But no, once more the appeal was disregarded. The small portmanteau was turned inside out. This the official chalked.
"So this is one of the habits of the English," cried the foreigner, bitterly.
"Not only the habits, Monsieur," observed a bystander, who trembling with apprehension, was waiting his turn; "but the customs. Customs that are out of date with the age. Customs that are contrary to the spirit of the century. Customs that cost more than they yield, and deserve to be cussed!"
"They do," cried the foreigner, excitedly. "May the Customs be—"
"You must not utter that word," interrupted the Revenue Officer, in a tone of peremptory command.
"It is British; why not?"
But although the foreigner was baffled in his desire to use the appropriate imprecation—he thought it!
MOTH-EATEN.
