On your own legs.

The winter passed and the spring made its entry.

But just as the beautiful season of the year was approaching, how much more, Father Bell thought about his plan to do the things and quietly go and talk to Mother.

“I would rather take our boy with us,” Father said, “but he has his work here and he can not perform much on a village. Ideally, I would like him to go to rooms with a friend and visit us every week. ”

Mother had some objections at first, but she also longed for some peace in nature, and finally she agreed.

Piet was informed of the new plans. Our friend was not particularly pleased with it at first.

His parents were his best friends, and he felt strongly attached to the parental home, where he had always been so happy.

But on the other hand, he understood that his father and mother had earned a few years’ worth of rest after so many years of work, and the idea of ​​”standing on his own feet” also laughed at him.

But now the question of a room friend came up.

This difficulty, however, was solved sooner than expected.

Flip, who still successfully managed the cigar shop of his father, had lived with an aunt for three years, since his mother had died early and his father was almost constantly on a journey.

Now this aunt died and a new stay had to be found for Flip.

The case was discussed with Flip’s father and the conclusion was that when Father Bell had handled his case advantageously and had left for Hilversum, where he lived with Mother a very sweet little house on the road to Laren, Pietje and Flip set up their camp. in a large, cozy room at the Singel. They each had a bedroom behind it and to Flips great joy there was also a piano. In addition, they had an “angel” from a room-renter, an elderly lady, who would rather have a troop of cheerful youngsters in her room than a few old humbled people.

Miss Rust was her name and she was a bright-looking woman with shrewd eyes, but with a mouth that almost never stood still. [188]

She was clean and tidy, that must be said, and her rooms looked clean and well-cared for.

And then the teacher Piet and Flip started to give a piece of her talk.

“Well, gentlemen, I know how to rent rooms, please! Old people can run and serve you all day long, but young people are much more satisfied. They go to work all day long, and in this way you also have something in your room that way. Is not it a nice view of the Singel? Grace, gentlemen, I am quite happy with you, and you can enjoy yourself amusing here, as much as you want. Playing the piano too, that’s what I like. I have had a musician in the rooms here, who played the whole day and so beautiful, so beautiful that you became drowsy. Well, that musician was also very giddy, but that was because he drank so many glasses of rum. After all, he had drunk so much rum that he got rummetic in his fingers, and then he had given it music and had become a chauffeur. But that had not lasted long, because when he once again had a great deal of rummetic, he drove his car so hard against a tree that he flew out and shot six meters under the ground. Hey-hey … “and the lady was shaking with laughter …” and then the funeral was also finished right away. ”

“Well, Miss,” Flip said, “I think we’ll find it together.”

That was what the lady thought, and if the gentlemen needed them, they could safely say so.

Within a few days the room had become a museum of sights. The two friends had already brought their riches there and soon the walls were adorned with countless portraits, sports prints, programs, ball books and an indescribable collection of objects, each of which had its own history. [189]

Flip was now relieved by an elderly servant at six o’clock in the evening, so that he had the evening off and could spend it with Piet in the room.

He had never done much reading until now, but Piet gave him beautiful and good books, and Flip started getting more and more enthusiasts. He spent reading in the evening, while Piet was working on his desk.

So the days went quietly, and Miss Roest began to marvel at those calm young people, when a new tenant brought some life, or rather some noise in the brewery.

The new tenant was indeed a musician again, but this time a dilettant, who was a member of a music corps and played a very sweet instrument.

It was the Turkish drum.

The musician began to study each evening after his supper.

Tsching-tsching-tsching-boem !!! …. Tsching-bend-tsching !!!

The first night, when Piet and Flip heard this sound, they thought it was stormy and both were looking at the sky.

But gradually they discovered the truth of the matter!

“I let myself be skinned alive, if that is not a Turkish drum,” Piet shouted.

“You’re right! … Up here!!”

Tsching-boom !!! Tsching-boom !!! Tsching-boom !!!!

“But that’s crazy! Hey up there! Stop!!”

Tsching-boom-boom !! Tsching-boom-boom !!!

“Say, Flip, that guy is insane … we can not stand that way!”

“Let’s go upstairs and ask him to sit on the roof.”

“Alright then!”

Both friends climbed the stairs and knocked.

Tsching-boom-boom !!!

Piet now pounded his fist on the door.

“Alors … what isser … Entrez!”

The young came in.

A huge drum was in the middle of the room, a music teacher with a study book in front of it, a short, fat French man with black mustache and goatee behind it.

Astonished, he looked at the people entering the room.

“Ah … les messieurs … will you be seated … You are just … prime minister? … Oui, oui … voila des cigarettes … excusez moi … iek studying … oui … iek playing ien de ore … ”

“Pardon,” Piet asked, “if you want to be so good, just listen?”

“Loister? … Mais oui … iek loister … what ‘ad you?’

