THE PETERKIN PAPERS

By Lucretia P. Hale

Mrs. Peterkin Puts Salt into Her Coffee. 

Dedicated

To Meggie (The Daughter of The Lady From Philadelphia)

To Whom These Stories Were First Told

Preface to The Second Edition of The Peterkin Papers

THE first of these stories was accepted by Mr. Howard M. Ticknor forthe "Young Folks. " They were afterwards continued in numbers of the "St. Nicholas. "

A second edition is now printed, containing a new paper, which has neverbefore been published, "The Peterkins at the Farm. "

It may be remembered that the Peterkins originally hesitated aboutpublishing their Family Papers, and were decided by referring the matterto the lady from Philadelphia. A little uncertain of whether she mighthappen to be at Philadelphia, they determined to write and ask her. 

Solomon John suggested a postal-card. Everybody reads a postal, andeverybody would read it as it came along, and see its importance, andhelp it on. If the lady from Philadelphia were away, her family and allher servants would read it, and send it after her, for answer. 

Elizabeth Eliza thought the postal a bright idea. It would not take solong to write as a letter, and would not be so expensive. But could theyget the whole subject on a postal?

Mr. Peterkin believed there could be no difficulty, there was but onequestion:--

Shall the adventures of the Peterkin family be published?

This was decided upon, and there was room for each of the family tosign, the little boys contenting themselves with rough sketches of theirindia-rubber boots. 

Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, and Solomon John took the postal-card to thepost-office early one morning, and by the afternoon of that very day, and all the next day, and for many days, came streaming in answers onpostals and on letters. Their card had been addressed to the lady fromPhiladelphia, with the number of her street. But it must have been readby their neighbors in their own town post-office before leaving; it musthave been read along its way: for by each mail came piles of postals andletters from town after town, in answer to the question, and all in thesame tone: "Yes, yes; publish the adventures of the Peterkin family. "

"Publish them, of course. "

And in time came the answer of the lady from Philadelphia:--"Yes, ofcourse; publish them. "

This is why they were published. 

THE LADY WHO PUT SALT IN HER COFFEE. 

THIS was Mrs. Peterkin. It was a mistake. She had poured out a deliciouscup of coffee, and, just as she was helping herself to cream, she foundshe had put in salt instead of sugar! It tasted bad. What should she do?Of course she couldn't drink the coffee; so she called in the family, for she was sitting at a late breakfast all alone. The family came in;they all tasted, and looked, and wondered what should be done, and allsat down to think. 

At last Agamemnon, who had been to college, said, "Why don't we go overand ask the advice of the chemist?" (For the chemist lived over theway, and was a very wise man. ) Mrs. Peterkin said, "Yes, " and Mr. Peterkin said, "Very well, " and all the children said they would go too. So the little boys put on their india-rubber boots, and over they went. 

Now the chemist was just trying to find out something which should turneverything it touched into gold; and he had a large glass bottle intowhich he put all kinds of gold and silver, and many other valuablethings, and melted them all up over the fire, till he had almost foundwhat he wanted. He could turn things into almost gold. But just now hehad used up all the gold that he had round the house, and gold washigh. He had used up his wife's gold thimble and his great-grandfather'sgold-bowed spectacles; and he had melted up the gold head of hisgreat-great-grandfather's cane; and, just as the Peterkin family camein, he was down on his knees before his wife, asking her to let him haveher wedding-ring to melt up with an the rest, because this time he knewhe should succeed, and should be able to turn everything into gold; andthen she could have a new wedding-ring of diamonds, all set in emeraldsand rubies and topazes, and all the furniture could be turned into thefinest of gold. 

Now his wife was just consenting when the Peterkin family burst in. You can imagine how mad the chemist was! He came near throwing hiscrucible--that was the name of his melting-pot--at their heads. But hedidn't. He listened as calmly as he could to the story of how Mrs. Peterkin had put salt in her coffee. 

At first he said he couldn't do anything about it; but when Agamemnonsaid they would pay in gold if he would only go, he packed up hisbottles in a leather case, and went back with them all. 

First he looked at the coffee, and then stirred it. Then he put in alittle chlorate of potassium, and the family tried it all round; but ittasted no better. Then he stirred in a little bichlorate of magnesia. But Mrs. Peterkin didn't like that. Then he added some tartaric acidand some hypersulphate of lime. But no; it was no better. "I have it!"exclaimed the chemist, --"a little ammonia is just the thing!" No, itwasn't the thing at all. 

Then he tried, each in turn, some oxalic, cyanic, acetic, phosphoric, chloric, hyperchloric, sulphuric, boracic, silicic, nitric, formic, nitrous nitric, and carbonic acids. Mrs. Peterkin tasted each, and saidthe flavor was pleasant, but not precisely that of coffee. So then hetried a little calcium, aluminum, barium, and strontium, a little clearbitumen, and a half of a third of a sixteenth of a grain of arsenic. This gave rather a pretty color; but still Mrs. 

Peterkin ungratefully said it tasted of anything but coffee. The chemistwas not discouraged. He put in a little belladonna and atropine, somegranulated hydrogen, some potash, and a very little antimony, finishingoff with a little pure carbon. But still Mrs. Peterkin was notsatisfied. 

The chemist said that all he had done ought to have taken out thesalt. The theory remained the same, although the experiment had failed. Perhaps a little starch would have some effect. If not, that was allthe time he could give. He should like to be paid, and go. They were allmuch obliged to him, and willing to give him $1. 37 1/2 in gold. Goldwas now 2. 69 3/4, so Mr. Peterkin found in the newspaper. This gaveAgamemnon a pretty little sum. He sat himself down to do it. But therewas the coffee! All sat and thought awhile, till Elizabeth Eliza said, "Why don't we go to the herb-woman?" Elizabeth Eliza was the onlydaughter. She was named after her two aunts, --Elizabeth, from the sisterof her father; Eliza, from her mother's sister. Now, the herb-woman wasan old woman who came round to sell herbs, and knew a great deal. Theyall shouted with joy at the idea of asking her, and Solomon John andthe younger children agreed to go and find her too. The herb-womanlived down at the very end of the street; so the boys put on theirindia-rubber boots again, and they set off. It was a long walk throughthe village, but they came at last to the herb-woman's house, at thefoot of a high hill. They went through her little garden. Here she hadmarigolds and hollyhocks, and old maids and tall sunflowers, and allkinds of sweet-smelling herbs, so that the air was full of tansy-teaand elder-blow. Over the porch grew a hop-vine, and a brandy-cherrytree shaded the door, and a luxuriant cranberry-vine flung its deliciousfruit across the window. They went into a small parlor, which smelt veryspicy. All around hung little bags full of catnip, and peppermint, andall kinds of herbs; and dried stalks hung from the ceiling; and on theshelves were jars of rhubarb, senna, manna, and the like. 

But there was no little old woman. She had gone up into the woods toget some more wild herbs, so they all thought they would followher, --Elizabeth Eliza, Solomon John, and the little boys. They had toclimb up over high rocks, and in among huckleberry-bushes and blackberry-vines. But the little boys had their india-rubber boots. At lastthey discovered the little old woman. They knew her by her hat. It wassteeple-crowned, without any vane. They saw her digging with her trowelround a sassafras bush. They told her their story, ---how their mother hadput salt in her coffee, and how the chemist had made it worse insteadof better, and how their mother couldn't drink it, and wouldn't shecome and see what she could do? And she said she would, and took up herlittle old apron, with pockets all round, all filled with everlastingand pennyroyal, and went back to her house. 

There she stopped, and stuffed her huge pockets with some of all thekinds of herbs. She took some tansy and peppermint, and caraway-seedand dill, spearmint and cloves, pennyroyal and sweet marjoram, basil androsemary, wild thyme and some of the other time, ---such as you have inclocks, --sappermint and oppermint, catnip, valerian, and hop; indeed, there isn't a kind of herb you can think of that the little old womandidn't have done up in her little paper bags, that had all been dried inher little Dutch-oven. She packed these all up, and then went back withthe children, taking her stick. 

Meanwhile Mrs. Peterkin was getting quite impatient for her coffee. 

As soon as the little old woman came she had it set over the fire, andbegan to stir in the different herbs. First she put in a little hop forthe bitter. Mrs. 

Peterkin said it tasted like hop-tea, and not at all like coffee. Thenshe tried a little flagroot and snakeroot, then some spruce gum, andsome caraway and some dill, some rue and rosemary, some sweet marjoramand sour, some oppermint and sappermint, a little spearmint andpeppermint, some wild thyme, and some of the other tame time, sometansy and basil, and catnip and valerian, and sassafras, ginger, andpennyroyal. The children tasted after each mixture, but made up dreadfulfaces. Mrs. Peterkin tasted, and did the same. The more the old womanstirred, and the more she put in, the worse it all seemed to taste. 

So the old woman shook her head, and muttered a few words, and saidshe must go. She believed the coffee was bewitched. She bundled up herpackets of herbs, and took her trowel, and her basket, and her stick, and went back to her root of sassafras, that she had left half in theair and half out. And all she would take for pay was five cents incurrency. 

Then the family were in despair, and all sat and thought a great while. It was growing late in the day, and Mrs. Peterkin hadn't had her cupof coffee. At last Elizabeth Eliza said, "They say that the lady fromPhiladelphia, who is staying in town, is very wise. Suppose I go and askher what is best to be done. " To this they all agreed, it was a greatthought, and off Elizabeth Eliza went. 

She told the lady from Philadelphia the whole story, --how her mother hadput salt in the coffee; how the chemist had been called in; how he triedeverything but could make it no better; and how they went for the littleold herb-woman, and how she had tried in vain, for her mother couldn'tdrink the coffee. The lady from Philadelphia listened very attentively, and then said, "Why doesn't your mother make a fresh cup of coffee?"Elizabeth Eliza started with surprise. 

Solomon John shouted with joy; so did Agamemnon, who had just finishedhis sum; so did the little boys, who had followed on. "Why didn't wethink of that?" said Elizabeth Eliza; and they all went back to theirmother, and she had her cup of coffee. 

ABOUT ELIZABETH ELIZA'S PIANO. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA had a present of a piano, and she was to take lessons ofthe postmaster's daughter. 

They decided to have the piano set across the window in the parlor, andthe carters brought it in, and went away. 

After they had gone the family all came in to look at the piano; butthey found the carters had placed it with its back turned towards themiddle of the room, standing close against the window. 

How could Elizabeth Eliza open it? How could she reach the keys to playupon it?

Solomon John proposed that they should open the window, which Agamemnoncould do with his long arms. Then Elizabeth Eliza should go round uponthe piazza, and open the piano. Then she could have her music-stool onthe piazza, and play upon the piano there. 

So they tried this; and they all thought it was a very pretty sight tosee Elizabeth Eliza playing on the piano, while she sat on the piazza, with the honeysuckle vines behind her. 

It was very pleasant, too, moonlight evenings. Mr. Peterkin liked totake a doze on his sofa in the room; but the rest of the family liked tosit on the piazza. 

So did Elizabeth Eliza, only she had to have her back to the moon. 

All this did very well through the summer; but, when the fall came, Mr. Peterkin thought the air was too cold from the open window, and thefamily did not want to sit out on the piazza. 

Elizabeth Eliza practiced in the mornings with her cloak on; but she wasobliged to give up her music in the evenings the family shivered so. 

One day, when she was talking with the lady from Philadelphia, she spokeof this trouble. 

The lady from Philadelphia looked surprised, and then said, "But whydon't you turn the piano round?"

One of the little boys pertly said, "It is a square piano. "

But Elizabeth Eliza went home directly, and, with the help of Agamemnonand Solomon John, turned the piano round. 

"Why did we not think of that before?" said Mrs. Peterkin. "What shallwe do when the lady from Philadelphia goes home again?"

THE PETERKINS TRY TO BECOME WISE. 

THEY were sitting round the breakfast-table, and wondering what theyshould do because the lady from Philadelphia had gone away. "If, " saidMrs. Peterkin, "we could only be more wise as a family!" How could theymanage it? Agamemnon had been to college, and the children all went toschool; but still as a family they were not wise. "It comes from books, "said one of the family. "People who have a great many books are verywise. " Then they counted up that there were very few books in thehouse, --a few school-books and Mrs. Peterkin's cook-book were all. 

"That's the thing!" said Agamemnon. "We want a library. "

"We want a library!" said Solomon John. And all of them exclaimed, "Wewant a library!"

"Let us think how we shall get one, " said Mrs. Peterkin. "I haveobserved that other people think a great deal of thinking. "

So they all sat and thought a great while. 

Then said Agamemnon, "I will make a library. There are some boards inthe wood-shed, and I have a hammer and some nails, and perhaps we canborrow some hinges, and there we have our library!"

They were all very much pleased at the idea. 

"That's the book-case part, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "but where are thebooks?"

So they sat and thought a little while, when Solomon John exclaimed, "Iwill make a book!"

They all looked at him in wonder. 

"Yes, " said Solomon John, "books will make us wise, but first I mustmake a book. "

So they went into the parlor, and sat down to make a book. But there wasno ink. 

What should he do for ink? Elizabeth Eliza said she had heard thatnutgalls and vinegar made very good ink. So they decided to make some. The little boys said they could find some nutgalls up in the woods. So they all agreed to set out and pick some. Mrs. Peterkins put on hercape-bonnet, and the little boys got into their india-rubber boots, andoff they went. 

The nutgalls were hard to find. There was almost everything else in thewoods, --chestnuts, and walnuts, and small hazel-nuts, and a great manysquirrels; and they had to walk a great way before they found anynutgalls. At last they came home with a large basket and two nutgallsin it. Then came the question of the vinegar. Mrs. Peterkin had used hervery last on some beets they had the day before. "Suppose we go andask the minister's wife, " said Elizabeth Eliza. So they all went tothe minister's wife. She said if they wanted some good vinegar they hadbetter set a barrel of cider down in the cellar, and in a year or twoit would make very nice vinegar. But they said they wanted it that veryafternoon. When the minister's wife heard this, she said she should bevery glad to let them have some vinegar, and gave them a cupful to carryhome. 

So they stirred in the nutgalls, and by the time evening came they hadvery good ink. 

Then Solomon John wanted a pen. Agamemnon had a steel one, but SolomonJohn said, "Poets always used quills. " Elizabeth Eliza suggested thatthey should go out to the poultry-yard and get a quill. But it wasalready dark. They had, however, two lanterns, and the littleboys borrowed the neighbors'. They set out in procession for thepoultry-yard. When they got there, the fowls were all at roost, so theycould look at them quietly. 

SOLOMON JOHN'S BOOK. 

But there were no geese! There were Shanghais and Cochin-Chinas, andGuinea hens, and Barbary hens, and speckled hens, and Poland roosters, and bantams, and ducks, and turkeys, but not one goose! "No geese butourselves, " said Mrs. Peterkin, wittily, as they returned to the house. The sight of this procession roused up the village. "A torchlightprocession!" cried all the boys of the town; and they gathered round thehouse, shouting for the flag; and Mr. Peterkin had to invite them in, and give them cider and gingerbread, before he could explain to themthat it was only his family visiting his hens. 

After the crowd had dispersed, Solomon John sat down to think of hiswriting again. Agamemnon agreed to go over to the bookstore to get aquill. They all went over with him. The bookseller was just shutting uphis shop. However, he agreed to go in and get a quill, which he did, andthey hurried home. 

So Solomon John sat down again, but there was no paper. And now thebookstore was shut up. Mr. Peterkin suggested that the mail was aboutin, and perhaps he should have a letter, and then they could use theenvelope to write upon. So they all went to the post-office, and thelittle boys had their india-rubber boots on, and they all shouted whenthey found Mr. Peterkin had a letter. The postmaster inquired whatthey were shouting about; and when they told him, he said he would giveSolomon John a whole sheet of paper for his book. And they all went backrejoicing. 

So Solomon John sat down, and the family all sat round the table lookingat him. He had his pen, his ink, and his paper. He dipped his pen intothe ink and held it over the paper, and thought a minute, and then said, "But I haven't got anything to say. "

MRS. PETERKIN WISHES TO GO TO DRIVE. 

ONE morning Mrs. Peterkin was feeling very tired, as she had beenhaving a great many things to think of, and she said to Mr. Peterkin, "Ibelieve I shall take a ride this morning!"

And the little boys cried out, "Oh, may we go too?"

Mrs. Peterkin said that Elizabeth Eliza and the little boys might go. 

So Mr. Peterkin had the horse put into the carryall, and he andAgamemnon went off to their business, and Solomon John to school; andMrs. Peterkin began to get ready for her ride. 

She had some currants she wanted to carry to old Mrs. Twomly, and somegooseberries for somebody else, and Elizabeth Eliza wanted to pick someflowers to take to the minister's wife, so it took them a long time toprepare. 

The little boys went out to pick the currants and the gooseberries, andElizabeth Eliza went out for her flowers, and Mrs. Peterkin put on hercape-bonnet, and in time they were all ready. The little boys were intheir india-rubber boots, and they got into the carriage. 

Elizabeth Eliza was to drive; so she sat on the front seat, and took upthe reins, and the horse started off merrily, and then suddenly stopped, and would not go any farther. 

Elizabeth Eliza shook the reins, and pulled them, and then she cluckedto the horse; and Mrs. Peterkin clucked; and the little boys whistledand shouted; but still the horse would not go. 

"We shall have to whip him, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

Now Mrs. Peterkin never liked to use the whip; but, as the horse wouldnot go, she said she would get out and turn her head the other way, while Elizabeth Eliza whipped the horse, and when he began to go shewould hurry and get in. 

So they tried this, but the horse would not stir. 

"Perhaps we have too heavy a load, " said Mrs. Peterkin, as she got in. 

So they took out the currants and the gooseberries and the flowers, butstill the horse would not go. 

One of the neighbors, from the opposite house, looking out just then, called out to them to try the whip. There was a high wind, and theycould not hear exactly what she said. 

