Then Fred, who, I believe, thought he had brought out a masterpiece, told them that he found it in a parcel sent to my house by the man with the shawl; and I explained to the gentlemen how that happened, but I said nothing about the Grecian girl, because Fred was present, neither did I speak of the Kapelsteeg. Every one thought that it was quite right on my part to get rid of that man. Presently you will see that there were other things in the parcel of more solid worth, some of which will appear in this book, because they concern the coffee-auctions of the Company.
Afterwards, the publisher asked me whether I would not add to the work the piece or poem which Fred had recited. I consented, but I wish it to be known that I am not responsible for the sentiments expressed. All stuff and nonsense. However, I withhold my observations from want of space. I will only remark that the poem was written at “Padang,” in 1843, and that this is of inferior mark—I mean the Padang coffee:— [[27]]
Moeder! ’k ben wel ver van ’t land,
Waar mij ’t leven werd geschonken,
Waar mijne eerste tranen blonken,
Waar ik opwies aan uw hand;
Waar uw moedertrouw der ziel
Van den knaap haar zorgen wijdde
En hem liefdrijk stond ter zijde,
En hem ophief als hij viel;