There is a man in New York who has gained notoriety because he refuses to join the 20th century. In a few months he will refuse to join the 21st century. He wears high button shoes, and Prince Albert coats. He has mutton chop sideburns, and a handlebar mustache. He lives in a garret in Greenwich Village. He reads Dickens and Jane Eyre, only 19th century novels, and shuns all the things he can that have been manufactured in the 20th century.

Now my children, and certain members of this staff, accuse me of wanting to go back to the 19th century. And I am offended that they would suggest that. I don't want to go back to the 19th century. The 18th century, I think, is where I belong. I am reading a fascinating book now about the early Middle Ages, and I am kind of attracted to that now, too.…