"I have tried the whip, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"She says 'whips, ' such as you eat, " said one of the little boys. 

"We might make those, " said Mrs. Peterkin, thoughtfully. 

"We have got plenty of cream, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"Yes, let us have some whips, " cried the little boys, getting out. 

And the opposite neighbor cried out something about whips; and the windwas very high. 

So they went into the kitchen, and whipped up the cream, and made somevery delicious whips; and the little boys tasted all round, and they allthought they were very nice. 

They carried some out to the horse, who swallowed it down very quickly. 

"That is just what he wanted, " said Mrs. Peterkin; "now he willcertainly go!"

So they all got into the carriage again, and put in the currants and thegooseberries and the flowers; and Elizabeth Eliza shook the reins, andthey all clucked; but still the horse would not go!

"We must either give up our ride, " said Mrs. Peterkin, mournfully, "orelse send over to the lady from Philadelphia, and see what she willsay. "

The little boys jumped out as quickly as they could; they were eager togo and ask the lady from Philadelphia. Elizabeth Eliza went with them, while her mother took the reins. 

They found that the lady from Philadelphia was very ill that day, andwas in her bed. But when she was told what the trouble was, she verykindly said they might draw up the curtain from the window at the footof the bed, and open the blinds, and she would see. Then she asked forher opera-glass, and looked through it, across the way, up the street, to Mrs. Peterkin's door. 

After she had looked through the glass, she laid it down, leaned herhead back against the pillow, for she was very tired, and then said, "Why don't you unchain the horse from the horse-post?"

Elizabeth Eliza and the little boys looked at one another, and thenhurried back to the house and told their mother. The horse was untied, and they all went to ride. 

THE PETERKINS AT HOME. AT DINNER. 

ANOTHER little incident occurred in the Peterkin family. This was atdinner-time. 

They sat down to a dish of boiled ham. Now it was a peculiarity of thechildren of the family, that half of them liked fat, and half likedlean. Mr. Peterkin sat down to cut the ham. But the ham turned out tobe a very remarkable one. The fat and the lean came in separateslices, --first one of lean, than one of fat, then two slices of lean, and so on. Mr. Peterkin began as usual by helping the children first, according to their age. Now Agamemnon, who liked lean, got a fat slice;and Elizabeth Eliza, who preferred fat, had a lean slice. Solomon John, who could eat nothing but lean, was helped to fat, and so on. Nobody hadwhat he could eat. 

It was a rule of the Peterkin family, that no one should eat any of thevegetables without some of the meat; so now, although the children sawupon their plates apple-sauce and squash and tomato and sweet potato andsour potato, not one of them could eat a mouthful, because not one wassatisfied with the meat. Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin, however, liked both fatand lean, and were making a very good meal, when they looked up and sawthe children all sitting eating nothing, and looking dissatisfied intotheir plates. 

"What is the matter now?" said Mr. Peterkin. 

But the children were taught not to speak at table. Agamemnon, however, made a sign of disgust at his fat, and Elizabeth Eliza at her lean, andso on, and they presently discovered what was the difficulty. 

"What shall be done now?" said Mrs. Peterkin. 

They all sat and thought for a little while. 

At last said Mrs. Peterkin, rather uncertainly, "Suppose we ask the ladyfrom Philadelphia what is best to be done. "

But Mr. Peterkin said he didn't like to go to her for everything; letthe children try and eat their dinner as it was. 

And they all tried, but they couldn't. "Very well, then. " said Mr. Peterkin, "let them go and ask the lady from Philadelphia. "

"All of us?" cried one of the little boys, in the excitement of themoment. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "only put on your india-rubber boots. "And they hurried out of the house. 

The lady from Philadelphia was just going in to her dinner; but shekindly stopped in the entry to hear what the trouble was. Agamemnonand Elizabeth Eliza told her all the difficulty, and the lady fromPhiladelphia said, "But why don't you give the slices of fat to thosewho like the fat, and the slices of lean to those who like the lean?"

They looked at one another. Agamemnon looked at Elizabeth Eliza, andSolomon John looked at the little boys. "Why didn't we think of that?"said they, and ran home to tell their mother. 

WHY THE PETERKINS HAD A LATE DINNER. 

THE trouble was in the dumb-waiter. All had seated themselves at thedinner-table, and Amanda had gone to take out the dinner she had sent upfrom the kitchen on the dumb-waiter. But something was the matter; shecould not pull it up. There was the dinner, but she could not reachit. All the family, in turn, went and tried; all pulled together, invain; the dinner could not be stirred. 

"No dinner!" exclaimed Agamemnon. 

"I am quite hungry, " said Solomon John. 

At last Mr. Peterkin said, "I am not proud. I am willing to dine in thekitchen. "

This room was below the dining-room. All consented to this. Each onewent down, taking a napkin. 

The cook laid the kitchen table, put on it her best table-cloth, and thefamily sat down. Amanda went to the dumb-waiter for the dinner, but shecould not move it down. 

The family were all in dismay. There was the dinner, half-way betweenthe kitchen and dining-room, and there were they all hungry to eat it!

"What is there for dinner?" asked Mr. Peterkin. 

"Roast turkey, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

Mr. Peterkin lifted his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Squash, tomato, potato, and sweet potato, " Mrs. Peterkin continued. 

"Sweet potato!" exclaimed both the little boys. 

"I am very glad now that I did not have cranberry, " said Mrs. Peterkin, anxious to find a bright point. 

"Let us sit down and think about it, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"I have an idea, " said Agamemnon, after a while. 

"Let us hear it, " said Mr. Peterkin. "Let each one speak his mind. "

"The turkey, " said Agamemnon, "must be just above the kitchen door. If Ihad a ladder and an axe, I could cut away the plastering and reach it. "

"That is a great idea, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"If you think you could do it, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Would it not be better to have a carpenter?" asked Elizabeth Eliza. 

"A carpenter might have a ladder and an axe, and I think we haveneither, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"A carpenter! A carpenter!" exclaimed the rest. 

It was decided that Mr. Peterkin, Solomon John, and the little boysshould go in search of a carpenter. 

Agamemnon proposed that, meanwhile, he should go and borrow a book; forhe had another idea. 

"This affair of the turkey, " he said, "reminds me of those buried citiesthat have been dug out, --Herculaneum, for instance. "

"Oh, yes, " interrupted Elizabeth Eliza, "and Pompeii. "

"Yes, " said Agamemnon, "they found there pots and kettles. Now, I should like to know how they did it; and I mean to borrow a book andread. I think it was done with a pickaxe. "

So the party set out. But when Mr. Peterkin reached the carpenter'sshop, there was no carpenter to be found there. 

"He must be at his house, eating his dinner, " suggested Solomon John. 

"Happy man, " exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, "he has a dinner to eat!"

They went to the carpenter's house, but found he had gone out of townfor a day's job. But his wife told them that he always came back atnight to ring the nine-o'clock bell. 

"We must wait till then, " said Mr. Peterkin, with an effort atcheerfulness. 

At home he found Agamemnon reading his book, and all sat down to hear ofHerculaneum and Pompeii. 

Time passed on, and the question arose about tea. Would it do to havetea when they had had no dinner? A part of the family thought it wouldnot do; the rest wanted tea. 

"I suppose you remember the wise lady of Philadelphia, who was here notlong ago, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Oh, yes, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Let us try to think what she would advise us, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"I wish she were here, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"I think, " said Mr. Peterkin, "she would say, let them that want teahave it; the rest can go without. "

So they had tea, and, as it proved, all sat down to it. But not much waseaten, as there had been no dinner. 

When the nine-o'clock bell was heard, Agamemnon, Solomon John, and thelittle boys rushed to the church, and found the carpenter. 

They asked him to bring a ladder, axes and pickaxe. As he felt it mightbe a case of fire, he brought also his fire-buckets. 

When the matter was explained to him, he went into the dining-room, looked into the dumb-waiter, untwisted a cord, and arranged the weight, and pulled up the dinner. 

There was a family shout. 

"The trouble was in the weight, " said the carpenter. 

"That is why it is called a dumb-waiter, " Solomon John explained to thelittle boys. 

The dinner was put upon the table. 

Mrs. Peterkin frugally suggested that they might now keep it for thenext day, as to-day was almost gone, and they had had tea. 

But nobody listened. All sat down to the roast turkey; and Amanda warmedover the vegetables. 

"Patient waiters are no losers, " said Agamemnon. 

THE PETERKINS' SUMMER JOURNEY. 

IN fact, it was their last summer's journey--for it had been plannedthen; but there had been so many difficulties, it had been delayed. 

The first trouble had been about trunks. The family did not own a trunksuitable for travelling. 

Agamemnon had his valise, that he had used when he stayed a week at atime at the academy; and a trunk had been bought for Elizabeth Elizawhen she went to the seminary. Solomon John and Mr. Peterkin, eachhad his patent-leather hand-bag. But all these were too small for thefamily. And the little boys wanted to carry their kite. 

Mrs. Peterkin suggested her grandmother's trunk. This was a hair-trunk, very large and capacious. It would hold everything they would want tocarry, except what would go in Elizabeth Eliza's trunk, or the valiseand bags. 

Everybody was delighted at this idea. It was agreed that the next daythe things should be brought into Mrs. Peterkin's room, for her to seeif they could all be packed. 

"If we can get along, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "without having to askadvice, I shall be glad!"

"Yes, " said Mr. Peterkin, "It is time now for people to be coming to askadvice of us. "

The next morning Mrs. Peterkin began by taking out the things that werealready in the trunk. Here were last year's winter things, and notonly these, but old clothes that had been put away, --Mrs. Peterkin'swedding-dress; the skirts the little boys used to wear before they puton jackets and trousers. 

All day Mrs. Peterkin worked over the trunk, putting away the oldthings, putting in the new. She packed up all the clothes she couldthink of, both summer and winter ones, because you never can tell whatsort of weather you will have. 

Agamemnon fetched his books, and Solomon John his spy-glass. There wereher own and Elizabeth Eliza's best bonnets in a bandbox; also SolomonJohn's hats, for he had an old one and a new one. He bought a new hatfor fishing, with a very wide brim and deep crown; all of heavy straw. 

Agamemnon brought down a large heavy dictionary, and an atlas stilllarger. This contained maps of all the countries in the world. 

"I have never had a chance to look at them, " he said; "but when onetravels, then is the time to study geography. "

Mr. Peterkin wanted to take his turning-lathe. So Mrs. Peterkin packedhis tool-chest. It gave her some trouble, for it came to her just asshe had packed her summer dresses. At first she thought it would help tosmooth the dresses, and placed it on top; but she was forced to take allout, and set it at the bottom. This was not so much matter, as she hadnot yet the right dresses to put in. Both Mrs. Peterkin and ElizabethEliza would need new dresses for this occasion. The little boys' hoopswent in; so did their india-rubber boots, in case it should not rainwhen they started. They each had a hoe and shovel, and some baskets, that were packed. 

Mrs. Peterkin called in all the family on the evening of the second dayto see how she had succeeded. Everything was packed, even the littleboys' kite lay smoothly on the top. 

"I like to see a thing so nicely done, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

The next thing was to cord up the trunk, and Mr. Peterkin tried to moveit. But neither he, nor Agamemnon, nor Solomon John could lift it alone, or all together. 

Here was a serious difficulty. Solomon John tried to make light of it. 

"Expressmen could lift it. Expressmen were used to such things. "

"But we did not plan expressing it, " said Mrs. Peterkin, in adiscouraged tone. 

"We can take a carriage, " said Solomon John. 

"I am afraid the trunk would not go on the back of a carriage, "said Mrs. 

Peterkin. 

"The hackman could not lift it, either, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"People do travel with a great deal of baggage, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And with very large trunks, " said Agamemnon. 

"Still they are trunks that can be moved, " said Mr. Peterkin, givinganother try at the trunk in vain. "I am afraid we must give it up, " hesaid; "it would be such a trouble in going from place to place. "

"We would not mind if we got it to the place, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"But how to get it there?" Mr. Peterkin asked, with a sigh. 

"This is our first obstacle, " said Agamemnon; "we must do our best toconquer it. "

"What is an obstacle?" asked the little boys. 

"It is the trunk, " said Solomon John. 

"Suppose we look out the word in the dictionary, " said Agamemnon, taking the large volume from the trunk. "Ah, here it is--" And he read:--"OBSTACLE, an impediment. "

"That is a worse word than the other, " said one of the little boys. 

"But listen to this, " and Agamemnon continued: "Impediment is somethingthat entangles the feet; obstacle, something that stands in the way;obstruction, something that blocks up the passage; hinderance, somethingthat holds back. "

"The trunk is all these, " said Mr. Peterkin, gloomily. 

"It does not entangle the feet, " said Solomon John, "for it can't move. "

"I wish it could, " said the little boys together. 

Mrs. Peterkin spent a day or two in taking the things out of the trunkand putting them away. 

"At least, " she said, "this has given me some experience in packing. "

And the little boys felt as if they had quite been a journey. 

But the family did not like to give up their plan. It was suggested thatthey might take the things out of the trunk, and pack it at the station;the little boys could go and come with the things. But Elizabeth Elizathought the place too public. 

Gradually the old contents of the great trunk went back again to it. 

At length a friend unexpectedly offered to lend Mr. Peterkin agood-sized family trunk. But it was late in the season, and so thejourney was put off from that summer. 

But now the trunk was sent round to the house, and a family consultationwas held about packing it. Many things would have to be left at home, itwas so much smaller than the grandmother's hair-trunk. But Agamemnon hadbeen studying the atlas through the winter, and felt familiar with themore important places, so it would not be necessary to take it. And Mr. Peterkin decided to leave his turning-lathe at home, and his tool-chest. 

Again Mrs. Peterkin spent two days in accommodating the things. Withgreat care and discretion, and by borrowing two more leather bags, itcould be accomplished. Everything of importance could be packed, exceptthe little boys' kite. What should they do about that?

The little boys proposed carrying it in their hands; but Solomon Johnand Elizabeth Eliza would not consent to this. 

"I do think it is one of the cases where we might ask the advice of thelady from Philadelphia, " said Mrs. Peterkin, at last. 

"She has come on here, " said Agamemnon, "and we have not been to see herthis summer. "

"She may think we have been neglecting her, " suggested Mr. Peterkin. 

The little boys begged to be allowed to go and ask her opinion about thekite. 

They came back in high spirits. 

"She says we might leave this one at home, and make a new kite when weget there, " they cried. 

"What a sensible idea!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; "and I may have leisureto help you. "

"We'll take plenty of newspapers, " said Solomon John. 

"And twine, " said the little boys. And this matter was settled. 

The question then was, "When should they go?"

THE PETERKINS SNOWED-UP. 

MRS. PETERKIN awoke one morning to find a heavy snow-storm raging. Thewind had flung the snow against the windows, had heaped it up around thehouse, and thrown it into huge white drifts over the fields, coveringhedges and fences. 

Mrs. Peterkin went from one window to the other to look out; but nothingcould be seen but the driving storm and the deep white snow. Even Mr. Bromwick's house, on the opposite side of the street, was hidden by theswift-falling flakes. 

"What shall I do about it?" thought Mrs. Peterkin. "No roadscleared out! Of course there'll be no butcher and no milkman!"

The first thing to be done was to wake up all the family early; forthere was enough in the house for breakfast, and there was no knowingwhen they would have anything more to eat. 

It was best to secure the breakfast first. 

So she went from one room to the other, as soon as it was light, wakingthe family, and before long all were dressed and downstairs. 

And then all went round the house to see what had happened. 

All the water-pipes that there were were frozen. The milk was frozen. They could open the door into the wood-house; but the wood-house doorinto the yard was banked up with snow; and the front door, and thepiazza door, and the side door stuck. Nobody could get in or out!

Meanwhile, Amanda, the cook, had succeeded in making the kitchen fire, but had discovered there was no furnace coal. 

"The furnace coal was to have come to-day, " said Mrs. Peterkin, apologetically. 

"Nothing will come to-day, " said Mr. Peterkin, shivering. 

But a fire could be made in a stove in the dining-room. 

All were glad to sit down to breakfast and hot coffee. The little boyswere much pleased to have "ice-cream" for breakfast. 

"When we get a little warm, " said Mr. Peterkin, "we will consider whatis to be done. "

"I am thankful I ordered the sausages yesterday, " said Mrs. Peterkin. "Iwas to have had a leg of mutton to-day. "

"Nothing will come to-day, " said Agamemnon, gloomily. 

"Are these sausages the last meat in the house?" asked Mr. Peterkin. 

"Yes, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

The potatoes also were gone, the barrel of apples empty, and she hadmeant to order more flour that very day. 

"Then we are eating our last provisions, " said Solomon John, helpinghimself to another sausage. 

"I almost wish we had stayed in bed, " said Agamemnon. 

"I thought it best to make sure of our breakfast first, " repeated Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Shall we literally have nothing left to eat?" asked Mr. Peterkin. 

"There's the pig!" suggested Solomon John. 

Yes, happily, the pigsty was at the end of the wood-house, and could bereached under cover. 

But some of the family could not eat fresh pork. 

"We should have to 'corn' part of him, " said Agamemnon. 

"My butcher has always told me, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "that if I wanted aham I must keep a pig. Now we have the pig, but have not the ham!"

"Perhaps we could 'corn' one or two of his legs, " suggested one of thelittle boys. 

"We need not settle that now, " said Mr. Peterkin. "At least the pigwill keep us from starving. "

The little boys looked serious; they were fond of their pig. 

"If we had only decided to keep a cow, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Alas! yes, " said Mr. Peterkin, "one learns a great many things toolate!"

"Then we might have had ice-cream all the time!" exclaimed the littleboys. 

Indeed, the little boys, in spite of the prospect of starving, werequite pleasantly excited at the idea of being snowed-up, and hurriedthrough their breakfasts that they might go and try to shovel out a pathfrom one of the doors. 

