The Morgenpost had in the last days delivered many good services to poor old people who had to commemorate an anniversary, but did not own money, to celebrate it at all festive.
If, for example, a very old and very poor couple were to commemorate his 50-year marriage, the Morgenpost communicated this already a few weeks in advance to beneficent fellow citizens, acquaintances and neighbors.
Well, when the great day came, the gifts and gifts came from all sides of the city, neighbors had decorated the house, and sometimes even the street, and there was no shortage of food, drink and sweets. And then on such a day one of the reporters was sent from the newspaper to the fierce family, in order to increase the joy by an official account of the festivity.
That honor fell one day to our Pietje.
It was a very old, insignificant and dilapidated little street, where Piet had gone that afternoon.
From the entrance he already saw how friendly neighbors had decorated it with paper garlands, flowers and lanterns.
Even a barrel organ, decorated with orange and green garlands, had been hired for that day, and was continually cutting off its worn-out mats.
Children danced to the measure of music, and even some men and women could not have despised a dance, so that there was almost all the day in the poverty alley “ball-champêtre”.
But there is a certain part among the people who do not consider a wedding or any other celebration, as complete, if there is not a fight or even a big fight on the program.
Piet would experience this today.
He laughed at the decorated houses, thought it nice, how those good neighbors helped, so that the festivities of old would prepare an unforgettable day.
But the language that those neighbors used … o semaaje !!
“Are you mocking here, master?”
“Boy kaikeris cotton wool faine knight …”
“It’s Laikt Piek & Clompenburg, Mie.”
“Moth you bai the wedding couple weese, meheer?”
Piet was soon surrounded by alley dwellers.
The barrel organ jerked without ceasing.
It was difficult to make themselves understood.
“O lord-my-time, Kee !!!” screamed a swinging fishmonger, “he was looking for a pierepearer !!! Lussie also biscuits, beautiful canoe-friter? ”
“Just say it,” Kee called from a window from afar, “that he lets the sun shine in his neck, then he gets some warmth in his body.” 
Piet, as always susceptible to humor, shot in a laugh and looked at the friendly speaker, who stuck her tongue out against him and made a long nose. Then he asked:
“And where does the bride and groom now live?”
“Left and follow your nose, sir.”
Piet turned to the left and saw a decorated door on which a fiercely gilded shield was carved, which read:
Tribute to bRuiT and bRuiDegoM
Piet first rubbed his eyes a few times because he thought it was Russian, but finally he deciphered it anyway.
A ten-year-old girl in a stiffened dress, and with white, far too large gloves, that hung over the tips of the fingers, opened the door and asked:
“Were you weese here?”
“I think so,” said Piet. “I’m from the newspaper.”
On which the child took a few steps in the direction of the stairs, put both hands to the mouth, to drown out the roar from above and shouted:
“Oomè !!! … Oome Hain !! … ”
“Well, what do you think?” Sounded it from above.
“Oome … here is a man for the newspaper …”
“Newspaper? I do not have an old newspaper … ”
Piet took a step further.
“I am from the Morgenpost,” he explained.
“Oh … that’s other coffee …” But you were a jewish Jew. ”
“Come on … you see the stairs?”
“It will,” said Piet, searching for the first step in the dark.
“No,” the weather sounded from above, “there is no staircase … then moth you walk a little further …”
“Oh …” said Piet, who was foolishly waving his right leg in the dark portal.
Then he climbed upstairs, where a greasy rope served him as a handrail.
Above, where the weather was lighter, he saw a small room decorated with screaming-bright colors, stuffy, smoke, people …
Bottles and glasses and cups on the table.
Two oldies-bewildered by the unusual noise-silent in a greenish corner, above which stood such a shield, presumably made by the same artist.
“Come in, sir,” said the same voice, which had marked him on the stairs with “krantejood.”
“Good afternoon,” said Piet, “and is there the bride and groom?”
“Yes, my grandfather and my grandmother were married for fifty  years. Here, father, he’s from the newspaper. ”
He shouted the latter to the old man, who turned out to be very deaf, and pointed to Piet.
This pushed the old hand and got a seat next to them.
