Temperance > Autobiography and personal recollections of John B. Gough

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AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF JOHN B. GOUGH.
for at every custom station, that wretched doll would he
dragged out of the trunk by an official, either by the leg,
the arm, or the head, and held up, as if in triumph, with
such lifting of the eyebrows, shrugging of shoulders, ges¬
ticulation, and jabber, as almost drove me wild. I could
only say, “ What do you want ?—am I to pay again ?—
keep the doll, if you want it,” and the officer would grasp
the miserable thing by the middle, and, holding it up,
like some hard-won trophy, shake it in my face, making
“ extremes meet,” as the head and heels would strike to¬
gether, and furiously storm at me, till I wished the doll
had been drowned in Lake Leman, or could be endued
with life, and paid for as a regular passenger. But I sur¬
vived, and the doll was brought home. Should I ever
travel again on the Continent, and by any misfortune, or
possibility, be induced to consent that a doll should be
placed in my charge to convey through the custom-houses,
I give warning, that doll must be clothed; for I never will
again submit to the indignity of an official shaking such a
wretched shapeless thing in my face, for any consideration.
At Basle I walked out in the streets, and was delighted
to hear about sixty students sing in the open square. It
was very fine.
In Cologne we purchased—as every one does, or should
do—some veritable “ Eau de Cologne,” and visited the
cathedral. We saw the skulls of ten thousand virgins—
that is, we saw some skulls. The attendant showed us a
small cracked jar, carefully inclosed in a case, lined with
crimson velvet, and told us that was one of the jars the
Saviour filled with wine at the marriage of Cana. My
wife turned away, and he said, with a shrug, “ Americaine
—hah! not moosh like relique.”
This “relic” reminded me of the sword that was ex¬
hibited as Balaam’s sword, with which he slew the ass.