"I ought to know more about the water-pipes, " said Mr. Peterkin. "Now, Ishut off the water last night in the bath-room, or else I forgot to; andI ought to have shut it off in the cellar. "

The little boys came back. Such a wind at the front door, they weregoing to try the side door. 

"Another thing I have learned to-day, " said Mr. Peterkin, "is not tohave all the doors on one side of the house, because the storm blows thesnow against all the doors. "

Solomon John started up. 

"Let us see if we are blocked up on the east side of the house!" heexclaimed. 

"Of what use, " asked Mr. Peterkin, "since we have no door on the eastside?"

"We could cut one, " said Solomon John. 

"Yes, we could cut a door, " exclaimed Agamemnon. 

"But how can we tell whether there is any snow there?" asked ElizabethEliza, --"for there is no window. "

In fact, the east side of the Peterkins' house formed a blank wall. Theowner had originally planned a little block of semi-detached houses. Hehad completed only one, very semi and very detached. 

"It is not necessary to see, " said Agamemnon, profoundly; "of course, if the storm blows against this side of the house, the house itself mustkeep the snow from the other side. "

"Yes, " said Solomon John, "there must be a space clear of snowon the east side of the house, and if we could open a way to that "--"Wecould open a way to the butcher, " said Mr. Peterkin, promptly. 

Agamemnon went for his pick-axe. He had kept one in the house ever sincethe adventure of the dumb-waiter. 

"What part of the wall had we better attack?" asked Mr. Peterkin. 

Mrs. Peterkin was alarmed. 

"What will Mr. Mudge, the owner of the house, think of it?" sheexclaimed. "Have we a right to injure the wall of the house?"

"It is right to preserve ourselves from starving, " said Mr. Peterkin. "The drowning man must snatch at a straw!"

"It is better that he should find his house chopped a little when thethaw comes, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "than that he should find us lyingabout the house, dead of hunger, upon the floor. "

Mrs. Peterkin was partially convinced. 

The little boys came in to warm their hands. They had not succeeded inopening the side door, and were planning trying to open the door fromthe wood-house to the garden. 

"That would be of no use, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "the butcher cannot getinto the garden. "

"But we might shovel off the snow, " suggested one of the littleboys, "and dig down to some of last year's onions. "

Meanwhile, Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, and Solomon John had been bringingtogether their carpenter's tools, and Elizabeth Eliza proposed using agouge, if they would choose the right spot to begin. 

The little boys were delighted with the plan, and hastened to find, --one, a little hatchet, and the other a gimlet. Even Amanda armed herself witha poker. 

"It would be better to begin on the ground floor, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Except that we may meet with a stone foundation, " said Solomon John. 

"If the wall is thinner upstairs, " said Agamemnon, "it will do as wellto cut a window as a door, and haul up anything the butcher may bringbelow in his cart. "

Everybody began to pound a little on the wall to find a favorableplace, and there was a great deal of noise. The little boys actually cuta bit out of the plastering with their hatchet and gimlet. Solomon Johnconfided to Elizabeth Eliza that it reminded him of stories of prisonerswho cut themselves free, through stone walls, after days and days ofsecret labor. 

Mrs. Peterkin, even, had come with a pair of tongs in her hand. She wasinterrupted by a voice behind her. 

"Here's your leg of mutton, marm!"

It was the butcher. How had he got in?

"Excuse me, marm, for coming in at the side door, but the back gateis kinder blocked up. You were making such a pounding I could not makeanybody hear me knock at the side door. "

"But how did you make a path to the door?" asked Mr. Peterkin. "You musthave been working at it a long time. It must be near noon now. "

"I'm about on regular time, " answered the butcher. "The townteam has cleared out the high road, and the wind has been down the lasthalf-hour. The storm is over. "

True enough! The Peterkins had been so busy inside the house they hadnot noticed the ceasing of the storm outside. 

"And we were all up an hour earlier than usual, " said Mr. Peterkin, when the butcher left. He had not explained to the butcher why he had apickaxe in his hand. 

"If we had lain abed till the usual time, " said Solomon John, "we shouldhave been all right. "

"For here is the milkman!" said Elizabeth Eliza, as a knock was nowheard at the side door. 

"It is a good thing to learn, " said Mr. Peterkin, "not to get up anyearlier than is necessary. "

THE PETERKINS DECIDE TO KEEP A COW. 

NOT that they were fond of drinking milk, nor that they drank very much. But for that reason Mr. Peterkin thought it would be well to have acow, to encourage the family to drink more, as he felt it would be sohealthy. 

Mrs. Peterkin recalled the troubles of the last cold winter, andhow near they came to starving, when they were shut up in a severesnow-storm, and the water-pipes burst, and the milk was frozen. Ifthe cow-shed could open out of the wood-shed, such trouble might beprevented. 

Tony Larkin was to come over and milk the cow every morning, andAgamemnon and Solomon John agreed to learn how to milk, in case Tonyshould be "snowed up, " or have the whooping-cough in the course of thewinter. The little boys thought they knew how already. 

But if they were to have three or four pailfuls of milk every day, itwas important to know where to keep it. 

"One way will be, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "to use a great deal every day. We will make butter. "

"That will be admirable, " thought Mr. Peterkin. 

"And custards, " suggested Solomon John. 

"And syllabub, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And cocoa-nut cakes, " exclaimed the little boys. 

"We don't need the milk for cocoa-nut cakes, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

The little boys thought they might have a cocoa-nut tree instead ofa cow. You could have the milk from the cocoa-nuts, and it would bepleasant climbing the tree, and you would not have to feed it. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Peterkin, "we shall have to feed the cow. "

"Where shall we pasture her?" asked Agamemnon. 

"Up on the hills, up on the hills, " exclaimed the little boys, "wherethere are a great many bars to take down, and huckleberry-bushes!"

Mr. Peterkin had been thinking of their own little lot behind the house. 

"But I don't know, " he said, "but the cow might eat off all the grass inone day, and there would not be any left for to-morrow, unless the grassgrew fast enough every night. "

Agamemnon said it would depend upon the season. In a rainy season thegrass would come up very fast, in a drought it might not grow at all. 

"I suppose, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "that is the worst of having acow, --there might be a drought. "

Mr. Peterkin thought they might make some calculation from the quantityof grass in the lot. 

Solomon John suggested that measurements might be made by seeing howmuch grass the Bromwicks' cow, opposite them, eat up in a day. 

The little boys agreed to go over and spend the day on the Bromwicks'fence, and take an observation. 

"The trouble would be, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "that cows walk about so, and the Bromwicks' yard is very large. Now she would be eating in oneplace, and then she would walk to another. She would not be eating allthe time, a part of the time she would be chewing. "

The little boys thought they should like nothing better than to havesome sticks, and keep the cow in one corner of the yard till thecalculations were made. 

But Elizabeth Eliza was afraid the Bromwicks would not like it. 

"Of course, it would bring all the boys in the school about the place, and very likely they would make the cow angry. "

Agamemnon recalled that Mr. Bromwick once wanted to hire Mr. Peterkin'slot for his cow. 

Mr. Peterkin started up. 

"That is true; and of course Mr. Bromwick must have known there was feedenough for one cow. "

"And the reason you didn't let him have it, " said Solomon John, "wasthat Elizabeth Eliza was afraid of cows. "

"I did not like the idea, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "of their cow'slooking at me over the top of the fence, perhaps, when I should beplanting the sweet peas in the garden. I hope our cow would be a quietone. I should not like her jumping over the fence into the flower-beds. "

Mr. Peterkin declared that he should buy a cow of the quietest kind. 

"I should think something might be done about covering her horns, " saidMrs. 

Peterkin; "that seems the most dangerous part. Perhaps they might bepadded with cotton. "

Elizabeth Eliza said cows were built so large and clumsy, that if theycame at you they could not help knocking you over. 

The little boys would prefer having the pasture a great way off. Halfthe fun of having a cow would be going up on the hills after her. 

Agamemnon thought the feed was not so good on the hills. 

"The cow would like it ever so much better, " the little boysdeclared, "on account of the variety. If she did not like the rocks andthe bushes, she could walk round and find the grassy places. "

"I am not sure, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "but it would be less dangerousto keep the cow in the lot behind the house, because she would not becoming and going, morning and night, in that jerky way the Larkins' cowscome home. They don't mind which gate they rush in at. I should hate tohave our cow dash into our front yard just as I was coming home of anafternoon. "

"That is true, " said Mr. Peterkin; "we can have the door of thecow-house open directly into the pasture, and save the coming andgoing. "

The little boys were quite disappointed. The cow would miss theexercise, and they would lose a great pleasure. 

Solomon John suggested that they might sit on the fence and watch thecow. 

It was decided to keep the cow in their own pasture; and as they were toput on an end kitchen, it would be perfectly easy to build a dairy. 

The cow proved a quiet one. She was a little excited when all the familystood round at the first milking, and watched her slowly walking intothe shed. 

Elizabeth Eliza had her scarlet sack dyed brown a fortnight before. Itwas the one she did her gardening in, and it might have infuriated thecow. And she kept out of the garden the first day or two. 

Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza bought the best kind of milk-pans, ofevery size. 

But there was a little disappointment about the taste of the milk. 

The little boys liked it, and drank large mugs of it. Elizabeth Elizasaid she could never learn to love milk warm from the cow, though shewould like to do her best to patronize the cow. 

Mrs. Peterkin was afraid Amanda did not under stand about taking careof the milk; yet she had been down to overlook her, and she was sure thepans and the closet were all clean. 

"Suppose we send a pitcher of cream over to the lady from Philadelphiato try, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "it will be a pretty attention before shegoes. "

"It might be awkward if she didn't like it, " said Solomon John. "Perhapssomething is the matter with the grass. "

"I gave the cow an apple to eat yesterday, " said one of the little boys, remorsefully. 

Elizabeth Eliza went over, and Mrs. Peterkin too, and explained all tothe lady from Philadelphia, asking her to taste the milk. 

The lady from Philadelphia tasted, and said the truth was that the milkwas sour!

"I was afraid it was so, " said Mrs. Peterkin; "but I didn't know what toexpect from these new kinds of cows. "

The lady from Philadelphia asked where the milk was kept. 

"In the new dairy, " answered Elizabeth Eliza. 

"Is that in a cool place?" asked the lady from Philadelphia. 

Elizabeth Eliza explained it was close by the new kitchen. 

"Is it near the chimney?" inquired the lady from Philadelphia. 

"It is directly back of the chimney and the new kitchen-range, " repliedElizabeth Eliza. "I suppose it is too hot!"

"Well, well!" said Mrs. Peterkin, "that is it! Last winter the milkfroze, and now we have gone to the other extreme! Where shall we put ourdairy?"

THE PETERKINS' CHRISTMAS-TREE. 

EARLY in the autumn the Peterkins began to prepare for theirChristmas-tree. 

Everything was done in great privacy, as it was to be a surprise to theneighbors, as well as to the rest of the family. Mr. Peterkin had beenup to Mr. 

Bromwick's wood-lot, and, with his consent, selected the tree. Agamemnonwent to look at it occasionally after dark, and Solomon John madefrequent visits to it mornings, just after sunrise. Mr. Peterkin droveElizabeth Eliza and her mother that way, and pointed furtively to itwith his whip; but none of them ever spoke of it aloud to each other. It was suspected that the little boys had been to see it Wednesdayand Saturday afternoons. But they came home with their pockets full ofchestnuts, and said nothing about it. 

At length Mr. Peterkin had it cut down and brought secretly into theLarkin's barn. A week or two before Christmas a measurement was made ofit with Elizabeth Eliza's yard-measure. To Mr. Peterkin's great dismayit was discovered that it was too high to stand in the back parlor. 

This fact was brought out at a secret council of Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin, Elizabeth Eliza, and Agamemnon. 

Agamemnon suggested that it might be set up slanting; but Mrs. Peterkinwas very sure it would make her dizzy, and the candles would drip. 

But a brilliant idea came to Mr. Peterkin. He proposed that the ceilingof the parlor should be raised to make room for the top of the tree. 

Elizabeth Eliza thought the space would need to be quite large. It mustnot be like a small box, or you could not see the tree. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Peterkin, "I should have the ceiling lifted all acrossthe room; the effect would be finer. "

Elizabeth Eliza objected to having the whole ceiling raised, becauseher room was over the back parlor, and she would have no floor while thealteration was going on, which would be very awkward. Besides, her roomwas not very high now, and, if the floor were raised, perhaps she couldnot walk in it upright. 

Mr. Peterkin explained that he didn't propose altering the wholeceiling, but to life up a ridge across the room at the back part wherethe tree was to stand. 

This would make a hump, to be sure, in Elizabeth Eliza's room; but itwould go across the whole room. 

Elizabeth Eliza said she would not mind that. It would be like the cuddything that comes up on the deck of a ship, that you sit against, onlyhere you would not have the sea-sickness. She thought she should likeit, for a rarity. She might use it for a divan. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought it would come in the worn place of the carpet, andmight be a convenience in making the carpet over. 

Agamemnon was afraid there would be trouble in keeping the mattersecret, for it would be a long piece of work for a carpenter; but Mr. Peterkin proposed having the carpenter for a day or two, for a number ofother jobs. 

One of them was to make all the chairs in the house of the same height, for Mrs. Peterkin had nearly broken her spine by sitting down in a chairthat she had supposed was her own rocking-chair, and it had proved tobe two inches lower. The little boys were now large enough to sit inany chair; so a medium was fixed upon to satisfy all the family, and thechairs were made uniformly of the same height. 

On consulting the carpenter, however, he insisted that the tree could becut off at the lower end to suit the height of the parlor, and demurredat so great a change as altering the ceiling. But Mr. Peterkin had sethis mind upon the improvement, and Elizabeth Eliza had cut her carpet inpreparation for it. 

So the folding-doors into the back parlor were closed, and for nearly afortnight before Christmas there was great litter of fallen plastering, and laths, and chips, and shavings; and Elizabeth Eliza's carpet wastaken up, and the furniture had to be changed, and one night she hadto sleep at the Bromwicks', for there was a long hole in her floor thatmight be dangerous. 

All this delighted the little boys. They could not understand what wasgoing on. 

Perhaps they suspected a Christmas-tree, but they did not know why aChristmas-tree should have so many chips, and were still more astonishedat the hump that appeared in Elizabeth Eliza's room. It must be aChristmas present, or else the tree in a box. 

Some aunts and uncles, too, arrived a day or two before Christmas, withsome small cousins. These cousins occupied the attention of the littleboys, and there was a great deal of whispering and mystery, behinddoors, and under the stairs, and in the corners of the entry. 

Solomon John was busy, privately making some candles for the tree. Hehad been collecting some bayberries, as he understood they made verynice candles, so that it would not be necessary to buy any. 

The elders of the family never all went into the back parlor together, and all tried not to see what was going on. Mrs. Peterkin would go inwith Solomon John, or Mr. Peterkin with Elizabeth Eliza, or ElizabethEliza and Agamemnon and Solomon John. The little boys and the smallcousins were never allowed even to look inside the room. 

Elizabeth Eliza meanwhile went into town a number of times. She wantedto consult Amanda as to how much ice-cream they should need, and whetherthey could make it at home, as they had cream and ice. She was prettybusy in her own room; the furniture had to be changed, and the carpetaltered. The "hump" was higher than she expected. There was dangerof bumping her own head whenever she crossed it. She had to nail somepadding on the ceiling for fear of accidents. 

The afternoon before Christmas, Elizabeth Eliza, Solomon John, and theirfather collected in the back parlor for a council. The carpenters haddone their work, and the tree stood at its full height at the back ofthe room, the top stretching up into the space arranged for it. All thechips and shavings were cleared away, and it stood on a neat box. 

But what were they to put upon the tree?

Solomon John had brought in his supply of candles; but they proved to bevery "stringy" and very few of them. It was strange how many bayberriesit took to make a few candles! The little boys had helped him, andhe had gathered as much as a bushel of bayberries. He had put them inwater, and skimmed off the wax, according to the directions; but therewas so little wax!

Solomon John had given the little boys some of the bits sawed off fromthe legs of the chairs. He had suggested that they should cover themwith gilt paper, to answer for gilt apples, without telling them whatthey were for. 

These apples, a little blunt at the end, and the candles were all theyhad for the tree!

After all her trips into town Elizabeth Eliza had forgotten to bringanything for it. 

"I thought of candies and sugar-plums, " she said; "but I concluded if wemade caramels ourselves we should not need them. But, then, we have notmade caramels. The fact is, that day my head was full of my carpet. Ihad bumped it pretty badly, too. "

Mr. Peterkin wished he had taken, instead of a fir-tree, an apple-treehe had seen in October, full of red fruit. 

"But the leaves would have fallen off by this time, " said ElizabethEliza. 

"And the apples, too, " said Solomon John. 

"It is odd I should have forgotten, that day I went in on purpose to getthe things, " said Elizabeth Eliza, musingly. "But I went from shopto shop, and didn't know exactly what to get. I saw a great many giltthings for Christmas-trees; but I knew the little boys were makingthe gilt apples; there were plenty of candles in the shops, but I knewSolomon John was making the candles. "

Mr. Peterkin thought it was quite natural. 

Solomon John wondered if it were too late for them to go into town now. 

Elizabeth Eliza could not go in the next morning, for there was to bea grand Christmas dinner, and Mr. Peterkin could not be spared, andSolomon John was sure he and Agamemnon would not know what to buy. Besides, they would want to try the candles to-night. 

Mr. Peterkin asked if the presents everybody had been preparing wouldnot answer. But Elizabeth Eliza knew they would be too heavy. 

A gloom came over the room. There was only a flickering gleam from oneof Solomon John's candles that he had lighted by way of trial. 

Solomon John again proposed going into town. He lighted a match toexamine the newspaper about the trains. There were plenty of trainscoming out at that hour, but none going in except a very late one. Thatwould not leave time to do anything and come back. 