They said nothing and looked only at the noisy family members, who crisscrossed each other, leaving the contents of the bottles in the glasses and then in their mouths.
The men sat in their shirt sleeves and smoked black cigars, the women discussed family matters and overtook the absentees, outside the barrel organ tirelessly screamed through and a troublesome infant cried through it.
“A whole holiday,” said Piet to the old groom, just to say something.
“About two hours, I think,” was the answer of the man who obviously did not understand it.
“I say … a very fiest …” Piet spoke a little louder now.
“Zoo … do you come from Weesp?”
Piet gave up, moreover his attention was diverted by one of the Uncles, who had already filled his glass a few times and had emptied it again and with a loud voice said his opinion about the family.
“Well … and you may hear it all … I’m not scared of anyone … Uncle Tinus she’s all chattering waisamed … you just as well … and his cent … his penny hee he neatly hare …”
“What does Oai Tinus know about his cent?” An aunt screamed, licking her glass with pleasure.
“Keep your hair out, Knelia,” her neighbor applauded.
But the Uncle slammed on the table that the glasses and cups were ringing.
“I say … as Tinus …”
“Nau, yes, we know you and Tinus … you and Tinus …. dronke benne …? ”
“Say that is still,” challenged Uncle, “if you are still saying that, I’ll take you in …”
“Drönke … drònke,” repeated the cousin, “and we all say that here.”
PATS !!! … the nephew got a fetch for his ears.
That was the signal to the main issue of the party program!
And bomb !! a powerful fist fell down on Piet’s hat.
Everyone took part in the fight, the men beat each other, the women worked each other’s faces with hairpins.
Piet became a bit too animated and he put on his hat to leave.
“You!” One of the guests roared at him, “what are you doing here? From the newspaper, huh? Do you have the heart in your falie to put us in the newspaper again … what it is … then I’ll put your hat over your face … look like that !! ”
And bomb !! a powerful fist dropped on Peter’s hat, which slumped him over his head to his nose.
Although Piet was absolutely not afraid to show the heavy-handed violator a piece of his martial art, he thought it better to disappear, because he understood that in no time at all he would have the whole family and the whole neighborhood against him.
And Pietje thanked for being “looked” at such a young age.
Without saying a word, he pulled his hat out of his eyes, left the fighting party, and re-stroked again when he had safely reached the main street …
In the alley there was still the barrel organ, the neighbors danced and the family fought, everything in honor of the groom and bride!
A few weeks later, Piet found his father in a worrying mood.
Father Bell walked up and down the store in great increments, and kept thinking about a large batch of boxes, neatly stacked in the wall cupboard according to size.
Piet came into the shop, whistling, and soon realized that something was wrong with father.
He stood next to him, looked at the rows of boxes and said:
“There are a lot of them!”
“Ten boxes full … each box a hundred pairs … a thousand pairs of shoes and not worth a cent.”
“Not worth a cent?”
“Well, these are old-fashioned, coarse shoes, … but very strong. Must cost ten guilders. But people nowadays do not buy these kinds of shoes anymore … they want fine shoes, lacquer points, buttons, gumboots and soles … I also have, more than enough …. but how do I get rid of that old party? ”
Piet opened one of the boxes and looked at the sturdy footwear.
“Looks strong and solid,” he said.
Then he sat down on a chair and thought about it.
“Do you sometimes know what?” Asked Father.
“Maybe not in the moment.”
Even though Pietje looked at those thousand boxes. During his work on the Morgenpost he had often come into contact with tradesmen, had learned a lot about doing business.
He had proved to father a long time ago that regular advertising in the newspaper is always bringing new customers and he understood that there must also be a means to help Father of this party to get rid of shoes.
“Well, father,” said Piet, “I have to go to the desk now, but I’ll think about it.”
On the way to the office, Pietje passed several shoe stores, but none of them did anything special.
And then Piet suddenly noticed a story that Flip had told him.
It had happened in Flips cigar shop.
There one day a gentleman came in with the demand for good Manila cigars.
Flip gave him the best that could be had, brand: Bouquet.
The customer took a box with him on a trial, but returned it the next day with the message that they were not satisfied and he wanted better.
