"But," I protested, "what's sixpence to you? You drink champagne all
day. You begin at nine in the morning!"
"I drink champagne," said the clerk, "because for three years I have
myself alone in the bush lived, but, can I to my directors go with a
book not balanced?" He laid his hand upon his heart and shook his
head. "It is my heart that tells me 'No!'"
After three weeks he gave a shout, his face blushed with pleasure,
and actual tears were in his eyes. He had dug out the error, and at
once he celebrated the recovery of the single sixpence by giving me
twenty-four shillings' worth of champagne. It is a true story, and
illustrates, I think, the training and method of the German mind, of
the industry of the merchants who are trading over all the seas. As
a rule the "trade" goods "made in Germany" are "shoddy." They do not
compare in quality with those of England or the States; in every
foreign port you will find that the English linen is the best, that
the American agricultural implements, American hardware, saws, axes,
machetes, are superior to those manufactured in any other country.
But the German, though his goods are poorer, cuts the coat to please
the customer. He studies the wishes of the man who is to pay. He is
not the one who says: "Take it, or leave it."
The agent of one of the largest English firms on the Ivory Coast,
one that started by trading in slaves, said to me: "Our largest
shipment to this coast is gin.
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