"We could go in, Elizabeth Eliza and I, " said Solomon John, "but weshould not have time to buy anything. "

Agamemnon was summoned in. Mrs. Peterkin was entertaining the uncles andaunts in the front parlor. Agamemnon wished there was time to studyup something about electric lights. If they could only have a calciumlight! Solomon John's candle sputtered and went out. 

At this moment there was a loud knocking at the front door. Thelittle boys, and the small cousins, and the uncles and aunts, and Mrs. Peterkin, hastened to see what was the matter. 

The uncles and aunts thought somebody's house must be on fire. The doorwas opened, and there was a man, white with flakes, for it was beginningto snow, and he was pulling in a large box. 

Mrs. Peterkin supposed it contained some of Elizabeth Eliza's purchases, so she ordered it to be pushed into the back parlor, and hastily calledback her guests and the little boys into the other room. The little boysand the small cousins were sure they had seen Santa Claus himself. 

Mr. Peterkin lighted the gas. The box was addressed to Elizabeth Eliza. It was from the lady from Philadelphia! She had gathered a hint fromElizabeth Eliza's letters that there was to be a Christmas-tree, and hadfilled this box with all that would be needed. 

It was opened directly. There was every kind of gilt hanging-thing, fromgilt pea-pods to butterflies on springs. There were shining flags andlanterns, and birdcages, and nests with birds sitting on them, basketsof fruit, gilt apples and bunches of grapes, and, at the bottom of thewhole, a large box of candles and a box of Philadelphia bonbons!

Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon John could scarcely keep from screaming. Thelittle boys and the small cousins knocked on the folding-doors to askwhat was the matter. 

Hastily Mr. Peterkin and the rest took out the things and hung them onthe tree, and put on the candles. 

When all was done, it looked so well that Mr. Peterkin exclaimed:--"Letus light the candles now, and send to invite all the neighbors to-night, and have the tree on Christmas Eve!"

And so it was that the Peterkins had their Christmas-tree the daybefore, and on Christmas night could go and visit their neighbors. 

MRS. PETERKIN'S TEA-PARTY. 

TWAS important to have a tea-party, as they had all been invited byeverybody, --the Bromwicks, the Tremletts, and the Gibbonses. It would besuch a good chance to pay off some of their old debts, now that the ladyfrom Philadelphia was back again, and her two daughters, who would besure to make it all go off well. 

But as soon as they began to make out the list, they saw there were toomany to have at once, for there were but twelve cups and saucers in thebest set. 

"There are seven of us, to begin with, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"We need not all drink tea, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"I never do, " said Solomon John. The little boys never did. 

"And we could have coffee, too, " suggested Elizabeth Eliza. 

"That would take as many cups, " objected Agamemnon. 

"We could use the every-day set for the coffee, " answered ElizabethEliza; "they are the right shape. Besides, " she went on, "they would notall come. Mr. And Mrs. Bromwick, for instance; they never go out. "

"There are but six cups in the every-day set, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

The little boys said there were plenty of saucers; and Mr. Peterkinagreed with Elizabeth Eliza that all would not come. Old Mr. Jeffersnever went out. 

"There are three of the Tremletts, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "they nevergo out together. One of them, if not two, will be sure to have theheadache. Ann Maria Bromwick would come, and the three Gibbons boys, andtheir sister Juliana; but the other sisters are out West, and there isbut one Osborne. "

It really did seem safe to ask "everybody. " They would be sorry, afterit was over, that they had not asked more. 

"We have the cow, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "so there will be as much creamand milk as we shall need. "

"And our own pig, " said Agamemnon. "I am glad we had it salted; so wecan have plenty of sandwiches. "

"I will buy a chest of tea, " exclaimed Mr. Peterkin. "I have beenthinking of a chest for some time. "

Mrs. Peterkin thought a whole chest would not be needed: it was as wellto buy the tea and coffee by the pound. But Mr. Peterkin determined on achest of tea and a bag of coffee. 

So they decided to give the invitations to all. It might be a stormyevening and some would be prevented. 

The lady from Philadelphia and her daughters accepted. 

And it turned out a fair day, and more came than were expected. AnnMaria Bromwick had a friend staying with her, and brought her over, forthe Bromwicks were opposite neighbors. And the Tremletts had a niece, and Mary Osborne an aunt, that they took the liberty to bring. 

The little boys were at the door, to show in the guests, and as eachset came to the front gate, they ran back to tell their mother that morewere coming. 

Mrs. Peterkin had grown dizzy with counting those who had come, andtrying to calculate how many were to come, and wondering why there werealways more and never less, and whether the cups would go round. 

The three Tremletts all came, with their niece. They all had had theirheadaches the day before, and were having that banged feeling you alwayshave after a headache; so they all sat at the same side of the room onthe long sofa. 

All the Jefferses came, though they had sent uncertain answers. Old Mr. Jeffers had to be helped in, with his cane, by Mr. Peterkin. 

The Gibbons boys came, and would stand just outside the parlor door. And Juliana appeared afterward, with the two other sisters, unexpectedlyhome from the West. 

"Got home this morning!" they said. "And so glad to be in time tosee everybody, --a little tired, to be sure, after forty-eight hours in asleeping-car!"

"Forty-eight!" repeated Mrs. Peterkin; and wondered if there wereforty-eight people, and why they were all so glad to come, and whetherall could sit down. 

Old Mr. And Mrs. Bromwick came. They thought it would not be neighborlyto stay away. They insisted on getting into the most uncomfortableseats. 

Yet there seemed to be seats enough while the Gibbons boys preferred tostand. 

But they never could sit round a tea-table. Elizabeth Eliza had thoughtthey all might have room at the table, and Solomon John and the littleboys could help in the waiting. 

It was a great moment when the lady from Philadelphia arrived with herdaughters. Mr. Peterkin was talking to Mr. Bromwick, who was a littledeaf. The Gibbons boys retreated a little farther behind the parlordoor. Mrs. Peterkin hastened forward to shake hands with the lady fromPhiladelphia, saying:--"Four Gibbons girls and Mary Osborne's aunt, --thatmakes nineteen; and now"--It made no difference what she said; for therewas such a murmuring of talk that any words suited. And the lady fromPhiladelphia wanted to be introduced to the Bromwicks. 

It was delightful for the little boys. They came to Elizabeth Eliza, andasked:--

"Can't we go and ask more? Can't we fetch the Larkins?"

"Oh, dear, no!" answered Elizabeth Eliza. "I can't even count them. "

Mrs. Peterkin found time to meet Elizabeth Eliza in the side entry, toask if there were going to be cups enough. 

"I have set Agamemnon in the front entry to count, " said ElizabethEliza, putting her hand to her head. 

The little boys came to say that the Maberlys were coming. 

"The Maberlys!" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. "I never asked them. "

"It is your father's doing, " cried Mrs. Peterkin. "I do believe he askedeverybody he saw!" And she hurried back to her guests. 

"What if father really has asked everybody?" Elizabeth Eliza said toherself, pressing her head again with her hand. 

There were the cow and the pig. But if they all took tea or coffee, orboth, the cups could not go round. 

Agamemnon returned in the midst of her agony. 

He had not been able to count the guests, they moved about so, theytalked so; and it would not look well to appear to count. 

"What shall we do?" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. 

"We are not a family for an emergency, " said Agamemnon. 

"What do you suppose they did in Philadelphia at the Exhibition, whenthere were more people than cups and saucers?" asked Elizabeth Eliza. "Could not you go and inquire? I know the lady from Philadelphia istalking about the Exhibition, and telling how she stayed at home toreceive friends. And they must have had trouble there! Could not you goin and ask, just as if you wanted to know?"

Agamemnon looked into the room, but there were too many talking with thelady from Philadelphia. 

"If we could only look into some book, " he said, --"the encyclopaedia orthe dictionary, they are such a help sometimes!"

At this moment he thought of his "Great Triumphs of Great Men, " that hewas reading just now. He had not reached the lives of the Stephensons, or any of the men of modern times. He might skip over to them, --he knewthey were men for emergencies. 

He ran up to his room, and met Solomon John coming down with chairs. 

"That is a good thought, " said Agamemnon. "I will bring down moreupstairs chairs. "

"No, " said Solomon John; "here are all that can come down; the rest ofthe bedroom chairs match bureaus, and they never will do!"

Agamemnon kept on to his own room, to consult his books. If only hecould invent something on the spur of the moment, --a set of bedroomfurniture, that in an emergency could be turned into parlor chairs! Itseemed an idea; and he sat himself down to his table and pencils, when he was interrupted by the little boys, who came to tell him thatElizabeth Eliza wanted him. 

The little boys had been busy thinking. They proposed that thetea-table, with all the things on, should be pushed into the front room, where the company were; and those could take cups who could find cups. 

But Elizabeth Eliza feared it would not be safe to push so large atable; it might upset, and break what china they had. 

Agamemnon came down to find her pouring out tea, in the back room. Shecalled to him:--"Agamemnon, you must bring Mary Osborne to help, andperhaps one of the Gibbons boys would carry round some of the cups. "

And so she began to pour out and to send round the sandwiches, and thetea, and the coffee. Let things go as far as they would!

The little boys took the sugar and cream. 

"As soon as they have done drinking bring back the cups and saucers tobe washed, " she said to the Gibbons boys and the little boys. 

This was an idea of Mary Osborne's. 

But what was their surprise, that the more they poured out, the morecups they seemed to have! Elizabeth Eliza took the coffee, and MaryOsborne the tea. 

Amanda brought fresh cups from the kitchen. 

"I can't understand it, " Elizabeth Eliza said to Amanda. "Do they comeback to you, round through the piazza? Surely there are more cups thanthere were!"

Her surprise was greater when some of them proved to be coffee-cups thatmatched the set! And they never had had coffee-cups. 

Solomon John came in at this moment, breathless with triumph. 

"Solomon John!" Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed; "I cannot understand thecups!"

"It is my doing, " said Solomon John, with an elevated air. "I went tothe lady from Philadelphia, in the midst of her talk. 'What do you do inPhiladelphia, when you haven't enough cups?' 'Borrow of my neighbors, 'she answered, as quick as she could. "

"She must have guessed, " interrupted Elizabeth Eliza. 

"That may be, " said Solomon John. "But I whispered to Ann MariaBromwick, --she was standing by, --and she took me straight over intotheir closet, and old Mr. Bromwick bought this set just where we boughtours. And they had a coffee-set, too"--"You mean where our father andmother bought them. We were not born, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"It is all the same, " said Solomon John. "They match exactly. "

So they did, and more and more came in. 

Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed:

"And Agamemnon says we are not a family for emergencies!"

"Ann Maria was very good about it, " said Solomon John; "and quick, too. And old Mrs. Bromwick has kept all her set of two dozen coffee and teacups!"

Elizabeth Eliza was ready to faint with delight and relief. She told theGibbons boys, by mistake, instead of Agamemnon, and the little boys. Shealmost let fall the cups and saucers she took in her hand. 

"No trouble now!"

She thought of the cow, and she thought of the pig, and she poured on. 

No trouble, except about the chairs. She looked into the room; allseemed to be sitting down, even her mother. No, her father was standing, talking to Mr. 

Jeffers. But he was drinking coffee, and the Gibbons boys were handingthings around. 

The daughters of the lady from Philadelphia were sitting on shawls onthe edge of the window that opened upon the piazza. It was a soft, warmevening, and some of the young people were on the piazza. Everybody wastalking and laughing, except those who were listening. 

Mr. Peterkin broke away, to bring back his cup and another for morecoffee. 

"It's a great success, Elizabeth Eliza, " he whispered. "The coffee isadmirable, and plenty of cups. We asked none too many. I should not mindhaving a tea-party every week. "

Elizabeth Eliza sighed with relief as she filled his cup. It was goingoff well. 

There were cups enough, but she was not sure she could live over anothersuch hour of anxiety; and what was to be done after tea?

THE PETERKINS TOO LATE FOR THE EXHIBITION. 

Dramatis Personę. --Amanda (friend of Elizabeth Eliza), Amanda's mother, girls of the graduating class, Mrs. Peterkin, Elizabeth Eliza. AMANDA[coming in with a few graduates ]. 

MOTHER, the exhibition is over, and I have brought the whole class hometo the collation. 

MOTHER. --The whole class! I But I only expected a few. 

AMANDA. --The rest are coming. I brought Julie, and Clara, and Sophiewith me. [A voice is heard. ] Here are the rest. 

MOTHER. --Why, no. It is Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza!

AMANDA. --Too late for the exhibition. Such a shame! But in time for thecollation. 

MOTHER [to herself ]. --If the ice-cream will go round. 

AMANDA. --But what made you so late? Did you miss the train? This isElizabeth Eliza, girls--you have heard me speak of her. What a pity youwere too late!

MRS. PETERKIN. --We tried to come; we did our best. 

MOTHER. --Did you miss the train? Didn't you get my postal-card?

MRS. PETERKIN. --We had nothing to do with the train. 

AMANDA. --You don't mean you walked?

MRS. PETERKIN. --O no, indeed!

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --We came in a horse and carryall. 

JULIA. --I always wondered how anybody could come in a horse!

AMANDA. --You are too foolish, Julia. They came in the carryall part. Butdidn't you start in time?

MRS. PETERKIN. --It all comes from the carryall being so hard to turn. Itold Mr. 

Peterkin we should get into trouble with one of those carryalls thatdon't turn easy. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --They turn easy enough in the stable, so you can'ttell. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --Yes; we started with the little boys and Solomon John onthe back seat, and Elizabeth Eliza on the front. She was to drive, and Iwas to see to the driving. But the horse was not faced toward Boston. 

MOTHER. --And you tipped over in turning round! Oh, what an accident!

AMANDA. --And the little boys--where are they? Are they killed?

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --The little boys are all safe. We left them at thePringles', with Solomon John. 

MOTHER. --But what did happen?

MRS. PETERKIN. --We started the wrong way. 

MOTHER. --You lost your way, after all?

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --No; we knew the way well enough. 

AMANDA. --It's as plain as a pikestaff!

MRS. PETERKIN. --No; we had the horse faced in the wrongdirection, --toward Providence. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --And mother was afraid to have me turn, and we kept onand on till we should reach a wide place. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --I thought we should come to a road that would veer offto the right or left, and bring us back to the right direction. 

MOTHER. --Could not you all get out and turn the thing round?

MRS. PETERKIN. --Why, no; if it had broken down we should not have beenin anything, and could not have gone anywhere. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --Yes, I have always heard it was best to stay in thecarriage, whatever happens. 

JULIA. --But nothing seemed to happen. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --O yes; we met one man after another, and we asked theway to Boston. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --And all they would say was, "Turn right round--you areon the road to Providence. "

MRS. PETERKIN. --As if we could turn right round! That was just what wecouldn't. 

MOTHER. --You don't mean you kept on all the way to Providence?

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --O dear, no! We kept on and on, till we met a man witha black hand-bag--black leather I should say. 

JULIA. --He must have been a book-agent. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --I dare say he was; his bag seemed heavy. He set it on astone. 

MOTHER. --I dare say it was the same one that came here the other day. He wanted me to buy the "History of the Aborigines, Brought up fromEarliest Times to the Present Date, " in four volumes. I told him Ihadn't time to read so much. He said that was no matter, few did, and itwasn't much worth it--they bought books for the look of the thing. 

AMANDA. --Now, that was illiterate; he never could have graduated. Ihope, Elizabeth Eliza, you had nothing to do with that man. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --Very likely it was not the same one. 

MOTHER. --Did he have a kind of pepper-and-salt suit, with one of thebuttons worn?

MRS. PETERKIN. --I noticed one of the buttons was off. 

AMANDA. --We're off the subject. Did you buy his book?

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --He never offered us his book. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --He told us the same story, --we were going to Providence;if we wanted to go to Boston, we must turn directly round. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I told him I couldn't; but he took the horse's head, and the first thing I knew--AMANDA. --He had yanked you round!

MRS. PETERKIN. --I screamed; I couldn't help it!

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I was glad when it was over!

MOTHER. --Well, well; it shows the disadvantage of starting wrong. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --Yes, we came straight enough when the horse was headedright; but we lost time. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I am sorry enough I lost the exhibition, and seeingyou take the diploma, Amanda. I never got the diploma myself. I camenear it. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --Somehow, Elizabeth Eliza never succeeded. I think therewas partiality about the promotions. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I never was good about remembering things. I studiedwell enough, but, when I came to say off my lesson, I couldn't thinkwhat it was. Yet I could have answered some of the other girls'questions. 

JULIA. --It's odd how the other girls always have the easiest questions. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I never could remember poetry There was only one thingI could repeat. 

AMANDA. --Oh, do let us have it now; and then we'll recite to you some ofour exhibition pieces. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I'll try. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --Yes, Elizabeth Eliza, do what you can to help entertainAmanda's friends. 

[All stand looking at ELIZABETH ELIZA, who remains silent andthoughtful. ] ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I'm trying to think what it is about. You all know it. You remember, Amanda, --the name is rather long. 

AMANDA. --It can't be Nebuchadnezzar, can it?--that is one of the longestnames I know. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --O dear, no!

JULIA. --Perhaps it's Cleopatra. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --It does begin with a "C"--only he was a boy. 

AMANDA. --That's a pity, for it might be "We are seven, " only that is agirl. Some of them were boys. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --It begins about a boy--if I could only think where hewas. I can't remember. 

AMANDA. --Perhaps he "stood upon the burning deck?"

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --That's just it; I knew he stood somewhere. 

AMANDA. --Casablanca! Now begin--go ahead. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --"The boy stood on the burning deck, When--When--"I can't think who stood there with him. 

JULIA. --If the deck was burning, it must have been on fire. I guess therest ran away, or jumped into boats. 

AMANDA. --That's just it:--"Whence all but him had fled. "

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --I think I can say it now. 

 "The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled---"

[She hesitates. ] Then I think he went--

JULIA. --Of course, he fled after the rest. 