“Dear sir,” Flip had said, accepting the box again. But Flip had no better, and knew that there was no better sale. And then he had put the same cigars in a new box and they were now called Perfectos.
When the customer had taken this box home with him, he came to say the same day that these Manila’s were much better and very much to his delight. 
Piet thought, if that happened with cigars, it can also be done with shoes.
And based on Flip’s story he based his plan.
What a daft, his father had a thousand pairs of shoes, not particularly nice and fine, that is true, but strong and beautiful enough for the working days!
And what you foreshadowed the people, they keep after them, especially when it was in the paper.
The newspaper !! … an idea !!
He had reported so many times about the opening of a new business, of bringing a new article to the market.
A new article!
There you had it.
Father’s thousand shoes were the new article. Well, much worse, they were a new invention!
A new kind of leather … NICE PAINTS leather !!!!!
Only invented … If that did not work !!!
Piet hastened his steps and arrived at the office, he reported to the director.
“Well, young friend, what can I do for you?” Was the friendly greeting.
“Sir,” he began, “my father has made a very important invention. An invention that will bring about a complete revolution in the shoe industry. ”
“Come on, and what does that mean?”
“Well, sir, last year an acquaintance of father, sailing in the Mediterranean, brought the skin of a hippopotamus and gave it to us as a present.
“At first father let the thing hang on a nail, but later he came up with the idea of tanning the skin and working it as leather.”
“Yes … and then?”
“The leather was a bit coarse, but through repeated adaptations my father succeeded in making it soft and pliable, and finally he made a pair of shoes so strong that they could be worn for months.”
“Well, that invention is worth gold!”
“Gold sir? Diamond, radium! Father then had three hundred hippos caught and skinned, and from those three hundred skins he made exactly one thousand shoes. They are a miracle!
“Gold sir? Diamond, radium! ”
“Well, well,” laughed Mr. Peters. “What can you tell them! But what do you really want? Sell me a few of them? ”
“Oh, you can buy as much of it as you want. But I do not mean that now. ”
“Oh, father regularly advertises in the Morgenpost and  now I wanted to put a bit in the columns.”
“Well, there’s nothing against that … go ahead … Bell.”
Piet was there only to do and after thanking the director, he left the room.
That evening the ad from father Bell was as follows:
in the field of
The STRONGEST shoe in the world.
Only Saturday a. S.-Sale begins twelve o’clock v.m.
10 guilders-10 guilders-10 guilders-10 guilders
All sizes available.-Please note-Only Saturday.
P. BELL’S SHOES MAGAZINE
And under the heading city news Piet wrote a very extensive and fantastic story about father’s invention and the hippos.
That was Thursday evening.
The next day a few competitor-shoe traders came to inform father Bell about the new invention, but father did not say much, only that he had to keep it a secret.
Pietje came home Friday with a pack of labels, printed with large letters in red and black:
THE STRONGEST SHOE IN THE WORLD.
fluoroquinolone toxicity treatment
N. P. Leer.-Tien guilder.
On Friday night there was an extra large advertisement in the newspaper, where Piet had spent all his ingenuity on. 
On Saturday morning at 10 o’clock a row of customers was waiting outside the door and that row grew steadily.
At noon before noon, there was no more holding, and Father telephoned the Police Bureau for a few agents, in order to keep order.
On Saturday morning at 10 o’clock a row of customers was waiting outside the door.
One of the merchants, a young man, who saw that Father and Mother Bell alone could not cope with the crowds, offered his services for that day, which was all too readily accepted.
There was no time for food … one pair of shoes flew after the other … everyone wanted a pair of hippos shoes … and all day the flow of merchants stopped.
And when the father closed the store at noon on Saturday-evening, there was not one left of the thousand pairs of shoes.
He had never seen such a day …
“Well, father,” Piet asked, “did my plan work?”
“Boy, your idea was American … but … you see … I’ve never done business that way … because … you see … it’s not actually a hippo …”
“What does that matter? Are not they the best shoes? ”
“Oh yes, good luck … better than many others …”
“So at least the people have the best value for their money, do not they?”
“Well what does the name do? Elephants, rabbits, hippos or spider’s heads … if it’s strong and good! ”
“And that’s it, Piet.”