Concerning, Among Other Things, The Legs of a Gentleman-in-Powder

In that delightful book, "The Arabian Nights' Entertainments," one
may read of Spirits good, and bad, and indifferent; of slaves of
lamps, of rings and amulets, and talismanic charms; and of the
marvels and wonders they performed. But never did Afrit, Djinn, or
Genie perform greater miracles than steady-eyed, soft-voiced Peterby.
For if the far away Orient has its potent charms and spells, so, in
this less romantic Occident, have we also a spell whereby all things
are possible, a charm to move mountains--a spell whereby kings
become slaves, and slaves, kings; and we call it Money.

Aladdin had his wonderful Lamp, and lo! at the Genie's word, up
sprang a palace, and the wilderness blossomed; Barnabas had his
overflowing purse, and behold! Peterby went forth, and the dull room
at the "George" became a mansion in the midst of Vanity Fair.

Thus, at precisely four o'clock on the afternoon of the third day,
Barnabas stood before a cheval mirror in the dressing-room of his
new house, surveying his reflection with a certain complacent
satisfaction.

His silver-buttoned blue coat, high-waisted and cunningly rolled of
collar, was a sartorial triumph; his black stockinette pantaloons,
close-fitting from hip to ankle and there looped and buttoned,
accentuated muscled calf and virile thigh in a manner somewhat
disconcerting; his snowy waistcoat was of an original fashion and cut,
and his cravat, folded and caressed into being by Peterby's fingers,
was an elaborate masterpiece, a matchless creation never before seen
upon the town. Barnabas had become a dandy, from the crown of his
curly head to his silk stockings and polished shoes, and, upon the
whole, was not ill-pleased with himself.