AMANDA. --Dear, no! That's the point. He didn't. 

 "The flames rolled on, he would not go Without his father's word. "

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --O yes. Now I can say it. 

 "The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flames rolled on, he would not go Without his father's word. "

But it used to rhyme. I don't know what has happened to it. 

MRS. PETERKIN. --Elizabeth Eliza is very particular about the rhymes. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA. --It must be "without his father's head, " or, perhaps, "without his father said" he should. 

JULIA. --I think you must have omitted something. 

AMANDA. --She has left out ever so much!

MOTHER. --Perhaps it's as well to omit some, for the ice-cream has come, and you must all come down. 

AMANDA. --And here are the rest of the girls; and let us all unite in asong!

[Exeunt omnes, singing. ]

THE PETERKINS CELEBRATE THE FOURTH OF JULY. 

THE day began early. A compact had been made with the little boys theevening before. 

They were to be allowed to usher in the glorious day by the blowing ofhorns exactly at sunrise. But they were to blow them for precisely fiveminutes only, and no sound of the horns should be heard afterward tillthe family were downstairs. 

It was thought that a peace might thus be bought by a short, thoughcrowded, period of noise. 

The morning came. Even before the morning, at half-past three o'clock, aterrible blast of the horns aroused the whole family. 

Mrs. Peterkin clasped her hands to her head and exclaimed: "I amthankful the lady from Philadelphia is not here!" For she had beeninvited to stay a week, but had declined to come before the Fourth ofJuly, as she was not well, and her doctor had prescribed quiet. 

And the number of the horns was most remarkable! It was as though everycow in the place had arisen and was blowing through both her own horns!

"How many little boys are there? How many have we?" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, going over their names one by one mechanically, thinking hewould do it, as he might count imaginary sheep jumping over a fence, toput himself to sleep. Alas!

the counting could not put him to sleep now, in such a din. 

And how unexpectedly long the five minutes seemed! Elizabeth Elizawas to take out her watch and give the signal for the end of the fiveminutes, and the ceasing of the horns. Why did not the signal come? Whydid not Elizabeth Eliza stop them?

And certainly it was long before sunrise; there was no dawn to be seen!

"We will not try this plan again, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"If we live to another Fourth, " added Mr. Peterkin, hastening to thedoor to inquire into the state of affairs. 

Alas! Amanda, by mistake, had waked up the little boys an hour tooearly. And by another mistake the little boys had invited three or fourof their friends to spend the night with them. Mrs. Peterkin had giventhem permission to have the boys for the whole day, and they understoodthe day as beginning when they went to bed the night before. Thisaccounted for the number of horns. 

It would have been impossible to hear any explanation; but the fiveminutes were over, and the horns had ceased, and there remained onlythe noise of a singular leaping of feet, explained perhaps by a possiblepillow-fight, that kept the family below partially awake until the bellsand cannon made known the dawning of the glorious day, --the sunrise, or"the rising of the sons, " as Mr. 

Peterkin jocosely called it when they heard the little boys and theirfriends clattering down the stairs to begin the outside festivities. 

They were bound first for the swamp, for Elizabeth Eliza, at thesuggestion of the lady from Philadelphia, had advised them to hang someflags around the pillars of the piazza. Now the little boys knew ofa place in the swamp where they had been in the habit of digging for"flag-root, " and where they might find plenty of flag flowers. They didbring away all they could, but they were a little out of bloom. Theboys were in the midst of nailing up all they had on the pillars of thepiazza when the procession of the Antiques and Horribles passed along. As the procession saw the festive arrangements on the piazza, and thecrowd of boys, who cheered them loudly, it stopped to salute the housewith some especial strains of greeting. 

Poor Mrs. Peterkin! They were directly under her windows! In a fewmoments of quiet, during the boys' absence from the house on theirvisit to the swamp, she had been trying to find out whether she hada sick-headache, or whether it was all the noise, and she was justdeciding it was the sick headache, but was falling into a light slumber, when the fresh noise outside began. 

There were the imitations of the crowing of cocks, and braying ofdonkeys, and the sound of horns, encored and increased by the cheers ofthe boys. Then began the torpedoes, and the Antiques and Horribles hadChinese crackers also. 

And, in despair of sleep, the family came down to breakfast. 

Mrs. Peterkin had always been much afraid of fire-works, and had neverallowed the boys to bring gunpowder into the house. She was even afraidof torpedoes; they looked so much like sugar-plums she was sure some thechildren would swallow them, and explode before anybody knew it. 

She was very timid about other things. She was not sure even aboutpea-nuts. 

Everybody exclaimed over this: "Surely there was no danger in pea-nuts!"But Mrs. Peterkin declared she had been very much alarmed at theCentennial Exhibition, and in the crowded corners of the streets inBoston, at the pea-nut stands, where they had machines to roast thepea-nuts. She did not think it was safe. They might go off any time, inthe midst of a crowd of people, too!

Mr. Peterkin thought there actually was no danger, and he should besorry to give up the pea-nut. He thought it an American institution, something really belonging to the Fourth of July. He even confessed toa quiet pleasure in crushing the empty shells with his feet on thesidewalks as he went along the streets. 

Agamemnon thought it a simple joy. 

In consideration, however, of the fact that they had had no realcelebration of the Fourth the last year, Mrs. Peterkin had consentedto give over the day, this year, to the amusement of the family asa Centennial celebration. She would prepare herself for a terriblenoise, --only she did not want any gunpowder brought into the house. 

The little boys had begun by firing some torpedoes a few daysbeforehand, that their mother might be used to the sound, and hadselected their horns some weeks before. 

Solomon John had been very busy in inventing some fireworks. As Mrs. Peterkin objected to the use of gunpowder, he found out from thedictionary what the different parts of gunpowder are, --saltpetre, charcoal, and sulphur. Charcoal, he discovered, they had in thewood-house; saltpetre they would find in the cellar, in the beef barrel;and sulphur they could buy at the apothecary's. He explained to hismother that these materials had never yet exploded in the house, and shewas quieted. 

Agamemnon, meanwhile, remembered a recipe he had read somewhere formaking a "fulminating paste" of iron-filings and powder of brimstone. Hehad written it down on a piece of paper in his pocket-book. But theiron filings must be finely powdered. This they began upon a day or twobefore, and the very afternoon before laid out some of the paste on thepiazza. 

Pin-wheels and rockets were contributed by Mr. Peterkin for the evening. 

According to a programme drawn up by Agamemnon and Solomon John, thereading of the Declaration of Independence was to take place in themorning, on the piazza, under the flags. 

The Bromwicks brought over their flag to hang over the door. 

"That is what the lady from Philadelphia meant, " explained ElizabethEliza. 

"She said the flags of our country, " said the little boys. "Wethought she meant 'in the country. '"

Quite a company assembled; but it seemed nobody had a copy of theDeclaration of Independence. 

Elizabeth Eliza said she could say one line, if they each could add asmuch. But it proved they all knew the same line that she did, as theybegan:--"When, in the course of--when, in the course of--when, in thecourse of human--when in the course of human events--when, in the courseof human events, it becomes--when, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary--when, in the course of human events it becomesnecessary for one people"--They could not get any farther. Some of theparty decided that "one people" was a good place to stop, and the littleboys sent off some fresh torpedoes in honor of the people. But Mr. Peterkin was not satisfied. He invited the assembled party to stay untilsunset, and meanwhile he would find a copy, and torpedoes were to besaved to be fired off at the close of every sentence. 

And now the noon bells rang and the noon bells ceased. 

Mrs. Peterkin wanted to ask everybody to dinner. She should havesome cold beef. She had let Amanda go, because it was the Fourth, andeverybody ought to be free that one day; so she could not have much of adinner. But when she went to cut her beef she found Solomon had taken itto soak, on account of the saltpetre, for the fireworks!

Well, they had a pig; so she took a ham, and the boys had boughttamarinds and buns and a cocoa-nut. So the company stayed on, and whenthe Antiques and Horribles passed again they were treated to pea-nutsand lemonade. 

They sung patriotic songs, they told stories, they fired torpedoes, theyfrightened the cats with them. It was a warm afternoon; the red poppieswere out wide, and the hot sun poured down on the alley-ways in thegarden. There was a seething sound of a hot day in the buzzing ofinsects, in the steaming heat that came up from the ground. Someneighboring boys were firing a toy cannon. Every time it went off Mrs. Peterkin started, and looked to see if one of the little boys was gone. Mr. Peterkin had set out to find a copy of the "Declaration. " Agamemnonhad disappeared. She had not a moment to decide about her headache. 

She asked Ann Maria if she were not anxious about the fireworks, and ifrockets were not dangerous. They went up, but you were never sure wherethey came down. 

And then came a fresh tumult! All the fire-engines in town rushed towardthem, clanging with bells, men and boys yelling! They were out for apractice and for a Fourth-of-July show. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought the house was on fire, and so did some of theguests. 

There was great rushing hither and thither. Some thought they wouldbetter go home; some thought they would better stay. Mrs. Peterkinhastened into the house to save herself, or see what she could save. Elizabeth Eliza followed her, first proceeding to collect all the pokersand tongs she could find, because they could be thrown out of the windowwithout breaking. She had read of people who had flung looking-glassesout of the window by mistake, in the excitement of the house being onfire, and had carried the pokers and tongs carefully into the garden. There was nothing like being prepared. She had always determined to dothe reverse. So with calmness she told Solomon John to take down thelooking-glasses. But she met with a difficulty, --there were no pokers andtongs, as they did not use them. They had no open fires; Mrs. Peterkinhad been afraid of them. So Elizabeth Eliza took all the pots andkettles up to the upper windows, ready to be thrown out. 

But where was Mrs. Peterkin? Solomon John found she had fled to theattic in terror. He persuaded her to come down, assuring her it was themost unsafe place; but she insisted upon stopping to collect some bagsof old pieces, that nobody would think of saving from the general wreck, she said, unless she did. Alas! this was the result of fireworks onFourth of July! As they came downstairs they heard the voices of all thecompany declaring there was no fire; the danger was past. It was longbefore Mrs. Peterkin could believe it. They told her the fire companywas only out for show, and to celebrate the Fourth of July. She thoughtit already too much celebrated. 

Elizabeth Eliza's kettles and pans had come down through the windowswith a crash, that had only added to the festivities, the little boysthought. 

Mr. Peterkin had been roaming about all this time in search of a copy ofthe Declaration of Independence. The public library was shut, and hehad to go from house to house; but now, as the sunset bells and cannonbegan, he returned with a copy, and read it, to the pealing of the bellsand sounding of the cannon. 

Torpedoes and crackers were fired at every pause. Some sweet-marjorampots, tin cans filled with crackers which were lighted, went off withgreat explosions. 

At the most exciting moment, near the close of the reading, Agamemnon, with an expression of terror, pulled Solomon John aside. 

"I have suddenly remembered where I read about the 'fulminating paste'we made. It was in the preface to 'Woodstock, ' and I have been round toborrow the book to read the directions over again, because I was afraidabout the 'paste' going off. READ THIS QUICKLY! and tell me, Where isthe fulminating paste?"

Solomon John was busy winding some covers of paper over a little parcel. It contained chlorate of potash and sulphur mixed. A friend had told himof the composition. The more thicknesses of paper you put round it thelouder it would go off. You must pound it with a hammer. Solomon Johnfelt it must be perfectly safe, as his mother had taken potash for amedicine. 

He still held the parcel as he read from Agamemnon's book: "This paste, when it has lain together about twenty-six hours, will of itself takefire, and burn all the sulphur away with a blue flame and a bad smell. "

"Where is the paste?" repeated Solomon John, in terror. 

"We made it just twenty-six hours ago, " said Agamemnon. 

"We put it on the piazza, " exclaimed Solomon John, rapidly recalling thefacts, "and it is in front of our mother's feet!"

He hastened to snatch the paste away before it should take fire, flinging aside the packet in his hurry. Agamemnon, jumping upon thepiazza at the same moment, trod upon the paper parcel, which exploded atonce with the shock, and he fell to the ground, while at the same momentthe paste "fulminated" into a blue flame directly in front of Mrs. Peterkin!

It was a moment of great confusion. There were cries and screams. Thebells were still ringing, the cannon firing, and Mr. Peterkin had justreached the closing words: "Our lives, our fortunes, and our sacredhonor. "

"We are all blown up, as I feared we should be, " Mrs. Peterkin atlength ventured to say, finding herself in a lilac-bush by the side ofthe piazza. She scarcely dared to open her eyes to see the scatteredlimbs about her. 

It was so with all. Even Ann Maria Bromwick clutched a pillar of thepiazza, with closed eyes. 

At length Mr. Peterkin said, calmly, "Is anybody killed?"

There was no reply. Nobody could tell whether it was because everybodywas killed, or because they were too wounded to answer. It was a greatwhile before Mrs. Peterkin ventured to move. 

But the little boys soon shouted with joy, and cheered the success ofSolomon John's fireworks, and hoped he had some more. One of them hadhis face blackened by an unexpected cracker, and Elizabeth Eliza'smuslin dress was burned here and there. But no one was hurt; no one hadlost any limbs, though Mrs. Peterkin was sure she had seen some flyingin the air. Nobody could understand how, as she had kept her eyes firmlyshut. 

No greater accident had occurred than the singeing of the tip of SolomonJohn's nose. But there was an unpleasant and terrible odor from the"fulminating paste. "

Mrs. Peterkin was extricated from the lilac-bush. No one knew how shegot there. 

Indeed, the thundering noise had stunned everybody. It had roused theneighborhood even more than before. Answering explosions came on everyside, and, though the sunset light had not faded away, the little boyshastened to send off rockets under cover of the confusion. SolomonJohn's other fireworks would not go. But all felt he had done enough. 

Mrs. Peterkin retreated into the parlor, deciding she really did have aheadache. At times she had to come out when a rocket went off, to seeif it was one of the little boys. She was exhausted by the adventures ofthe day, and almost thought it could not have been worse if the boyshad been allowed gunpowder. The distracted lady was thankful there waslikely to be but one Centennial Fourth in her lifetime, and declared sheshould never more keep anything in the house as dangerous as saltpetredbeef, and she should never venture to take another spoonful of potash. 

THE PETERKINS' PICNIC. 

THERE was some doubt about the weather. Solomon John looked at the"Probabilities;" there were to be "areas" of rain in the New EnglandStates. 

Agamemnon thought if they could only know where the areas of rain wereto be they might go to the others. Mr. Peterkin proposed walking roundthe house in a procession, to examine the sky. As they returned theymet Ann Maria Bromwick, who was to go, much surprised not to find themready. 

Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin were to go in the carryall, and take up the ladyfrom Philadelphia, and Ann Maria, with the rest, was to follow in awagon, and to stop for the daughters of the lady from Philadelphia. Thewagon arrived, and so Mr. Peterkin had the horse put into the carryall. 

A basket had been kept on the back piazza for some days, where anybodycould put anything that would be needed for the picnic as soon as it wasthought of. 

Agamemnon had already decided to take a thermometer; somebody was alwayscomplaining of being too hot or too cold at a picnic, and it would be agreat convenience to see if she really were so. He thought now he mighttake a barometer, as "Probabilities" was so uncertain. Then, if it wentdown in a threatening way, they could all come back. 

The little boys had tied their kites to the basket. They had never triedthem at home; it might be a good chance on the hills. Solomon Johnhad put in some fishing-poles; Elizabeth Eliza, a book of poetry. Mr. Peterkin did not like sitting on the ground, and proposed taking twochairs, one for himself and one for anybody else. The little boys wereperfectly happy; they jumped in and out of the wagon a dozen times, withnew india-rubber boots, bought for the occasion. 

Before they started, Mrs. Peterkin began to think she had already hadenough of the picnic, what with going and coming, and trying to rememberthings. So many mistakes were made. The things that were to go in thewagon were put in the carryall, and the things in the carryall had to betaken out for the wagon!

Elizabeth Eliza forgot her water-proof, and had to go back for her veil, and Mr. 

Peterkin came near forgetting his umbrella. 

Mrs. Peterkin sat on the piazza and tried to think. She felt as if shemust have forgotten something; she knew she must. Why could not shethink of it now, before it was too late? It seems hard any day to thinkwhat to have for dinner, but how much easier now it would be to stay athome quietly and order the dinner, --and there was the butcher's cart! Butnow they must think of everything. 

At last she was put into the carryall, and Mr. Peterkin in front todrive. 

Twice they started, and twice they found something was left behind, --theloaf of fresh brown bread on the back piazza, and a basket of sandwicheson the front porch. And just as the wagon was leaving, the little boysshrieked, "The basket of things was left behind!"

Everybody got out of the wagon. Agamemnon went back into the house, tosee if anything else were left. He looked into the closets; he shutthe front door, and was so busy that he forgot to get into the wagonhimself. It started off and went down the street without him!

He was wondering what he should do if he were left behind (why had theynot thought to arrange a telegraph wire to the back wheel of thewagon, so that he might have sent a message in such a case!), when theBromwicks drove out of their yard in their buggy, and took him in. 

They joined the rest of the party at Tatham Corners, where they wereall to meet and consult where they were to go. Mrs. Peterkin called toAgamemnon, as soon as he appeared. She had been holding the barometerand the thermometer, and they waggled so that it troubled her. It washard keeping the thermometer out of the sun, which would make it sowarm. It really took away her pleasure, holding the things. Agamemnondecided to get into the carryall, on the seat with his father, and takethe barometer and thermometer. 

The consultation went on. Should they go to Cherry Swamp, or LonetownHill? You had the view if you went to Lonetown Hill, but maybe the driveto Cherry Swamp was prettier. 

Somebody suggested asking the lady from Philadelphia, as the picnic wasgot up for her. 

But where was she?

"I declare, " said Mr. Peterkin, "I forgot to stop for her!" The wholepicnic there, and no lady from Philadelphia!

