When he appeared in the exchange he received a popular ovation, which naturally greatly pleased him. However, he modestly strove to escape the overwhelming demonstrations of admiration and approval with which he was greeted, by retiring to a coffee room, but he was compelled to show himself again and again at the window in response to repeated demands from crowds of people assembled in the street who desired a sight of him. He was made the hero of song and story, and one of the ballads of the time, a rude, rollicking, drinking song, very popular among sailors, which celebrates his exploits, is sung to this day in the streets of Amsterdam.[25] So delighted were the Dutch with the humiliation he had inflicted upon their ancient enemy that some of the principal men of the nation, including the celebrated Baron van der Capellen, subsequently noted for his friendship for America (evidently not in harmony with the aristocratic party), entered into a correspondence with him, which must have been highly flattering to him, from the expressions of admiration and approval with which every letter of the baron's abounds. They desired to receive at first hand an account of his exploits. In response to this request Jones had his report to Dr. Franklin copied and sent to van der Capellen, together with other documents illustrative of his career, accompanied by the following letter: "On Board the Serapis at the Texel, "_October 19, 1779_. "My Lord: Human nature and America are under a very singular obligation to you for your patriotism and friendship, and I feel every grateful sentiment for your generous and polite letter. "Agreeable to your request I have the honour to inclose a copy of my letter to his Excellency Doctor Franklin, containing a particular account of my late expedition on the coasts of Britain and Ireland, by which you will see that I have already been praised far more than I have deserved; but I must at the same time beg leave to observe that by the other papers which I take the liberty to inclose (particularly the copy of my letter to the Countess of Selkirk, dated the day of my arrival at Brest from the Irish Sea), I hope you will be convinced that in the British prints I have been censured unjustly. I was, indeed, born in Britain, but I do not inherit the degenerate spirit of that fallen nation, which I at once lament and despise. It is far beneath me to reply to their hireling invectives. They are strangers to the inward approbation that greatly animates and rewards the man who draws his sword only in support of the dignity of freedom.