“What’s the blooming thing for?” said Charon, more dismayed than ever.  “If they start another line with a craft like this, I’m very much afraid I’m done for after all.  I wouldn’t take a boat like mine myself if there was a floating palace like this going the same way.  I’ll have to see the Commissioners about this, and find out what it all means.  I suppose it’ll cost me a pretty penny, too, confound them!”

A prey to these unhappy reflections, Charon investigated further, and the more he saw the less he liked it.  He was about to encounter opposition, and an opposition which was apparently backed by persons of great wealth—­perhaps the Commissioners themselves.  It was a consoling thought that he had saved enough money in the course of his career to enable him to live in comfort all his days, but this was not really what Charon was after.  He wished to acquire enough to retire and become one of the smart set.  It had been done in that section of the universe which lay on the bright side of the Styx, why not, therefore, on the other, he asked.

“I’m pretty well connected even if I am a boatman,” he had been known to say.  “With Chaos for a grandfather, and Erebus and Nox for parents, I’ve just as good blood in my veins as anybody in Hades.  The Noxes are a mighty fine family, not as bright as the Days, but older; and we’re poor—­that’s it, poor—­and it’s money makes caste these days.  If I had millions, and owned a railroad, they’d call me a yacht-owner.  As I haven’t, I’m only a boatman.  Bah!  Wait and see!  I’ll be giving swell functions myself some day, and these upstarts will be on their knees before me begging to be asked.  Then I’ll get up a little aristocracy of my own, and I won’t let a soul into it whose name isn’t mentioned in the Grecian mythologies.  Mention in Burke’s peerage and the Elite directories of America won’t admit anybody to Commodore Charon’s house unless there’s some other mighty good reason for it.”

Foreseeing an unhappy ending to all his hopes, the old man clambered sadly back into his ancient vessel and paddled off into the darkness.  Some hours later, returning with a large company of new arrivals, while counting up the profits of the day Charon again caught sight of the new craft, and saw that it was brilliantly lighted and thronged with the most famous citizens of the Erebean country.  Up in the bow was a spirit band discoursing music of the sweetest sort.  Merry peals of laughter rang out over the dark waters of the Styx.  The clink of glasses and the popping of corks punctuated the music with a frequency which would have delighted the soul of the most ardent lover of commas, all of which so overpowered the grand master boatman of the Stygian Ferry Company that he dropped three oboli and an American dime, which he carried as a pocket-piece, overboard.  This, of course, added to his woe; but it was forgotten in an instant, for some one on the new boat had turned a search-light directly upon Charon himself, and simultaneously hailed the master of the ferry-boat.