the arm of her chair. There was something about its softness and littleness that sent a strange, sweet sensation up Strawbridge's arm and suffused his body. The next moment he moved into the palace, with his usual quick, rangy strides. ”

“ As the motor whirled cityward, the bull-fighter sat with both hands gripping the front seat, staring intently as the wedding music of the peons came to them, with its long-drawn, melancholy burden.
Strawbridge leaned back, listening and looking. He was still thinking about the play in New York and regretting the fact that in real life one never saw any such dramatic openings. In real life it was always just work, work, work— going after an order, or collecting a bill—never any drama or romance, just dull, prosy, commonplace business... ”

“ Coronel Saturnino did not appear particularly gratified by this encomium heaped upon his home town. He picked up a paper-weight and looked at it with a faint smile.
"Did the general tell you about that?"
"Oh, yes," declared Strawbridge, heartily, "we buddied up from the jump. Why, I never meet a stranger. I'm just Tom Strawbridge wherever you find me."
The colonel passed over Mr. Strawbridge's declaration of his identity. ”

“ By this time the motor was again below the level of the alcornoque growth and the men began discussing what they had seen.
“What 'a the object of it!” asked Strawbridge.
“The general is going to canalize at least one half of this entire Orinoco valley. This sandy stretch you see around you, señor, will be as fat as the valley of the Nile.”
The idea seized on the drummer's American imagination.
“Why!” he exclaimed, “this is amazing! it's splendid! Why haven't I heard of this? Why haven't the American capitalists got wind of this?” ”

“ It was a short daily reaction from his American heartiness, his American optimism, his tendency to convert every moment into a fanfare and a balloon ascension. This early morning depression continued until he had had his coffee and the fife-and-drum corps of his spirit started up their stridor again. It is just possible that the American flag, instead of stars, should bear forty-eight coffee beans rampant.
A woman in black passed the barred windows of Strawbridge 's room. The drummer, after the manner of men, moved slowly about his window to keep her in sight as long as possible. ”

“ John Strype, Incumbent of Low Leyton, in Essex, then between fifty and sixty years of age, was just beginning that career as a biographer and historian, which he prolonged for so many years afterwards, and for which he had so laboriously amassed materials during the previous portion of his life. His memoirs of Cranmer, Smith, and Aylmer, which issued from the press under William III., and the large correspondence of the author at the time, preserved in the University Library at Cambridge, indicate, in connection with his diligence of research, his busy care respecting ecclesiastical affairs. ”

“ Strawbridge looked at the negro, but his humble expression appeared guileless.
“I am an American,” he nodded. “Now, just hand that to your master and tell him he can communicate with me at the Hotel Bolivia.” Strawbridge was about to go.
“Sí, seño',” nodded the servant, throwing away the mango stone.“ I tell him about de Americano. I heard about yo' country, seño', el grand America del Norte; so cold in de rainy season you freeze to death, so hot in de dry season you drap dead. Sí, seño', but ever'body rich—dem what ain't froze to death or drap dead.” ”

“ STRYPE, JOHN (1643-1737) , English historian and biographer, was born in Houndsditch, London, on the 1st of November 1643. He was the son of John Strype, or van Stryp, a member of a Brabant family who, to escape religious persecution, settled in London, in a place afterwards known as Strype's Yard in Petticoat Lane, as a merchant and silk throwster. The younger John was educated at St Paul's School, and on the 5th of July 1662 entered Jesus College, Cambridge ”

“ At that moment one of the drummers picked up his grip, and started down the gang-plank, and with its leathern bulk pressed Tump Pack and his mother out of his path. He moved on to the shore through the negroes, who divided at his approach. The captain of the launch saw that other of his white passengers were becoming impatient, and he shouted for the darkies to move aside and not to block the gangway. The youngish man drew the girl in the tailor suit close to him and started through with her. Peter heard him say, “They won't hurt you, Miss Negley.” ”

“ Do you think it can be done?”
“I would hardly say practical, seño'. It has been done.” The negro and the white man stood looking at each other.
“How do I... er... how does any one get to Rio Negro?” asked the drummer, nervously.
“You will need some person to pilot you, seño': some black man would make a good guide.”
“Now, I just imagine he would,” said Strawbridge, drawing in his lips and biting them. “Yes, sir, I imagine he would—” He broke off and suddenly became direct: “When do we start?” ”

“ As the general led the way into the palace, through a broad entrance hall, the cry of the peon girl still clung to the fringe of Thomas Strawbridge's mind. He put it resolutely aside, and assumed his professional business attitude. That is to say, a manner of complimentary intimacy such as an American drummer always assumes toward a prospective buyer. He laid a warm hand on the general's arm, and indicated some large oil paintings hung along the hallway. ”

“ Mother was busy with the baby in the cradle; Horieneke was showing her new holy pictures to Trientje; and Bertje and the other boys had gone out to play in the road. The bells rang again, this time for high mass. Many small things had still to be rummaged out, clothes to be pinned and buttoned; and the boys, with their Sunday penny in their pocket, marched up the wide road to high mass.
The wind had dropped and the sun blazed in the clear blue of the sky, which hung full of unravelled white cloud-threads, showing gold at the edges. A gay light lay over all the young green ”

