I shall not speak of the railway, for it is like any other railway—I shall only say that the fuel they use for the locomotive is composed of mummies three thousand years old, purchased by the ton or by the graveyard for that purpose and that sometimes one hears the profane engineer call out pettishly, "D--n these plebeians, they don't burn worth a cent—pass out a King …Twain, Mark. The Innocents Abroad, or, The New Pilgrim’s Progress. New York: Signet Classics, 1997.