“I ate green beans with sausage,” Piet said, “but that’s not the point. Are you planning on hitting that head of Jut for a long time? ”

“Oofd fan Juut? Comprends pas … is not an ‘offspring fan’ Juut … isse that kroote tromme … fan that orchestre … should study … oui … chaque soir … smile obeend … ”

“Every night? Great grace, do we have to be in that noise every night? ”

“‘Errie … dies you call’ errie? Isse la musique … isse ma chambre … iek pay that propriétaire … can do what i prefer, n’est-ce pas? Vous jouez du piano … eh bien … what do you want … ”

“But, sir, it does not matter,” Flip said, “that noise makes a man crazy!”

“Oh … pas du tout … do not mind … is not it so …”

Tsching-boom-boom !!!
“Well, sir,” said Piet, “we’ll talk about it with the teacher.”

“Kaat your kang … ça m’est égal …. bonsoir knife amis! ”

Tsching-boom-boom !!!

BAM !!! Peter closed the door.

But the teacher could not do anything about it either.

The man paid his rent, did not he, and as long as he did not damage the thing, she could not say much. It would not last all evening?

Then Piet and Flip decided to take measures themselves.

After an hour of study the musician stopped.

It seemed like the silence after a heavy thunderstorm.

“Say, Flip,” said Piet, “tomorrow is your birthday!”

“I? You’re drunk … I just turned my birthday. ”

“Do not sigh … If I say that you are having a birthday tomorrow, you will have a birthday tomorrow.”

“Well, my best … I’ll have my birthday tomorrow … but I will not treat, if you know that.”

“Do not need to listen either.”

And Piet whispered something to his friend, which put his hands on his knees of fun.

“Unaffordable!” He exclaimed, “if that does not work, nothing will help!”

The following evening, the friends dragged in the following musical instruments: a sinking sink, lids of pots and pans, fun fair bells and a big bell.

At half past seven the members of the Vroolijke Bende appeared at Pietje’s invitation to celebrate Flip’s birthday.

But Piet had quickly informed them of the state of affairs.

“We know no other means,” he concluded, “to get rid of the musician, and I think the tool will work.”

The conversation, however, wandered from one to the other.

They looked at the room and the many photos and Piet wanted to tell the story, which was connected to an enameled sign, which read: “Close door s. v. p. “when suddenly the musician started studying again.

Tsching-tsching-boom !!!

Immediately everyone grabbed his musical instrument.
Piet hit the sink with a hammer on the sink, Harry sounded the big bell, Flip played terribly hard and false on the piano, the others chanted on the horns or hit pot covers against each other and whoever had his mouth free, sang a different song than his neighbor.

It was such an awful, ear-splitting noise that two residents of the house fainted and the rest fled on the streets.

The great tromschsching continued for a moment.

The great tromschsching continued for a moment.
Kletterend, thundering, screaming, stomping, screaming, ringing and blaring, the inhuman, barbaric orchestra shed his deafening music through the house and it did not take five minutes, or there was fiercely banging on the door. It was Miss Roest with the Frenchman.

“Play through,” Piet ordered.

With the hands on the ears, the lady and the musician were staring at the Merry Bree, who seemed to be a troop of fairground guests.

“Stop … stop!” Shouted Miss Roest.

And the Frenchman added:

“Isse skande … sacré bleu … make tout le monde siek !!”

“Ah, Monsieur …” Piet said laughingly, “are you going to sit … You are from above? … Second floor? … Right, right … here are cigars … excuse us … we are studying … this is our orchestra … we study every night …”

“Ielken tonight … did you think that’s erie?”

“Noise? You call this noise? That is music, my lord … this is my room … I pay the lady … so I can do what I prefer …. You play the big drum … well, what do you want? ”

“But I can not allow this,” said Miss Rust, “this goes too far, Mr. Bell.”

“Oh, come,” said Piet, “as long as Monsieur has permission from you to make this house uninhabitable with his hellish music, my orchestra will help him with that. So, miss, the big drum out or you lose us and the rest of the tenants. ”

“Isse skande … isse criminal … mais you will get me … i will take custom … I do not pay ma chambre … compris?”

“Comedy? Komprie? “Exploded Miss Roest. “You seem to be a comedy yourself. Yes, do not pay my rent and still call me for comedy! You can leave at the end of the week; understand? Komprie … well do you ever have! ”

The Frenchman grumbled back up again.

The young men were obliged to promise Miss Rust never to go to such radical means again, which they gladly did.

But the great drum was no longer heard, and on the following Saturday the troublemaker set off with his “fan of the eagle”.

Three months passed, without anything special happened in the life of Pietje.

arthritis rheumatology

The days were completely equal to each other, the young lived quietly together, each dedicating himself to his work.

Sometimes Flip accompanied his friend, who went to some kind of performance or had to “beat a concert,” but usually spent their evenings together in the room.

One day a second letter from Jacob had arrived from America.

Piet was very curious how his friend in the new world fared and read:

New York, April 19 ….
1490 Riverside Drive.

