Our necromancer […] taking up his wand, waved it around his head in a very mysterious motion, with a view of intimidating these forward visitants, who, far from being awed by this sort of evolution, became more and more obstreperous […].
Four fairs are held at Pest annually; and while they last, it is calculated that 20,000 strangers and 14,000 waggons pass the outer lines. 8000 large barges unload at the quay in the course of the year: the principal trade lies in wines, raw hides, honey, wax, and a vile spirit, called Slivovitz, made from plums.
The boy sits beside him and two of them are locked in a parenthesis of mutual zonkedness.
Damn those laboratory blubberheads to hell!
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