“Please to tell him,” said I, “that those bills and lithographs are not articles of commerce; that they are simply advertisements.”
My English friend did as I requested; but it was of no use; the custom-house officer kept piling them upon his scales. I grew more excited.
“Please tell him I give them away,” I said. The translation of my assertion into German did not help me; a double grunt from the functionary was the only response. Tom Thumb, meanwhile, jumped about like a little monkey for he was fairly delighted at my worry and perplexity. Finally, I said to my new found English friend: “Be good enough to tell the officer to keep the bills if he wants them, and that I will not pay duty on them any how.”
He was duly informed of my determination, but he was immovable. He lighted his huge Dutch pipe, got the exact weight, and marking it down, handed it to a clerk, who copied it on his book, and solemnly passed it over to another clerk, who copied it on still another book; a third clerk then took it, and copied it on to a printed bill, the size of a half letter sheet, which was duly stamped in red ink with several official devices. By this time I was in a profuse perspiration; and as the document passed from clerk to clerk, I told them they need not trouble themselves to make out a bill for I would not pay it; they would get no duty and they might keep the property.
To be sure, I could not spare the placards for any length of time, for they were exceedingly valuable to me as advertisements and I could not easily have duplicated them in Germany; but I was determined that I would not pay duties on articles which were not merchandise. Every transfer, therefore, of the bill to a new clerk, gave me a fresh twinge, for I imagined that every clerk added more charges, and every charge was a tighter turn to the vise which held my fingers. Finally, the last clerk defiantly thrust in my face the terrible official document, on which were scrawled certain cabalistic characters, signifying the amount of money I should be forced to pay to the German government before I could have my property. I would not touch it; but resolved I would really leave my packages until I could communicate with one of our consuls in Germany, and I said as much to the English gentleman who had kindly interpreted for me.
He took the bill, and examining it, burst into a loud laugh. “Why, it is but fifteen kreutzers!” he said.
“How much is that?” I asked, feeling for the golden sovereigns in my pocket.
“Sixpence!” was the reply.
I was astonished and delighted, and as I handed out the money, I begged him to tell the officials that