Sunny Memories Of Foreign Lands, Volume 1 by Harriet Beecher Stowe
page 105 of 409 (25%)
page 105 of 409 (25%)
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An old lady, who has been very sick all the way, is revived by this appalling intelligence. "I hope they won't tumble over my _caps!_" she exclaims. "Yes, they will have every thing out on deck," says the lady, delighted with the increasing sensation. "I tell you you don't know these custom house officers." "It's too bad!" "It's dreadful!" "How horrid!" exclaim all. "I shall put my best things in my pocket," exclaims one. "They don't search our pockets, do they?" "Well, no, not here; but I tell you they'll search your _pockets_ at Antwerp and Brussels," says the lady. Somebody catches the sound, and flies off into the state rooms with the intelligence that "the custom house officers are so dreadful--they rip open your trunks, pull out all your things, burn your books, take away your daguerreotypes, and even search your pockets;" and a row of groans is heard ascending from the row of state rooms, as all begin to revolve what they have in their trunks, and what they are to do in this emergency. "Pray tell me," said I to a gentlemanly man, who had crossed four or five times, "is there really so much annoyance at the custom house?" "Annoyance, ma'am? No, not the slightest." |
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