It seemed the horse had twitched his head in a threatening manner asthey passed the house, and Mr. Peterkin had forgotten to stop, and Mrs. Peterkin had been so busy managing the thermometers that she had notnoticed, and the wagon had followed on behind. 

Mrs. Peterkin was in despair. She knew they had forgotten something! Shedid not like to have Mr. Peterkin make a short turn, and it was gettinglate, and what would the lady from Philadelphia think of it, and hadthey not better give it all up?

But everybody said "No!" and Mr. Peterkin said he could make a wide turnround the Lovejoy barn. So they made the turn, and took up the lady fromPhiladelphia, and the wagon followed behind and took up their daughters, for there was a driver in the wagon besides Solomon John. 

Ann Maria Bromwick said it was so late by this time, they might as wellstop and have the picnic on the Common! But the question was put again, Where should they go?

The lady from Philadelphia decided for Strawberry Nook--it soundedinviting. 

There were no strawberries, and there was no nook, it was said, butthere was a good place to tie the horses. 

Mrs. Peterkin was feeling a little nervous, for she did not know whatthe lady from Philadelphia would think of their having forgotten her, and the more she tried to explain it, the worse it seemed to make it. She supposed they never did such things in Philadelphia; she knew theyhad invited all the world to a party, but she was sure she would neverwant to invite anybody again. There was no fun about it till it was allover. Such a mistake--to have a party for a person, and then go withouther; but she knew they would forget something! She wished they had notcalled it their picnic. 

There was another bother! Mr. Peterkin stopped. "Was anything broke?"exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. "Was something forgotten?" asked the lady fromPhiladelphia. 

No! But Mr. Peterkin didn't know the way; and here he was leading allthe party, and a long row of carriages following. 

They stopped, and it seemed nobody knew the way to Strawberry Nook, unless it was the Gibbons boys, who were far behind. They were madeto drive up, and said that Strawberry Nook was in quite a differentdirection, but they could bring the party round to it through themeadows. 

The lady from Philadelphia thought they might stop anywhere, such apleasant day, but Mr. Peterkin said they were started for StrawberryNook, and had better keep on, So they kept on. It proved to be anexcellent place, where they could tie the horses to a fence. Mrs. Peterkin did not like their all heading different ways; it seemed as ifany of them might come at her, and tear up the fence, especially as thelittle boys had their kites flapping round. The Tremletts insisted uponthe whole party going up the hill; it was too damp below. So the Gibbonsboys, and the little boys and Agamemnon, and Solomon John, and allthe party had to carry everything up to the rocks. The large basket of"things" was very heavy. 

It had been difficult to lift it into the wagon, and it was harder totake it out. But with the help of the driver, and Mr. Peterkin, and oldMr. Bromwick, it was got up the hill. 

And at last all was arranged. Mr. Peterkin was seated in his chair. Theother was offered to the lady from Philadelphia, but she preferred thecarriage cushions; so did old Mr. Bromwick. And the table-cloth wasspread, --for they did bring a table-cloth, --and the baskets were opened, and the picnic really began. 

The pickles had tumbled into the butter, and the spoons had beenforgotten, and the Tremletts' basket had been left on their frontdoor-step. But nobody seemed to mind. Everybody was hungry, andeverything they ate seemed of the best. The little boys were perfectlyhappy, and ate of all the kinds of cake. Two of the Tremletts wouldstand while they were eating, because they were afraid of the ants andthe spiders that seemed to be crawling round. And Elizabeth Eliza had tokeep poking with a fern leaf to drive the insects out of the plates. The lady from Philadelphia was made comfortable with the cushions andshawls, leaning against a rock. Mrs. Peterkin wondered if she forgot shehad been forgotten. 

John Osborne said it was time for conundrums, and asked: "Why is apastoral musical play better than the music we have here? Because one isa grasshopper, and the other is a grass-opera!"

Elizabeth Eliza said she knew a conundrum, a very funny one, one of herfriends in Boston had told her. It was, "Why is--" It began, "Why issomething like--no, Why are they different?" It was something about anold woman, or else it was something about a young one. It was veryfunny, if she could only think what it was about, or whether it wasalike or different. 

The lady from Philadelphia was proposing they should guess ElizabethEliza's conundrum, first the question, and then the answer, when oneof the Tremletts came running down the hill, and declared she had justdiscovered a very threatening cloud, and she was sure it was going torain down directly. 

Everybody started up, though no cloud was to be seen. 

There was a great looking for umbrellas and water-proofs. Then itappeared that Elizabeth Eliza had left hers, after all, though she hadgone back for it twice. 

Mr. Peterkin knew he had not forgotten his umbrella, because he had putthe whole umbrella-stand into the wagon, and it had been brought up thehill, but it proved to hold only the family canes!

There was a great cry for the "emergency basket, " that had not beenopened yet. 

Mrs. Peterkin explained how for days the family had been putting intoit what might be needed, as soon as anything was thought of. Everybodystopped to see its contents. It was carefully covered with newspapers. First came out a backgammon-board. "That would be useful, " said AnnMaria, "if we have to spend the afternoon in anybody's barn. " Next, apair of andirons. "What were they for?" "In case of needing a firein the woods, " explained Solomon John. Then came a volume of theEncyclopędia. But it was the first volume, Agamemnon now regretted, andcontained only A and a part of B, and nothing about rain or showers. Next, a bag of pea-nuts, put in by the little boys, and ElizabethEliza's book of poetry, and a change of boots for Mr. Peterkin; a smallfoot-rug in case the ground should be damp; some paint-boxes of thelittle boys'; a box of fish-hooks for Solomon John; an ink-bottle, carefully done up in a great deal of newspaper, which was fortunate, asthe ink was oozing out; some old magazines, and a blacking-bottle;and at the bottom, a sun-dial. It was all very entertaining, and thereseemed to be something for every occasion but the present. OldMr. Bromwick did not wonder the basket was so heavy. It was all sointeresting that nobody but the Tremletts went down to the carriages. 

The sun was shining brighter than ever, and Ann Maria insisted onsetting up the sun-dial. Certainly there was no danger of a shower, andthey might as well go on with the picnic. But when Solomon John and AnnMaria had arranged the sun-dial, they asked everybody to look at theirwatches, so that they might see if it was right. And then came a greatexclamation at the hour: "It was time they were all going home!"

The lady from Philadelphia had been wrapping her shawl about her, as shefelt the sun was low. But nobody had any idea it was so late! Well, theyhad left late, and went back a great many times, had stopped sometimesto consult, and had been long on the road, and it had taken a long timeto fetch up the things, so it was no wonder it was time to go away. Butit had been a delightful picnic, after all. 

THE PETERKINS' CHARADES. 

EVER since the picnic the Peterkins had been wanting to have "something"at their house in the way of entertainment. The little boys wanted toget up a "great Exposition, " to show to the people of the place. But Mr. Peterkin thought it too great an effort to send to foreign countries for"exhibits, " and it was given up. 

There was, however, a new water-trough needed on the town common, and the ladies of the place thought it ought to be somethinghandsome, --something more than a common trough, --and they ought to workfor it. 

Elizabeth Eliza had heard at Philadelphia how much women had done, andshe felt they ought to contribute to such a cause. She had an idea, butshe would not speak of it at first, not until after she had written tothe lady from Philadelphia. She had often thought, in many cases, ifthey had asked her advice first, they might have saved trouble. 

Still, how could they ask advice before they themselves knew what theywanted?

It was very easy to ask advice, but you must first know what to askabout. And again: Elizabeth Eliza felt you might have ideas, butyou could not always put them together. There was this idea of thewater-trough, and then this idea of getting some money for it. Soshe began with writing to the lady from Philadelphia. The little boysbelieved she spent enough for it in postage-stamps before it all cameout. 

But it did come out at last that the Peterkins were to havesome charades at their own house for the benefit of the neededwater-trough, --tickets sold only to especial friends. Ann Maria Bromwickwas to help act, because she could bring some old bonnets and gowns thathad been worn by an aged aunt years ago, and which they had always kept. Elizabeth Eliza said that Solomon John would have to be a Turk, and theymust borrow all the red things and cashmere scarfs in the place. Sheknew people would be willing to lend things. 

Agamemnon thought you ought to get in something about the Hindoos, theywere such an odd people. Elizabeth Eliza said you must not have it tooodd, or people would not understand it, and she did not want anything tofrighten her mother. 

She had one word suggested by the lady from Philadelphia in herletters, --the one that had "Turk" in it, --but they ought to have two words"Oh, yes, " Ann Maria said, "you must have two words; if the people paidfor their tickets they would want to get their money's worth. "

Solomon John thought you might have "Hindoos"; the little boys couldcolor their faces brown, to look like Hindoos. You could have the firstscene an Irishman catching a hen, and then paying the water-taxes for"dues, " and then have the little boys for Hindoos. 

A great many other words were talked of, but nothing seemed to suit. There was a curtain, too, to be thought of, because the folding-doorsstuck when you tried to open and shut them. Agamemnon said that thePan-Elocutionists had a curtain they would probably lend John Osborne, and so it was decided to ask John Osborne to help. 

If they had a curtain they ought to have a stage. Solomon John said hewas sure he had boards and nails enough, and it would be easy to make astage if John Osborne would help put it up. 

All this talk was the day before the charades. In the midst of it AnnMaria went over for her old bonnets and dresses and umbrellas, and theyspent the evening in trying on the various things, --such odd caps andremarkable bonnets! Solomon John said they ought to have plenty ofbandboxes; if you only had bandboxes enough a charade was sure to go offwell; he had seen charades in Boston. Mrs. 

Peterkin said there were plenty in their attic, and the little boysbrought down piles of them, and the back parlor was filled withcostumes. 

Ann Maria said she could bring over more things if she only knew whatthey were going to act. Elizabeth Eliza told her to bring anything shehad, --it would all come of use. 

The morning came, and the boards were collected for the stage. Agamemnonand Solomon John gave themselves to the work, and John Osborne helpedzealously. He said the Pan-Elocutionists would lend a scene also. Therewas a great clatter of bandboxes, and piles of shawls in corners, andsuch a piece of work in getting up the curtain! In the midst of it camein the little boys, shouting, "All the tickets are sold, at ten centseach!"

"Seventy tickets sold!" exclaimed Agamemnon. 

"Seven dollars for the water-trough!" said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And we do not know yet what we are going to act!" exclaimed Ann Maria. 

But everybody's attention had to be given to the scene that was goingup in the background, borrowed from the Pan-Elocutionists. It wasmagnificent, and represented a forest. 

"Where are we going to put seventy people?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, venturing, dismayed, into the heaps of shavings, and boards, and litter. 

The little boys exclaimed that a large part of the audience consistedof boys, who would not take up much room. But how much clearing andsweeping and moving of chairs was necessary before all could be madeready! It was late, and some of the people had already come to securegood seats, even before the actors had assembled. 

"What are we going to act?" asked Ann Maria. 

"I have been so torn with one thing and another, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "I haven't had time to think!"

"Haven't you the word yet?" asked John Osborne, for the audience wasflocking in, and the seats were filling up rapidly. 

"I have got one word in my pocket, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "in the letterfrom the lady from Philadelphia. She sent me the parts of the word. Solomon John is to be a Turk, but I don't yet understand the whole ofthe word. "

"You don't know the word, and the people are all here!" said JohnOsborne, impatiently. 

"Elizabeth Eliza!" exclaimed Ann Maria, "Solomon John says I'm to be aTurkish slave, and I'll have to wear a veil. Do you know where the veilsare? You know I brought them over last night. "

"Elizabeth Eliza! Solomon John wants you to send him the large cashmerescarf!" exclaimed one of the little boys, coming in. 

"Elizabeth Eliza! you must tell us what kind of faces to make up!" criedanother of the boys. 

And the audience were heard meanwhile taking the seats on the other sideof the thin curtain. 

"You sit in front, Mrs. Bromwick; you are a little hard of hearing; sitwhere you can hear. "

"And let Julia Fitch come where she can see, " said another voice. 

"And we have not any words for them to hear or see!" exclaimed JohnOsborne, behind the curtain. 

"Oh, I wish we'd never determined to have charades! exclaimed ElizabethEliza. 

"Can't we return the money?"

"They are all here; we must give them something!" said John Osborne, heroically. 

"And Solomon John is almost dressed, " reported Ann Maria, winding a veil around her head. 

"Why don't we take Solomon John's word 'Hindoos' for the first?" saidAgamemnon. 

John Osborne agreed to go in the first, hunting the "hin, " or anything, and one of the little boys took the part of the hen, with the help of afeather duster. 

The bell rang, and the first scene began. 

It was a great success. John Osborne's Irish was perfect. Nobody guessedthe word, for the hen crowed by mistake; but it received great applause. 

Mr. Peterkin came on in the second scene to receive the water-rates, andmade a long speech on taxation. He was interrupted by Ann Maria as anold woman in a huge bonnet. She persisted in turning her back to theaudience, speaking so low nobody heard her; and Elizabeth Eliza, whoappeared in a more remarkable bonnet, was so alarmed she went directlyback, saying she had forgotten something But this was supposed to be theeffect intended, and it was loudly cheered. 

Then came a long delay, for the little boys brought out a number oftheir friends to be browned for Hindoos. Ann Maria played on the pianotill the scene was ready. The curtain rose upon five brown boys done upin blankets and turbans. 

"I am thankful that is over, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "for now we can actmy word. Only I don't myself know the whole. "

"Never mind, let us act it, " said John Osborne, "and the audience canguess the whole. "

"The first syllable must be the letter P, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "and wemust have a school. "

Agamemnon was master, and the little boys and their friends went on asscholars. 

All the boys talked and shouted at once, acting their idea of a schoolby flinging pea-nuts about, and scoffing at the master. 

"They'll guess that to be 'row, '" said John Osborne in despair; "they'llnever guess 'P'!"

The next scene was gorgeous. Solomon John, as a Turk, reclined on JohnOsborne's army-blanket. He had on a turban, and a long beard, and allthe family shawls. Ann Maria and Elizabeth Eliza were brought in to him, veiled, by the little boys in their Hindoo costumes. 

This was considered the great scene of the evening, though ElizabethEliza was sure she did not know what to do, --whether to kneel or sitdown; she did not know whether Turkish women did sit down, and she couldnot help laughing whenever she looked at Solomon John. He, however, kept his solemnity. "I suppose I need not say much, " he had said, "for Ishall be the 'Turk who was dreaming of the hour. '" But he did orderthe little boys to bring sherbet, and when they brought it without iceinsisted they must have their heads cut off, and Ann Maria fainted, andthe scene closed. 

"What are we to do now?" asked John Osborne, warming up to the occasion. 

"We must have an 'inn' scene, " said Elizabeth Eliza, consulting herletter; "two inns, if we can. "

"We will have some travellers disgusted with one inn, and goingto another, " said John Osborne. 

"Now is the time for the bandboxes, " said Solomon John, who, sincehis Turk scene was over, could give his attention to the rest of thecharade. 

Elizabeth Eliza and Ann Maria went on as rival hostesses, trying to drawSolomon John, Agamemnon, and John Osborne into their several inns. The little boys carried valises, hand-bags, umbrellas, and bandboxes. Bandbox after bandbox appeared, and when Agamemnon sat down upon his theapplause was immense. At last the curtain fell. 

"Now for the whole, " said John Osborne, as he made his way off the stageover a heap of umbrellas. 

"I can't think why the lady from Philadelphia did not send me thewhole, " said Elizabeth Eliza, musing over the letter. 

"Listen, they are guessing, " said John Osborne. "'D-ice-box. ' I don'twonder they get it wrong. "

"But we know it can't be that!" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza, in agony. "How can we act the whole if we don't know it ourselves?"

"Oh, I see it!" said Ann Maria, clapping her hands. "Get your wholefamily in for the last scene. "

Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin were summoned to the stage, and formed thebackground, standing on stools; in front were Agamemnon and SolomonJohn, leaving room for Elizabeth Eliza between; a little in advance, and in front of all, half kneeling, were the little boys, in theirindia-rubber boots. 

The audience rose to an exclamation of delight, "The Peterkins!""P-Turk-Inns!"

It was not until this moment that Elizabeth Eliza guessed the whole. 

"What a tableau!" exclaimed Mr. Bromwick; "the Peterkin family guessingtheir own charade. "

THE PETERKINS ARE OBLIGED TO MOVE. 

AGAMEMNON had long felt it an impropriety to live in a house that wascalled a "semi-detached" house, when there was no other "semi" to it. It had always remained wholly detached, as the owner had never built theother half. Mrs. 

Peterkin felt this was not a sufficient reason for undertaking theterrible process of a move to another house, when they were fullysatisfied with the one they were in. 

But a more powerful reason forced them to go. The track of a newrailroad had to be carried directly through the place, and a station wasto be built on that very spot. 

Mrs. Peterkin so much dreaded moving that she questioned whether theycould not continue to live in the upper part of the house and give upthe lower part to the station. They could then dine at the restaurant, and it would be very convenient about travelling, as there would be nodanger of missing the train, if one were sure of the direction. 

But when the track was actually laid by the side of the house, and thesteam-engine of the construction train puffed and screamed under thedining-room windows, and the engineer calmly looked in to see what thefamily had for dinner, she felt, indeed, that they must move. 

But where should they go? It was difficult to find a house thatsatisfied the whole family. One was too far off, and looked into atan-pit; another was too much in the middle of the town, next door toa machine-shop. Elizabeth Eliza wanted a porch covered with vines, thatshould face the sunset; while Mr. 

Peterkin thought it would not be convenient to sit there looking towardsthe west in the late afternoon (which was his only leisure time), forthe sun would shine in his face. The little boys wanted a house witha great many doors, so that they could go in and out often. But Mr. Peterkin did not like so much slamming, and felt there was more dangerof burglars with so many doors. 

Agamemnon wanted an observatory, and Solomon John a shed for a workshop. If he could have carpenters' tools and a workbench he could build anobservatory, if it were wanted. 

