, ostentatiously popping corks and making a
great show of "bottlage" for very little money. When they left their
seats they were _the_ men of the ship--in their own estimation; but
they had shot their bolt and could go no further, so they settled down
in a condition of social decay that became very distressing. This
recalls an incident of Thackeray's: he once saw an unimportant looking
man strutting along the deck of a steamer. Stepping up to him he said:

"Excuse me, sir, but are you any person in particular?"

Now we reach the post-card mania. This is the most pernicious disease
that has ever seized humanity since the days of the Garden of Eden, and
in no better place can it be seen at its worst than on a steamer
calling at foreign ports: once it gets a foothold it supplants almost
all other vices and becomes a veritable Frankenstein. It is harder to
break away from this habit than from poker, gossiping, strong drink,
tobacco, or even eating peas with your knife if you have been brought
up that way. The majority of the "Corks" when landing at a port would
not have stopped to say "Good morning" to Adam, to take a peep at Bwana
Tumbo's hides and horns, or to pick up the Declaration of Independence
if it lay at their feet--in their eager rush to load up with the cards
necessary to let all their friends know that they had arrived at any
given place on the map. This is but the first act in the drama, for
stamps must be found, writing places must be secured, pencils, pens and
ink must be had, together with a mailing list as long as to-day and
to-morrow. The smoking-room is invaded, the lounge occupied, and every
table, desk and chair in the writing-room is preempted, to the
exclusion of all who are not addressing post-cards. Although we toiled
like electrified beavers we got behind on the schedule, so that those
who did not finish at Malta had to work hard to get their cards off at
Constantinople, and so on through the trip. The chariot of Aurora
would hardly hold their output at a single port. At the start it was a
mild, pleasurable fad, but later it absorbed the victim's mind to such
an extent that he thought of nothing but the licking of stamps and
mailing of cards to friends--who get so many of them that they are for
the most part considered a nuisance and after a hasty glance are
quietly dropped in the waste-basket. Many had such an extensive
collection of mailing lists that it became necessary to segregate