But while such grave thoughts are passing in the minds of some people, I must relate one or two amusing scenes which lately occurred at the city gates.

Travellers are not prohibited from going and coming; but on entering, it is necessary to be sure that they bring with their passports and baggage no prohibited or dangerous articles.  A young man from our side of the Atlantic, engaged in commerce, had been annoyed a good deal by the gate-officers opening and searching his baggage.  The next time he went to Grindwell, he brought, besides his usual trunks and carpet-bags, a rather large and very mysterious-looking box.  After going through with the trunks and bags, the officers took hold of this box.

“Gentlemen,” said the young practical joker, “I have great objections to having that box opened.  Yet it contains, I assure you, nothing contraband, nothing dangerous to the peace of the Grindwell government or people.  It is simply a toy I am taking to a friend’s house as a Christmas present to his little boy.  If I open it, I fear I shall have difficulty in arranging it again as neatly as I wish,—­and it would be a great disappointment to my little friend Auguste Henri, if he should not find it neatly packed.  It would show at once that it had been opened; and children like to have their presents done up nicely, just as they issued from the shop.  Gentlemen, I shall take it as a great favor, if you will let it pass.”

“Sir,” said the head officer, “it is impossible to grant the favor you ask.  The government is very strict.  Many prohibited articles have lately found their way in.  We are determined to put a stop to it.”

“Gentlemen,” said the young man, “take hold of that box,—­lift it.  You see how light it is; you see that there can be no contraband goods there,—­still less, anything dangerous.  I pray you to let it pass.”

“Impossible, Sir!” said the officer.  “How do I know that there is nothing dangerous there?  The weight is nothing.  Its lightness rather makes it the more suspicious.  Boxes like this are usually heavy.  This is something out of the usual course.  I’m afraid there’s electricity here.  Gentlemen officers, proceed to do your duty!”

So a crowd of custom-house officers gathered around the suspected box, with their noses bent down over the lid, awaiting the opening.  One of them was about to proceed with hammer and chisel.

“Stop,” said the young merchant, “I can save you a great deal of trouble.  I can open it in an instant.  Allow me—­by touching a little spring here”—­

As he said this, he pressed a secret spring on the side of the box.  No sooner was it done than, the lid was thrown back with sudden and tremendous violence, as if by some living force, and up jumped a hideous and shaggy monster which knocked the six custom-house officers flat on their backs.  It was an enormous Punchinello on springs, who had been confined in the box like the Genie in the Arabian story,