It went not up to God on high,
And I knelt down to pray:—
“Not yet, my Father, take me hence,
Though quivering on the rack—
O take me not, my Father, hence;
But give my mother back!”
[[32]]
CHAPTER IV.
Before I go on, I must tell you that young Mr. Stern has come; he is a good fellow. He seems to be active and clever, but I believe that he—as the Germans call it, “Schwärmt.” Mary is thirteen. His outfit is very nice, and he has got a copybook, in which to practise the Dutch style. I wonder whether I shall soon receive an order from Ludwig Stern. Mary shall embroider a pair of slippers for him,—I mean to say for young Mr. Stern. Busselinck and Waterman have made a mistake,——a respectable broker does not supplant, that’s what I say. The day after the party at the Rosemeyers, who are sugar-merchants, I called Fred, and ordered him to fetch Shawlman’s parcel. You must know, reader, that I am very precise in my family as to Religion and Morality. Now then, yesterday evening, just when I was eating my first pear, I read in the face of one of the girls that there was something in a verse from the parcel that was not right. I myself had not listened, but I saw that Betsy crumbled her bread, and that was enough for me. You [[33]]will perceive, reader, that I am a man of the world. I made Fred hand over to me “the beautiful poem” of yesterday evening, and very soon saw the line which caused Betsy to crumble her bread. They speak there of a child on the breast of its mother,—I say nothing of that;—but: “which scarcely left the mother’s womb,”—that I disapproved,—to speak about that, I mean,—so did my wife. Mary is thirteen. Of “cabbage”[1] and such things we do not speak; but to give all in this way its right name is not necessary, as I am a great lover of morality. So I made Fred, who knew it by heart, promise that he would not repeat it again,—at least not before he was member of Doctrina,[2] because no young girls come there,—and then I put it in my writing-desk, I mean the verse. But I wanted to know whether there was anything else of an offensive nature in the parcel; I began to look and to inspect everything. I could not read all, for a great deal was written in foreign languages which I did not understand, but at last I caught sight of a treatise entitled “Account of the Coffee Culture in the Residency of Menado.” My heart leaped for joy, because I am a coffee-broker, at No. 37 Laurier Canal, and “Menado” is a very good mark. So this Shawlman, who made immoral verses, had been in the Coffee trade. I looked at the parcel with quite a different eye. I saw treatises in it which I did not completely understand, but they showed a knowledge of business. There were [[34]]statements, problems, computations, which I could not understand at all, and everything was done with so much care and exactness, that I, to speak plainly,—for I am a lover of truth,—thought this Shawlman, if perhaps the third clerk left,—a likely event, as he is old and dull,—could very well take his place. Of course I should like, first of all, to have testimony as to his honesty, religion, and respectability, for I will not take anybody into my office until I am satisfied on these points. This is a fixed principle with me. You have seen it in my letter to Ludwig Stern.
I did not care to show Fred that I began to take an interest in the contents of the parcel; and therefore I made him go away. I grew quite dizzy when I took in hand one treatise after another, and read the titles. It is true, there were many verses among them, but also much that was useful, and I was astonished at the variety of the different subjects. I acknowledge—for I love truth—that I, who have always been engaged in the coffee trade, am not in a position to criticise; but without going so far as criticising, I can pronounce the list of the different titles curious enough. As I have told you the history of the Greek, you know that in my youth I was taught Latin, and though I avoid quotations in my correspondence—which would not be right in a broker’s office—yet I thought, on seeing all these things: “De omnibus aliquid, de toto nihil,” or “Multa non multum.” [[35]]