But it was necessary to decide upon something, for they must leavetheir house directly. So they were obliged to take Mr. Finch's, at theCorners. It satisfied none of the family. The porch was a piazza, andwas opposite a barn. There were three other doors, --too many toplease Mr. Peterkin, and not enough for the little boys. There was noobservatory, and nothing to observe if there were one, as the house wastoo low and some high trees shut out any view. Elizabeth Eliza hadhoped for a view; but Mr. Peterkin con soled her by deciding it was morehealthy to have to walk for a view, and Mrs. Peterkin agreed that theymight get tired of the same every day. 

And everybody was glad a selection was made, and the little boys carriedtheir india-rubber boots the very first afternoon. 

Elizabeth Eliza wanted to have some system in the moving, and spent theevening in drawing up a plan. It would be easy to arrange everythingbeforehand, so that there should not be the confusion that her motherdreaded, and the discomfort they had in their last move. Mrs. Peterkinshook her head; she did not think it possible to move with any comfort. Agamemnon said a great deal could be done with a list and a programme. 

Elizabeth Eliza declared if all were well arranged a programme wouldmake it perfectly easy. They were to have new parlor carpets, whichcould be put down in the new house the first thing. Then the parlorfurniture could be moved in, and there would be two comfortable rooms, in which Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin could sit while the rest of the movewent on. Then the old parlor carpets could be taken up for the newdining-room and the downstairs bedroom, and the family could meanwhiledine at the old house. Mr. Peterkin did not object to this, though thedistance was considerable, as he felt exercise would be good for themall. 

Elizabeth Eliza's programme then arranged that the dining-room furnitureshould be moved the third day, by which time one of the old parlorcarpets would be down in the new dining-room, and they could still sleepin the old house. Thus there would always be a quiet, comfortable placein one house or the other. Each night, when Mr. Peterkin came home, hewould find some place for quiet thought and rest, and each day thereshould be moved only the furniture needed for a certain room. Greatconfusion would be avoided and nothing misplaced. Elizabeth Eliza wrotethese last words at the head of her programme, --"Misplace nothing. "

And Agamemnon made a copy of the programme for each member of thefamily. 

THE PETERKINS ARE MOVED. --Page 126. The first thing to be done was tobuy the parlor carpets. Elizabeth Eliza had already looked at somein Boston, and the next morning she went, by an early train, with herfather, Agamemnon, and Solomon John, to decide upon them. 

They got home about eleven o'clock, and when they reached the housewere dismayed to find two furniture wagons in front of the gate, alreadypartly filled! Mrs. Peterkin was walking in and out of the open door, alarge book in one hand, and a duster in the other, and she came to meetthem in an agony of anxiety. What should they do? The furniture cartshad appeared soon after the rest had left for Boston, and the menhad insisted upon beginning to move the things. In vain had she shownElizabeth Eliza's programme; in vain had she insisted they must takeonly the parlor furniture. They had declared they must put the heavypieces in the bottom of the cart, and the lighter furniture on top. Soshe had seen them go into every room in the house, and select one pieceof furniture after another, without even looking at Elizabeth Eliza'sprogramme; she doubted if they could have read it if they had looked atit. 

Mr. Peterkin had ordered the carters to come; but he had no idea theywould come so early, and supposed it would take them a long time to fillthe carts. 

But they had taken the dining-room sideboard first, --a heavy piece offurniture, --and all its contents were now on the dining-room tables. Then, indeed, they selected the parlor book-case, but had set every bookon the floor The men had told Mrs. Peterkin they would put the books inthe bottom of the cart, very much in the order they were taken from theshelves. But by this time Mrs. Peterkin was considering the carters asnatural enemies, and dared not trust them; besides, the books ought allto be dusted. So she was now holding one of the volumes of Agamemnon'sEncyclopędia, with difficulty, in one hand, while she was dusting itwith the other. Elizabeth Eliza was in dismay. At this moment four menwere bringing down a large chest of drawers from her father's room, andthey called to her to stand out of the way. The parlors were a scene ofconfusion. In dusting the books Mrs. Peterkin neglected to restore themto the careful rows in which they were left by the men, and they lay inhopeless masses in different parts of the room. Elizabeth Eliza sunk indespair upon the end of a sofa. 

"It would have been better to buy the red and blue carpet, " said SolomonJohn. 

"Is not the carpet bought?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. And then they wereobliged to confess they had been unable to decide upon one, and had comeback to consult Mrs. Peterkin. 

"What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Peterkin. 

Elizabeth Eliza rose from the sofa and went to the door, saying, "Ishall be back in a moment. "

Agamemnon slowly passed round the room, collecting the scattered volumesof his Encyclopędia. Mr. Peterkin offered a helping hand to a manlifting a wardrobe. 

Elizabeth Eliza soon returned. "I did not like to go and ask her. ButI felt that I must in such an emergency. I explained to her the wholematter, and she thinks we should take the carpet at Makillan's. "

"Makillan's" was a store in the village, and the carpet was the only oneall the family had liked without any doubt; but they had supposed theymight prefer one from Boston. 

The moment was a critical one. Solomon John was sent directly toMakillan's to order the carpet to be put down that very day. But whereshould they dine? where should they have their supper? and where was Mr. Peterkin's "quiet hour"?

Elizabeth Eliza was frantic; the dining-room floor and table werecovered with things. 

It was decided that Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin should dine at the Bromwicks, who had been most neighborly in their offers, and the rest should getsomething to eat at the baker's. 

Agamemnon and Elizabeth Eliza hastened away to be ready to receive thecarts at the other house, and direct the furniture as they could. Afterall there was something exhilarating in this opening of the new house, and in deciding where things should go. Gayly Elizabeth Eliza steppeddown the front garden of the new home, and across the piazza, and to thedoor. But it was locked, and she had no keys!

"Agamemnon, did you bring the keys?" she exclaimed. 

No, he had not seen them since the morning, --when--ah!--yes, the littleboys were allowed to go to the house for their india-rubber boots, as there was a threatening of rain. Perhaps they had left some doorunfastened--perhaps they had put the keys under the door-mat. No, eachdoor, each window, was solidly closed, and there was no mat!

"I shall have to go to the school to see if they took the keys withthem, " said Agamemnon; "or else go home to see if they left them there. "The school was in a different direction from the house, and far at theother end of the town; for Mr. Peterkin had not yet changed the boys'school, as he proposed to do after their move. 

"That will be the only way, " said Elizabeth Eliza; for it had beenarranged that the little boys should take their lunch to school, and notcome home at noon. 

She sat down on the steps to wait, but only for a moment, for thecarts soon appeared, turning the corner. What should be done with thefurniture? Of course the carters must wait for the keys, as she shouldneed them to set the furniture up in the right places. But they couldnot stop for this. They put it down upon the piazza, on the steps, inthe garden, and Elizabeth Eliza saw how incongruous it was! There wassomething from every room in the house! Even the large family chest, which had proved too heavy for them to travel with had come down fromthe attic, and stood against the front door. 

And Solomon John appeared with the carpet woman, and a boy with awheelbarrow, bringing the new carpet. And all stood and waited. Someopposite neighbors appeared to offer advice and look on, and ElizabethEliza groaned inwardly that only the shabbiest of their furnitureappeared to be standing full in view. 

It seemed ages before Agamemnon returned, and no wonder; for he had beento the house, then to the school, then back to the house, for one ofthe little boys had left the keys at home, in the pocket of his clothes. Meanwhile the carpet-woman had waited, and the boy with the wheelbarrowhad waited, and when they got in they found the parlor must be swept andcleaned. So the carpet-woman went off in dudgeon, for she was sure therewould not be time enough to do anything. 

And one of the carts came again, and in their hurry the men set thefurniture down anywhere. Elizabeth Eliza was hoping to make a littleplace in the dining-room, where they might have their supper, and gohome to sleep. But she looked out, and there were the carters bringingthe bedsteads, and proceeding to carry them upstairs. 

In despair Elizabeth Eliza went back to the old house. If she had beenthere she might have prevented this. She found Mrs. Peterkin in an agonyabout the entry oil-cloth. It had been made in the house, and how couldit be taken out of the house? Agamemnon made measurements; it certainlycould not go out of the front door! He suggested it might be left tillthe house was pulled down, when it could easily be moved out of oneside. But Elizabeth Eliza reminded him that the whole house was tobe moved without being taken apart. Perhaps it could be cut in stripsnarrow enough to go out. One of the men loading the remaining cartdisposed of the question by coming in and rolling up the oil-cloth andcarrying it on on top of his wagon. 

Elizabeth Eliza felt she must hurry back to the new house. But whatshould they do?--no beds here, no carpets there! The dining-room tableand sideboard were at the other house, the plates, and forks, andspoons here. In vain she looked at her programme. It was all reversed;everything was misplaced. Mr. Peterkin would suppose they were to eathere and sleep here, and what had become of the little boys?

Meanwhile the man with the first cart had returned. They fell to packingthe dining-room china. 

They were up in the attic, they were down in the cellar. Even onesuggested to take the tacks out of the parlor carpets, as they shouldwant to take them next. 

Mrs. Peterkin sunk upon a kitchen chair. 

"Oh, I wish we had decided to stay and be moved in the house!" sheexclaimed. 

Solomon John urged his mother to go to the new house, for Mr. Peterkinwould be there for his "quiet hour. " And when the carters at lastappeared, carrying the parlor carpets on their shoulders, she sighed andsaid, "There is nothing left, " and meekly consented to be led away. 

They reached the new house to find Mr. Peterkin sitting calmly in arocking-chair on the piazza, watching the oxen coming into the oppositebarn. He was waiting for the keys, which Solomon John had taken backwith him. The little boys were in a horse-chestnut tree, at the side ofthe house. 

Agamemnon opened the door. The passages were crowded with furniture, thefloors were strewn with books; the bureau was upstairs that was to standin a lower bedroom; there was not a place to lay a table, --there wasnothing to lay upon it; for the knives and plates and spoons had notcome, and although the tables were there they were covered with chairsand boxes. 

At this moment came a covered basket from the lady from Philadelphia. Itcontained a choice supper, and forks and spoons, and at the same momentappeared a pot of hot tea from an opposite neighbor. They placed allthis on the back of a bookcase lying upset, and sat around it. SolomonJohn came rushing in from the gate. 

"The last load is coming! We are all moved!" he exclaimed; and thelittle boys joined in a chorus, "We are moved! we are moved!"

Mrs. Peterkin looked sadly round; the kitchen utensils were lying on theparlor lounge, and an old family gun on Elizabeth Eliza's hat-box. Theparlor clock stood on a barrel; some coal-scuttles had been placed onthe parlor table, a bust of Washington stood in the door-way, and thelooking-glasses leaned against the pillars of the piazza. But they weremoved! Mrs. Peterkin felt, indeed, that they were very much moved. 

THE PETERKINS DECIDE TO LEARN THE LANGUAGES. 

CERTAINLY now was the time to study the languages. The Peterkins hadmoved into a new house, far more convenient than their old one, wherethey would have a place for everything and everything in its place. Ofcourse they would then have more time. 

Elizabeth Eliza recalled the troubles of the old house, how for a longtime she was obliged to sit outside of the window upon the piazza, whenshe wanted to play on her piano. 

Mrs. Peterkin reminded them of the difficulty about the table-cloths. The upper table-cloth was kept in a trunk that had to stand in front ofthe door to the closet under the stairs. But the under table-cloth waskept in a drawer in the closet. So, whenever the cloths were changed, the trunk had to be pushed away under some projecting shelves to makeroom for opening the closet-door (as the under table-cloth must be takenout first), then the trunk was pushed back to make room for it to beopened for the upper table-cloth, and, after all, it was necessary topush the trunk away again to open the closet-door for the knife-tray. This always consumed a great deal of time. 

Now that the china-closet was large enough, everything could find aplace in it. 

Agamemnon especially enjoyed the new library. In the old house there wasno separate room for books. The dictionaries were kept upstairs, whichwas very inconvenient, and the volumes of the Encyclopędia could not betogether. There was not room for all in one place. So from A to P wereto be found downstairs, and from Q to Z were scattered in differentrooms upstairs. And the worst of it was, you could never rememberwhether from A to P included P. "I always went upstairs after P, " saidAgamemnon, "and then always found it downstairs, or else it was theother way. "

Of course now there were more conveniences for study. With the books allin one room, there would be no time wasted in looking for them. 

Mr. Peterkin suggested they should each take a separate language. Ifthey went abroad, this would prove a great convenience. ElizabethEliza could talk French with the Parisians; Agamemnon, German with theGermans; Solomon John, Italian with the Italians; Mrs. Peterkin, Spanishin Spain; and perhaps he could himself master all the Eastern Languagesand Russian. 

Mrs. Peterkin was uncertain about undertaking the Spanish, but all thefamily felt very sure they should not go to Spain (as Elizabeth Elizadreaded the Inquisition), and Mrs. Peterkin felt more willing. 

Still she had quite an objection to going abroad. She had always saidshe would not go till a bridge was made across the Atlantic, and she wassure it did not look like it now. 

Agamemnon said there was no knowing. There was something new every day, and a bridge was surely not harder to invent than a telephone, for theyhad bridges in the very earliest days. 

Then came up the question of the teachers. Probably these could be foundin Boston. If they could all come the same day, three could be broughtout in the carryall. Agamemnon could go in for them, and could learn alittle on the way out and in. 

Mr. Peterkin made some inquiries about the Oriental languages. He wastold that Sanscrit was at the root of all. So he proposed they shouldall begin with Sanscrit. They would thus require but one teacher, andcould branch out into the other languages afterward. 

But the family preferred learning the separate languages. ElizabethEliza already knew something of the French. She had tried to talkit, without much success, at the Centennial Exhibition, at one of theside-stands. But she found she had been talking with a Moorish gentlemanwho did not understand French. Mr. 

Peterkin feared they might need more libraries, if all the teachers cameat the same hour; but Agamemnon reminded him that they would be usingdifferent dictionaries. And Mr. Peterkin thought something might belearned by having them all at once. Each one might pick up somethingbeside the language he was studying, and it was a great thing to learnto talk a foreign language while others were talking about you. Mrs. Peterkin was afraid it would be like the Tower of Babel, and hoped itwas all right. 

Agamemnon brought forward another difficulty. Of course they ought tohave foreign teachers, who spoke only their native languages. But, inthis case, how could they engage them to come, or explain to them aboutthe carryall, or arrange the proposed hours? He did not understand howanybody ever began with a foreigner, because he could not even tell himwhat he wanted. 

Elizabeth Eliza thought a great deal might be done by signs andpantomime. 

Solomon John and the little boys began to show how it might be done. Elizabeth Eliza explained how "langues" meant both "languages" and"tongues, " and they could point to their tongues. For practice, thelittle boys represented the foreign teachers talking in their differentlanguages, and Agamemnon and Solomon John went to invite them to comeout, and teach the family by a series of signs. 

Mr. Peterkin thought their success was admirable, and that they mightalmost go abroad without any study of the languages, and trust toexplaining themselves by signs. Still, as the bridge was not yet made, it might be as well to wait and cultivate the languages. 

Mrs. Peterkin was afraid the foreign teachers might imagine they wereinvited out to lunch. Solomon John had constantly pointed to his mouthas he opened it and shut it, putting out his tongue; and it looked agreat deal more as if he were inviting them to eat, than asking themto teach. Agamemnon suggested that they might carry the separatedictionaries when they went to see the teachers, and that would showthat they meant lessons, and not lunch. 

Mrs. Peterkin was not sure but she ought to prepare a lunch for them, if they had come all that way; but she certainly did not know what theywere accustomed to eat. 

Mr. Peterkin thought this would be a good thing to learn of theforeigners. It would be a good preparation for going abroad, and theymight get used to the dishes before starting. The little boys weredelighted at the idea of having new things cooked. Agamemnon had heardthat beer-soup was a favorite dish with the Germans, and he wouldinquire how it was made in the first lesson. Solomon John had heard theywere all very fond of garlic, and thought it would be a pretty attentionto have some in the house the first day, that they might be cheered bythe odor. 

Elizabeth Eliza wanted to surprise the lady from Philadelphia by herknowledge of French, and hoped to begin on her lessons before thePhiladelphia family arrived for their annual visit. 

There were still some delays. Mr. Peterkin was very anxious to obtainteachers who had been but a short time in this country. He did not wantto be tempted to talk any English with them. He wanted the latestand freshest languages, and at last came home one day with a list of"brand-new foreigners. "

They decided to borrow the Bromwicks' carryall to use, beside their own, for the first day, and Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnon drove into town tobring all the teachers out. One was a Russian gentleman, travelling, whocame with no idea of giving lessons, but perhaps he would consent to doso. He could not yet speak English. 

Mr. Peterkin had his card-case, and the cards of the several gentlemenwho had recommended the different teachers, and he went with Agamemnonfrom hotel to hotel collecting them. He found them all very polite, and ready to come, after the explanation by signs agreed upon. Thedictionaries had been forgotten, but Agamemnon had a directory, whichlooked the same, and seemed to satisfy the foreigners. 

Mr. Peterkin was obliged to content himself with the Russian insteadof one who could teach Sanscrit, as there was no new teacher of thatlanguage lately arrived. 

But there was an unexpected difficulty in getting the Russian gentlemaninto the same carriage with the teacher of Arabic, for he was a Turk, sitting with a fez on his head, on the back seat! They glared at eachother, and began to assail each other in every language they knew, noneof which Mr. Peterkin could understand. It might be Russian, it might beArabic. It was easy to understand that they would never consent to sitin the same carriage. Mr. Peterkin was in despair; he had forgottenabout the Russian war! What a mistake to have invited the Turk!

Quite a crowd collected on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. But theFrench gentleman politely, but stiffly, invited the Russian to go withhim in the first carryall. Here was another difficulty. For the Germanprofessor was quietly ensconced on the back seat! As soon as the Frenchgentleman put his foot on the step and saw him, he addressed him insuch forcible language that the German professor got out of the door theother side, and came round on the sidewalk, and took him by the collar. Certainly the German and French gentlemen could not be put together, andmore crowd collected!

