I was still wearing Florsheim cordovan wingtip shoes, medium gray flannel slacks, with a broadcoth crème shirt that displayed pale green stripes setting off my dark green silk tie imprinted with light brown heads of horses.
[H]e called into presence the kazees and the witnesses, and brought in the three Qurundeels, and brought in the first damsel, and her own sister who had been ensorceled, and he married the three to the three Qurundeels, who had informed him that they were kings, […]
it was talkd, that there was an old gentleman belowstairs whom they fancied to be Sr. Isaac Newton.
It was, H. L. Mencken opined, “the stupidest and most harrisome ever heard of ... a convention of country postmasters, federal marshals and receivers in bankruptcy. …”
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