Typo: A Monthly Newspaper and Literary Review, Volume 4
We have had something to say about the qualifications and the value (a minus quantity) of the so-called Customs « experts. » Victoria possesses one of these expensive luxuries, whose eccentricities will bear comparison with those of his New Zealand colleague. Mr Morrison, of the Mosgiel Woollen Factory, tells a little story, with more than one moral. A quantity of woollen dress stuffs were sent over by the Mosgiel Company to Victoria, similar dress stuffs being admitted free, while woollen dress tweeds are subject to 30 per cent. duty. The experts were told that the goods were from New Zealand, and they carefully examined them, coming to the decision that they were not woollen dress stuffs, and therefore liable to duty. This decision was sustained by the Customs authorities. A second consignment of the same goods was sent, but nothing said as to the country from which they came; and, on being examined by the experts, they were held to be free of duty 1 The agent of the company appealed and stated the facts of the case. The Customs authorities felt the absurdity of the opposing decisions, and the woollen dress stuffs of the company are now admitted free. One landing-waiter of integrity and ordinary abilities is worth more than all the « experts » in all the colones.
Our correspondent, Mr E. Tucker, who wrote last year about the Galignani statue, writes us again, from Stratford, Taranaki. He says: When I wrote last year, I was aware of Sir Sydney Waterlow's munificent gifts to the Jubilee of London, and I have always taken interest in his remarkable career. I was for fourteen years overseer with the firm of Adlands, Bartholomew Close, and when he started business as printer in a small way, he applied to that firm for a young man to conduct the business. A young man took charge, but his health broke down as the business increased. Mr Waterlow applied for another, and the young man that I recommended managed the business for over twenty years, when he retired with an ample fortune and shares in the business. We have corresponded ever since my arrival in the colony, more than thirty years ago, and I send you the following extract from a letter lately received from him: « Did you see what an enormous fortune—over £534,000—was accumulated by that cock-robin-shop printer, Edward Lloyd? He had, however, plenty of sons and daughters—eight of the latter.—Our firm thrives still. Besides paying a steady percentage annually, we have built an enormous block of buildings called Bloomfield House, in Bloomfield-street, near London Wall, on the site of Phene's furniture place, Norrie's printing office, and a lot of other establishments—all out of revenue; added four large portions to those already existing,, and filled them with costly machinery—all out of revenue also. We have now the largest number of printing-machines of any firm in London— perhaps in the world. »