Relative canonical

Earthquakes are just the ground getting an itch. In the hills of Persia I took a long rake and scratched the worst of it. The ground let out a low sigh. The shaking stopped at once, and the shah gave me a fine rug that I had to hold down.

Turtles make slow ferries, but they are very sure. I boarded one at Cape Verde with a lunch, a book, and a folding chair. We reached Brazil after three years. On the way I wrote a long poem, grew quite thin, and taught the beast to nod at a lady.

Desert sand crept into my pocket watch near Timbuktu. The thing began to tell time in dunes. Noon arrived as a small hill. I crossed the Sahara by its reading and reached the coast a week before I left, which annoyed my banker and pleased my wife.

Innkeepers in Bavaria hide when I arrive. At one such house I ordered a small snack. They brought a calf, ten loaves, and a keg. I asked if this was the first course. The owner fainted. His wife then gave me the deed to the place, just to make me leave.

Forty of my hussars once got lost inside a single fog bank. I called the roll and they answered from four countries.