ference to those
among the after-cabin passengers who could give them pleasure, and there
were self-forgetting-bodies who turned their thoughts frequently on the
ship, the crew, the sea, the solar system, the Maker of the universe.
These also thought of their fellow-passengers in the fore-cabin, who of
course had a little family or world of their own, with its similar joys,
and sins, and sorrows, before the mast; and there were uproarious-bodies
who kept the little world lively--sometimes a little too lively.

As the Royal Mail steamer rushed out to sea and was tossed on the
ocean's breast, these human elements began to mix and effervesce and
amalgamate, or fizz, burst, and go off, like squibs and crackers.

There was a Mrs Pods with three little girls, and a Mrs Tods with two
little boys, whose first casual glance at each other was transmuted into
a glare of undying and unreasoning hate. These ladies were exceptions
to the rule of general urbanity before mentioned. Both had fiery faces,
and each read the other through and through at a glance. There was a
Miss Bluestocking who charmed some people, irritated others, frightened
a few, and caused many to sneer. Her chief friend among the males was a
young man named Mr Weakeyes, who had a small opinion of himself and a
very receptive mind. Miss Troolove, among the ladies, was her chief
friend. The strange misnomers which one meets with in society were also
found in the little world in that steamer--that Royal Mail steamer we
should say--for, while we turn aside for a brief period to condescend
upon these particulars, we would not have the reader forget that they
have an indirect bearing on the main thread of our tale.

One misnamed lady was a Miss Mist, who, instead of being light, airy,
and ethereal, as she ought to have been, weighed at least twelve stone
six. But she sang divinely, was a great favourite with the young people
on board, and would have been very much missed indeed if she had not
been there. There was also a Mr Stout, who was the tallest and
thinnest man in the ship.

On the other hand there were some whose names had been obviously the
result of a sense of propriety in some one. Among the men who were
rabidly set on distinguishing themselves in one way or another was a
Major Beak. Now, why was it that this Major's nose was an aquiline of
the most outrageous dimensions? Surely no one would argue that the nose
grew to accommodate the name. Is it