There is a line in one of the sparkling odes of Horace, suggesting that when a pink elephant ascends from the foam of your cup of grape, perches himself on the rim and grins at you in a very friendly way, the white wagging his trunk, it is time to take the rest cure. “Neddie” Marshall, blithest of all multi-millionaire mining Marshalls, may or may not have read this line, but the fact remains that he is resting now in Bellevue Hospital, where he was borne from Riverside Park and Seventy-fifth street last evening following his discovery of a highly interesting troupe of pink elephants, sky-blue hippos and pale green tomcats.
    The young man made the journey from the East Sixty-eight street station in an ambulance, after he had given battle to a dozen more policemen, when they refused to believe he owned Central Park and Governor’s Island.
    Edward R., much better known to a multitude of friends as “Neddie” Marshall, came out of the West, three weeks ago, arriving first at the Waldorf-Astoria. From the Waldorf, he went to the Ritz-Carlton, from the Ritz to the Tourenne Hotel in Boston, then back to New York for a brief stay at the St. Regis and from the latter hostelry to Bretton Hall.
    “Neddie” is a nephew of the rich E. Marshall, former president of the Phoenix National Bank. But “Neddie” did not find time, in his brief sojourn, to call on his uncle, though he did call several times at his uncle’s bank to be identified. He had many checks to cash had “Neddie,” for New York is an expensive place to breeze through at four speeds forward and no reverse.

From—The Evening World. (New York, N.Y.), 29 May 1912. Chronicling America: Historic American Newspapers. Lib. of Congress.