If these things were presumed, the presumption was at fault.

The venerable excursionists were not gay and frisky.

They played no blind-man's buff; they dealt not in whist; they shirked not the irksome journal, for alas! most of them were even writing books.

They never romped, they talked but little, they never sang, save in the nightly prayer-meeting.

The pleasure ship was a synagogue, and the pleasure trip was a funeral excursion without a corpse.