Good man,

How pleased I was with your letter, in which you told me that the Merry Gang minus my person was still cool and complete and that everyone, including your parents, are still. Your joyous letter [196] has done me really well and I have made out that you are still the same sided humorist of old. I also learned from your writing that your father and mother intend to live in Het Gooi. Are they already there and are you left alone in the city?

Tell Piet, I am still employed by Mr. Wortelman, who has extensive business here. We travel a lot and I have seen a lot. Boy, what is America a wonderful country! Everything here is so great and so great that you can not understand it in Holland. You have to see it to understand it. Houses of twenty and thirty floors are very common and then traffic in the streets, dude, that is terrible! If you only consider that in New York only more people are walking around than in the whole of the Netherlands, that a common one appears here five-six times a day, that more than a hundred thousand cars drive through the streets and hundreds of trains below and above shaking the city, you already have a small idea of ​​life here. I have been with Mr. Wortelman to Philadelphia, Buffalo, Niagara Falls, and Chicago, and if I had your writing talent, I could write stacks and piles of stories about those journeys. I now have a fixed salary of 25 dollars per week, of which I do not use a third part, because everything is paid by Mr. Wortelman.

To my great joy, my Grandfather is completely restored and does not think about going away yet, which Uncle Karel will certainly be sorry. But my kind pattern has informed Grandfather about everything and now the will has changed again, so that Uncle Karel will have little or nothing. Oh, my fellow, I did not inherit anything, as long as I am healthy and work, what can I do for a large capital?

You only have the fear of losing it. Piet, if you could sign a contract for Letters from America with a couple of papers in Holland, what could you have been working freely here, because you always had such a freedom ideal? You could travel and see the whole continent from New York to San Francisco and from Mexico to Canada! So free as a bird in the air! I myself have the desire to do it, but all I can write is a letter to you or the trade correspondence for my boss.

FLAT Iron Building
FLAT Iron Building

Think about it, Piet, and if you sometimes have an idea in something else, it is good too. We will help you here. I do not know any further news at the moment. Let me hear from you again soon and give them all the warm greetings.

From your affectionate friend:
Jacob Mantel.


Piet handed the letter to Flip, who began to read it with all his attention.

“Well, I have to say,” thought Flip, “that Jacob is all behind us. Twenty-five dollars a week and virtually no costs. And also heir of a million! Jacob belongs to the people, who literally walk along with everything. What can I ever achieve? Although I am selling cigars for twenty years now, I am just as far away as now. For you there is much more chance of success … the whole world is open to you. ”

“What would you do in my case?” Piet asked.

“In your case? Guy, someone with your chances can do exactly what he wants. Jacob also says it in his letter. When you decide to become a travel correspondent, the whole world is yours. Why do not you tackle Jacob’s proposal and talk about it with your pattern? ”

Suddenly Piet jumped up, throwing his chair over.

“Flip! I do it! I do it! Months and months has already been in my head. I try! Of course I will first ask for permission from my parents, but I am sure they will not refuse me. ”

“The worst thing for me is,” Flip said, “that I will lose you. The time that we spent together in this room has been the most wonderful of my life. You almost made me a different person with your conversations and your books, Piet, and I will miss you so much. ”

Piet did not wait any longer than was necessary.

The next day he asked Mr. Peters to speak.

When the director saw Piets’s grave face, he looked up in amazement for a moment. Piet always had a joyful look around his mouth and a somewhat mischievous expression in his eyes, so that this sudden change would have to cause surprise.

“Well, what shall we have now?” Asked Mr. Peters. “Has your father made another important invention or are you bringing me bad news?”

“Not at all,” said Piet, who suddenly found a point of contact, which completely cleared his face. “No bad news at all, sir! I’m going to America! ”

“Hey … what … who? … Are you … going to … America? And you do not call that bad news? And what on earth are you going to do? ”

“Writing travel letters for the Morgenpost!”

The director looked at Pietje with big eyes and open mouth. He forgot his old habit of addressing his staff with “you”.

“But … but …” he began, and he walked up and down the room with great strides, “I do not want to lose you here … you do your job well … excellent … the editors are satisfied … you have style … pit … good prospects … what more do you want? How old are you?”

“Soon I will be eighteen.”

“Soon eighteen … barely out of the years! And then to America! without fixed position … without address … without friends … not knowing what to do … we know that … so many people have tried … The biggest half comes back … a few are coming … the rest are sinking into a life of trouble and misery … ”

“Well,” said Piet decisively, “I will then belong to the few who will come. I make my own office. I send you a feuilleton every week and make a study of the country. I will sign a contract with a few Dutch magazines for regular correspondence … I have a friend in New York! ”

“Oh, that changes … Hm … otherwise a devilish plan of yours … I would have liked to have kept you here, Piet … but anyway. You tell us weekly, do not you? Make it spicy, interesting … Letters from America by Pietje Bell … the city will look up … Well, let’s say … fifty guilders a week … to begin with … that is, assume that I get two letters for that … then you have already twenty dollars weekly … except your other contracts. Has that been accepted? ”

“Accepted, sir!” Exclaimed Piet.