“ Nature bestowed a taste both in art and wine on man, which he should strive to improve at every opportunity. It is a gift from God. Perhaps you would like another glass. No? Then accommodate me.”
He drained this one, with Peter standing, worked his withered lips back and forth to experience its full taste, then swallowed, and smacked.
“Now, Peter,” he said, “the reason I asked you to come to see me is that I need a man about this house. That will be one phase of your work. The more important part is that you shall serve as a sort of secretary. ”

“ It amused Strawbridge to see a South American performing such military antics. It was like a child playing soldier. He was moved to mimic the little fellow by grunting back in the same tones, “Hup... Strawbridge... Caracas... Canalejos... sell guns and ammunition...” Then he wrote those answers in the book.
An anxious look flitted across the face of the sentry at this jocularity. His stiff “eyes front” flickered an instant toward the sentry-box. While the negro and the bull-fighter were filling in the register, a peon came riding up on a black horse. ”

“ Inside the fold was the sentence, “This will introduce to you a very worthy young American, Mr. Thomas Strawbridge, a young man of discretion, prompt decision, strict morals, and unimpeachable honesty.” It bore no signature.
Strawbridge turned it over and perused the address for upward of half a minute. Now and then he looked up and down the street, then at the numbers on the houses, after the fashion of a man trying to orient himself in a strange city. ”

“ Peter noticed her Northern accent, and fancied she was coming to Hooker's Bend to teach school.
One of the drummers turned to another.
“Did you ever hear Bob Taylor's yarn about Uncle 'Rastus's funeral? Funniest thing Bob ever got off.” He proceeded to tell it.
Every one on the launch was laughing except the captain, who was swearing quietly; but the line of negroes marched on down to the wharf-boat with the unshakable dignity of black folk in an important position. They came singing an old negro spiritual. ”

“ While his two companions were signing, Strawbridge yielded to that impulse for horse-play which so often attacks Americans who are young and full-blooded. He leaned out of the motor very solemnly, lifted the cap of the sentry, turned the visor behind, and replaced it on his head. The effect was faintly but undeniably comic. The little soldier's face went beet-colored. At the same moment came a movement inside the sentry-box and out of the door stepped a somewhat corpulent man wearing the epaulettes, gold braid, and stars of a general. ”

“ He was again beginning to debate whether or not he should make a show of going to the officer at all, when he heard the thrumming of a guitar just behind him. He looked around quickly and saw that the man with the knot of hair had followed him. Then Strawbridge realized that not only would he have to go to the policeman, but he would have to inquire for the actual address in order to maintain an appearance of innocence. ”

“ More of us go off to school every year. I do hope my school here in Hooker's Bend will be of some real value. If I could just show our people how badly we fare here, how ill housed, and unsanitary—”
The girl pressed Peter's fingers with a woman's optimism for a man.
“You'll succeed, Peter, I know you will. Some day the name Siner will mean the same thing to coloured people as Tanner and Dunbar and Braithwaite do. Anyway, I've put my name down for ten dollars to help out.” She returned the pencil. “I'll have Tump Pack come around and pay you my subscription, Peter.” ”

“ Strype, however, has well defended him, and shewn that the see was in reality the gainer even at the time the exchange was made; and if the present values of the exchanged lands were compared I think it would be found that the successors of Ridley had not lost by his bargain. ”

“ Jallup's head and breast appeared, illuminated against the black interior.
“My mother's sick, Doctor,” began Peter, in immense relief.
“Who is it?” inquired the half-clad man, impassively.
“Caroline Siner; she's been taken with a—”
The physician lifted his light a trifle in an effort to see Peter.
“Lemme see: she's that fat nigger woman that lives in a three-roomed house—”
“I'll show you the way,” said Peter. “She's very ill.” ”

“ He was the most dignified man find had the most penetrating eyes that Strawbridge had ever seen in his life. He had that peculiar possessive air about him which Strawbridge had felt when once, at a New York banquet, he saw J. P. Morgan. By merely stepping out of the sentry-box this man seemed to appropriate the calle, the motor and men, and the llanos beyond the town. Strawbridge instantly knew that he was in the presence of General Adriano Fombombo, and the gaucherie of having turned around the little sentry's cap set up a sharp sinking feeling in the drummer's chest. ”

“ The old lawyer's face was white. His angry old eyes jerked Peter out of his slight mummery. The negro felt oddly like a grammar-school boy caught making faces behind his master's back. It shocked him into sincerer manners.
“Captain,” he said with a certain stiffness, “I apologize for my mistake; but may I ask how you desire me to act?”
“Simply, naturally, sir,” thundered the Captain, “as one alumnus of Harvard to another! It is quite proper for a young man, sir, to assist an old gentleman with his hat and coat, but without fripperies and genuflections and absurdities!” ”