PASSING AN ENTRY.

Oamaru Mail, Volume I, Issue 29, 25 May 1876, Page 2

PASSING AN ENTRY.

By Constable X

Gentle reader, have your ever, had to pass an entry ? If you have not indulged in this amusing pastime, let me assure you that for two hours of real good running about ancl a thorough insight into redtapeism, it has 110 equal. I had to pass an entry this nioruing on a small parcel that came from Melbourne, and this is how it was done, and is recorded in my diary :—Time :10 a.m. Called at the Custom House, and enquired of Mr. Thompson —the most obliging Government official I have ever met—if there was a parcel for me from Melbourne I The courteous sub-collector informs me that there is. I ask " how lam to get it." He says, "Go down to Flett's, get four Imports A. ancl fill them in." You go down to' Flett's, and ask for four Imports A. The young man is very busy, and he gives you. three Imports W. You run back to the Customs, and ask the clerk how they are to be filled in. He says that you have got the wrong forms; that Imports W won't do, and that you must get Imports A, and four of them. Then you go outside and bless Flett's young man, and make another start for imports A. J list before you enter the shop a man asks you if it is true that Muggin's wife has eloped witli Captain Flash, of the No. 201 Company. You say you have not heard. Then the stranger says, " Have a drink You drink, and by that time you are not quite sure whether it is Imports A or W you were to get. However, you chance it, and take four Imports A. Returning to the Custom House the clerk asks if you have the invoice of the parcel. Of course you have no invoice ; the fact is the parcel is a present from home. He says you must bring a letter from your friend in Melbourne to prove it. You tell liim that you'll see him blessed first, when he says, "No bad language here, sir"; and you run out in the street to finish your blessing. Finding it 110 use arguing the point, you go home two miles out of town to find the letter. Your wife says she saw the baby playing with it last, so this means hunting about in the back-yard to see if the letter has been swept out with the rubbish. At last you run back to the Custom House. • Time, 11.25 a.m., or one hour and twenty-five minutes gone, and no sign of the parcel yet. The clerk asks.you what is in the parcel. You don't see that it is any business of his, and refuse to inform him. He says, "If you don't tell me, you won't get the parcel.'' Then blushingly you state that the parcel contains a long robe, two long nightdresses, and a baby's hood. He looks hard at you and says, "It won't do, Mr. X. We get too many babies' night-dresses by every Melbourne steamer. Better declare it as a silk dress at once, and save an enquiry." "My cfcar sir, I assure you the parcel contains baby's clothes. lam expecting they will be wanted any moment." The clerk visibly melts. He thinks there must be some truth in the statement, and then he tells you to fill in the printed forms. All four are filled in, and then an order is given to get the parcel. You go down with a light heart to the goods shed, and there meet Mr. Lorim, another gentleman who is courtesy itself. He says, "Yery sorry, Mr. X., but you must get an order from the shipping agents." 11.50 am.—Off you fly to the shipping agent, and Mr. Aitken takes your 2s. 6d. for freight, hands you a receipt, and then, oh, joy ! once more bound for the goods shed. Mr. Lorim looks at the receipt, says it's all correct, and then asks for 3s. 6d. This makes the present rather a dear one, but the official informs you that 4 ' We really don't get much out of this ; our charge is Is., the Harbour Board get the balance." The cash paid, the only tiling necessary now is an express, to convey: the baby's clothes home. This can be obtained for 2s. 6d., and so your parcel is at last on the dining-room table. You open the parcel, and oh, ecstacy, it is a sample o| grown by a friend in Victoria, and. lie wants to know if it can be beaten for quality in. New Zealand. The proper parcel lias missed'the steamer. This is annoying, but your only consolation is the Press, so you rush into print. Now, if tills is not a pleasant way of spending two hours, I don't know what is.