But I suspected that the ranks were thin now, and the steamboatmen no longer an aristocracy.

Why, in my time they used to call the 'barkeep' Bill, or Joe, or Tom, and slap him on the shoulder; I watched for that.

But none of these people did it.

Manifestly a glory that once was had dissolved and vanished away in these twenty-one years.
When I went up to my room, I found there the young man called Rogers, crying.

Rogers was not his name; neither was Jones, Brown, Dexter, Ferguson, Bascom, nor Thompson; but he answered to either of these that a body found handy in an emergency; or to any other name, in fact, if he perceived that you meant him.