Agamemnon, however, had happily studied up the German word "Herr, " andhe applied it to the German, inviting him by signs to take a seat in theother carryall. The German consented to sit by the Turk, as they neitherof them could understand the other; and at last they started, Mr. Peterkin with the Italian by his side, and the French and Russianteachers behind, vociferating to each other in languages unknown toMr. Peterkin, while he feared they were not perfectly in harmony, sohe drove home as fast as possible. Agamemnon had a silent party. TheSpaniard by his side was a little moody, while the Turk and the Germanbehind did not utter a word. 

At last they reached the house, and were greeted by Mrs. Peterkinand Elizabeth Eliza, Mrs. Peterkin with her llama lace shawl over hershoulders, as a tribute to the Spanish teacher. Mr. Peterkin was carefulto take his party in first, and deposit them in a distant part of thelibrary, far from the Turk or the German, even putting the Frenchman andRussian apart. 

Solomon John found the Italian dictionary, and seated himself by hisItalian; Agamemnon, with the German dictionary, by the German. Thelittle boys took their copy of the "Arabian Nights" to the Turk. Mr. Peterkin attempted to explain to the Russian that he had no Russiandictionary, as he had hoped to learn Sanscrit of him, while Mrs. Peterkin was trying to inform her teacher that she had no books inSpanish. She got over all fears of the Inquisition, he looked so sad, and she tried to talk a little, using English words, but very slowly, and altering the accent as far as she knew how. The Spaniard bowed, looked gravely interested, and was very polite. 

Elizabeth Eliza, meanwhile, was trying her grammar phrases with theParisian. 

She found it easier to talk French than to understand him. Buthe understood perfectly her sentences. She repeated one of hervocabularies, and went on with--"J'ai le livre. " "As-tu le pain?""L'enfant a une poire. " He listened with great attention, and repliedslowly. Suddenly she started after making out one of his sentences, andwent to her mother to whisper, "They have made the mistake you feared. They think they are invited to lunch! He has just been thanking me forour politeness in inviting them to déjeūner, --that means breakfast!"

"They have not had their breakfast!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, looking ather Spaniard; "he does look hungry! What shall we do?"

Elizabeth Eliza was consulting her father. What should they do? Howshould they make them understand that they invited them to teach, notlunch. Elizabeth Eliza begged Agamemnon to look out "apprendre" in thedictionary. It must mean to teach. Alas, they found it means both toteach and to learn! What should they do? The foreigners were now sittingsilent in their different corners. The Spaniard grew more and moresallow. What if he should faint? The Frenchman was rolling up each ofhis mustaches to a point as he gazed at the German. What if the Russianshould fight the Turk? What if the German should be exasperated by theairs of the Parisian?

"We must give them something to eat, " said Mr. Peterkin, in a low tone. "It would calm them. "

"If I only knew what they were used to eating, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

Solomon John suggested that none of them knew what the others were usedto eating, and they might bring in anything. 

Mrs. Peterkin hastened out with hospitable intents. Amanda could makegood coffee. Mr. Peterkin had suggested some American dish. Solomon Johnsent a little boy for some olives. 

It was not long before the coffee came in, and a dish of baked beans. Next, some olives and a loaf of bread, and some boiled eggs, and somebottles of beer. The effect was astonishing. Every man spoke his owntongue, and fluently. Mrs. 

Peterkin poured out coffee for the Spaniard, while he bowed to her. Theyall liked beer, they all liked olives. The Frenchman was fluent about"les moeurs Américaines. " Elizabeth Eliza supposed he alluded to theirnot having set any table. The Turk smiled, the Russian was voluble. Inthe midst of the clang of the different languages, just as Mr. Peterkinwas again repeating, under cover of the noise of many tongues, "Howshall we make them understand that we want them to teach?"--at thisvery moment the door was flung open, and there came in the lady fromPhiladelphia, that day arrived, her first call of the season!

She started back in terror at the tumult of so many different languages!The family, with joy, rushed to meet her. All together they calledupon her to explain for them. Could she help them? Could she tell theforeigners they wanted to take lessons? Lessons? They had no sooneruttered the word than their guests all started up with faces beamingwith joy. It was the one English word they all knew! They had come toBoston to give lessons! The Russian traveller had hoped to learn Englishin this way. The thought pleased them more than the déjeūner. 

Yes, gladly would they give lessons. The Turk smiled at the idea. Thefirst step was taken. The teachers knew they were expected to teach. 

MODERN IMPROVEMENTS AT THE PETERKINS'. 

AGAMEMNON felt that it became necessary for him to choose a profession. It was important on account of the little boys. If he should make atrial of several different professions he could find out which would bethe most likely to be successful, and it would then be easy to bring upthe little boys in the right direction. 

Elizabeth Eliza agreed with this. She thought the family occasionallymade mistakes, and had come near disgracing themselves. Now was theirchance to avoid this in future by giving the little boys a propereducation. 

Solomon John was almost determined to become a doctor. From earliestchildhood he had practiced writing recipes on little slips of paper. Mrs. Peterkin, to be sure, was afraid of infection. She could not bearthe idea of his bringing one disease after the other into the familycircle. Solomon John, too, did not like sick people. He thought he mightmanage it if he should not have to see his patients while they weresick. If he could only visit them when they were recovering, and whenthe danger of infection was over, he would really enjoy making calls. 

He should have a comfortable doctor's chaise, and take one of the littleboys to hold his horse while he went in, and he thought he could getthrough the conversational part very well, and feeling the pulse, perhaps looking at the tongue. He should take and read all thenewspapers, and so be thoroughly acquainted with the news of the day totalk of. But he should not like to be waked up at night to visit. Mr. Peterkin thought that would not be necessary. He had seen signs on doorsof "Night Doctor, " and certainly it would be as convenient to have asign of "Not a Night Doctor. "

Solomon John thought he might write his advice to those of his patientswho were dangerously ill, from whom there was danger of infection. Andthen Elizabeth Eliza agreed that his prescriptions would probably be sosatisfactory that they would keep his patients well, --not too well to dowithout a doctor, but needing his recipes. 

Agamemnon was delayed, however, in his choice of a profession, by adesire he had to become a famous inventor. If he could only inventsomething important, and get out a patent, he would make himself knownall over the country. If he could get out a patent he would be set upfor life, or at least as long as the patent lasted, and it would be wellto be sure to arrange it to last through his natural life. 

Indeed, he had gone so far as to make his invention. It had beensuggested by their trouble with a key, in their late moving to their newhouse. He had studied the matter over a great deal. He looked it up inthe Encyclopędia, and had spent a day or two in the Public Library, inreading about Chubb's Lock and other patent locks. 

But his plan was more simple. It was this: that all keys should be madealike!

He wondered it had not been thought of before; but so it was, SolomonJohn said, with all inventions, with Christopher Columbus, andeverybody. Nobody knew the invention till it was invented, and then itlooked very simple. With Agamemnon's plan you need have but one key, that should fit everything! It should be a medium-sized key, not toolarge to carry. It ought to answer for a house door, but you might opena portmanteau with it. How much less danger there would be of losingone's keys if there were only one to lose!

Mrs. Peterkin thought it would be inconvenient if their father were out, and she wanted to open the jam-closet for the little boys. But Agamemnonexplained that he did not mean there should be but one key in thefamily, or in a town, --you might have as many as you pleased, only theyshould all be alike. 

Elizabeth Eliza felt it would be a great convenience, --they could keepthe front door always locked, yet she could open it with the key of herupper drawer; that she was sure to have with her. And Mrs. Peterkin feltit might be a convenience if they had one on each story, so that theyneed not go up and down for it. 

Mr. Peterkin studied all the papers and advertisements, to decide aboutthe lawyer whom they should consult, and at last, one morning, they wentinto town to visit a patent-agent. 

Elizabeth Eliza took the occasion to make a call upon the lady fromPhiladelphia, but she came back hurriedly to her mother. 

"I have had a delightful call, " she said; "but--perhaps I was wrong--Icould not help, in conversation, speaking of Agamemnon's proposedpatent. I ought not to have mentioned it, as such things are keptprofound secrets; they say women always do tell things; I suppose thatis the reason. "

"But where is the harm?" asked Mrs. Peterkin. "I'm sure you can trustthe lady from Philadelphia. "

Elizabeth Eliza then explained that the lady from Philadelphia hadquestioned the plan a little when it was told her, and had suggestedthat "if everybody had the same key there would be no particular use ina lock. "

"Did you explain to her, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "that we were not allto have the same keys?"

"I couldn't quite understand her, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "but she seemedto think that burglars and other people might come in if the keys werethe same. "

"Agamemnon would not sell his patent to burglars!" said Mrs. Peterkin, indignantly. 

"But about other people, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "there is my upperdrawer; the little boys might open it at Christmas-time, --and theirpresents in it!"

"And I am not sure that I could trust Amanda, " said Mrs. Peterkin, considering. 

Both she and Elizabeth Eliza felt that Mr. Peterkin ought to know whatthe lady from Philadelphia had suggested. Elizabeth Eliza then proposedgoing into town, but it would take so long she might not reach them intime. A telegram would be better, and she ventured to suggest using theTelegraph Alarm. 

For, on moving into their new house, they had discovered it was providedwith all the modern improvements. This had been a disappointment to Mrs. Peterkin, for she was afraid of them, since their experience the lastwinter, when their water-pipes were frozen up. She had been originallyattracted to the house by an old pump at the side, which had led herto believe there were no modern improvements. It had pleased the littleboys, too. They liked to pump the handle up and down, and agreed to pumpall the water needed, and bring it into the house. 

There was an old well, with a picturesque well-sweep, in a corner by thebarn. 

Mrs. Peterkin was frightened by this at first. She was afraid the littleboys would be falling in every day. And they showed great fondness forpulling the bucket up and down. It proved, however, that the well wasdry. There was no water in it; so she had some moss thrown down, and anold feather-bed, for safety, and the old well was a favorite place ofamusement. 

The house, it had proved, was well furnished with bath-rooms, and "set-waters" everywhere. Water-pipes and gas-pipes all over the house; and ahack-, telegraph-, and fire-alarm, with a little knob for each. 

Mrs. Peterkin was very anxious. She feared the little boys would besummoning somebody all the time, and it was decided to conceal fromthem the use of the knobs, and the card of directions at the side wasdestroyed. Agamemnon had made one of his first inventions to help this. He had arranged a number of similar knobs to be put in rows in differentparts of the house, to appear as if they were intended for ornament, andhad added some to the original knobs. Mrs. 

Peterkin felt more secure, and Agamemnon thought of taking out a patentfor this invention. 

It was, therefore, with some doubt that Elizabeth Eliza proposed sendinga telegram to her father. Mrs. Peterkin, however, was pleased with theidea. 

Solomon John was out, and the little boys were at school, and sheherself would touch the knob, while Elizabeth Eliza should write thetelegram. 

"I think it is the fourth knob from the beginning, " she said, looking atone of the rows of knobs. 

Elizabeth Eliza was sure of this. Agamemnon, she believed, had put threeextra knobs at each end. 

"But which is the end, and which is the beginning, --the top or thebottom?" Mrs. 

Peterkin asked hopelessly. 

Still she bravely selected a knob, and Elizabeth Eliza hastened with herto look out for the messenger. How soon should they see the telegraphboy?

They seemed to have scarcely reached the window, when a terriblenoise was heard, and down the shady street the white horses of thefire-brigade were seen rushing at a fatal speed!

It was a terrific moment!

"I have touched the fire-alarm, " Mrs. Peterkin exclaimed. 

Both rushed to open the front door in agony. By this time thefire-engines were approaching. 

"Do not be alarmed, " said the chief engineer; "the furniture shall becarefully covered, and we will move all that is necessary. "

"Move again!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, in agony. 

Elizabeth Eliza strove to explain that she was only sending a telegramto her father, who was in Boston. 

"It is not important, " said the head engineer; "the fire will all beout before it could reach him. "

And he ran upstairs, for the engines were beginning to play upon theroof. 

Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs again hurriedly; there was morenecessity for summoning Mr. Peterkin home. 

"Write a telegram to your father, " she said to Elizabeth Eliza, "to'come home directly. '"

"That will take but three words, " said Elizabeth Eliza, with presence ofmind, "and we need ten. I was just trying to make them out. "

"What has come now?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, and they hurriedagain to the window, to see a row of carriages coming down the street. 

"I must have touched the carriage-knob, " cried Mrs. Peterkin, "and Ipushed it half-a-dozen times I felt so anxious!"

Six hacks stood before the door. All the village boys were assembling. Even their own little boys had returned from school, and were showingthe firemen the way to the well. 

Again Mrs. Peterkin rushed to the knobs, and a fearful sound arose. Shehad touched the burglar-alarm!

The former owner of the house, who had a great fear of burglars, hadinvented a machine of his own, which he had connected with a knob. Awire attached to the knob moved a spring that could put in motion anumber of watchmen's rattles, hidden under the eaves of the piazza. 

All these were now set a-going, and their terrible din roused those ofthe neighborhood who had not before assembled around the house. At thismoment Elizabeth Eliza met the chief engineer. 

"You need not send for more help, " he said; "we have all the enginesin town here, and have stirred up all the towns in the neighborhood;there's no use in springing any more alarms. I can't find the fire yet, but we have water pouring all over the house. "

Elizabeth Eliza waved her telegram in the air. 

"We are only trying to send a telegram to my father and brother, who arein town, " she endeavored to explain. 

"If it is necessary, " said the chief engineer, "you might send it downin one of the hackney carriages. I see a number standing before thedoor. We'd better begin to move the heavier furniture, and some of youwomen might fill the carriages with smaller things. "

Mrs. Peterkin was ready to fall into hysterics. She controlled herselfwith a supreme power, and hastened to touch another knob. 

Elizabeth Eliza corrected her telegram, and decided to take the adviceof the chief engineer and went to the door to give her message to one ofthe hackmen, when she saw a telegraph boy appear. Her mother had touchedthe right knob. It was the fourth from the beginning; but the beginningwas at the other end!

She went out to meet the boy, when, to her joy, she saw behind him herfather and Agamemnon. She clutched her telegram, and hurried towardthem. 

Mr. Peterkin was bewildered. Was the house on fire? If so, where werethe flames?

He saw the row of carriages. Was there a funeral, or a wedding? Who wasdead?

Who was to be married?

He seized the telegram that Elizabeth Eliza reached to him, and read italoud. 

"Come to us directly--the house is NOT on fire!"

The chief engineer was standing on the steps. 

"The house not on fire!" he exclaimed. "What are we all summoned for?"

"It is a mistake, " cried Elizabeth Eliza, wringing her hands. "Wetouched the wrong knob; we wanted the telegraph boy!"

"We touched all the wrong knobs, " exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, from thehouse. 

The chief engineer turned directly to give counter-directions, with afew exclamations of disgust, as the bells of distant fire-engines wereheard approaching. 

Solomon John appeared at this moment, and proposed taking one of thecarriages, and going for a doctor for his mother, for she was now nearlyready to fall into hysterics, and Agamemnon thought to send a telegramdown by the boy, for the evening papers, to announce that the Peterkins'house had not been on fire. 

The crisis of the commotion had reached its height. The beds of flowers, bordered with dark-colored leaves, were trodden down by the feet of thecrowd that had assembled. 

The chief engineer grew more and more indignant, as he sent his men toorder back the fire-engines from the neighboring towns. The collectionof boys followed the procession as it went away. The fire-brigadehastily removed covers from some of the furniture, restored the rest totheir places, and took away their ladders. Many neighbors remained, butMr. Peterkin hastened into the house to attend to Mrs. Peterkin. 

Elizabeth Eliza took an opportunity to question her father, before hewent in, as to the success of their visit to town. 

"We saw all the patent-agents, " answered Mr. Peterkin, in a hollowwhisper. "Not one of them will touch the patent, or have anything to dowith it. "

Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon, as he walked silently into thehouse. She would not now speak to him of the patent; but she recalledsome words of Solomon John. When they were discussing the patent hehad said that many an inventor had grown gray before his discovery wasacknowledged by the public. Others might reap the harvest, but it came, perhaps, only when he was going to his grave. 

Elizabeth Eliza looked at Agamemnon reverently, and followed himsilently into the house. 

AGAMEMNON'S CAREER. 

THERE had apparently been some mistake in Agamemnon's education. He hadbeen to a number of colleges, indeed, but he had never completed hiscourse in any one. 

He had continually fallen into some difficulty with the authorities. Itwas singular, for he was of an inquiring mind, and had always tried tofind out what would be expected of him, but had never hit upon the rightthing. 

Solomon John thought the trouble might be in what they called theelective system, where you were to choose what study you might take. This had always bewildered Agamemnon a good deal. 

"And how was a feller to tell, " Solomon John had asked, "whether hewanted to study a thing before he tried it? It might turn out awfulhard!"

Agamemnon had always been fond of reading, from his childhood up. He wasat his book all day long. Mrs Peterkin had imagined he would come out agreat scholar, because she could never get him away from his books. 

And so it was in his colleges; he was always to be found in the library, reading and reading. But they were always the wrong books. 

For instance: the class were required to prepare themselves on theSpartan war. 

This turned Agamemnon's attention to the Fenians, and to study thesubject he read up on "Charles O'Malley, " and "Harry Lorrequer, " andsome later novels of that sort, which did not help him on the subjectrequired, yet took up all his time, so that he found himself unfittedfor anything else when the examinations came. In consequence he wasrequested to leave. 

Agamemnon always missed in his recitations, for the same reason thatElizabeth Eliza did not get on in school, because he was always askedthe questions he did not know. It seemed provoking; if the professorshad only asked something else!

But they always hit upon the very things he had not studied up. 

Mrs. Peterkin felt this was encouraging, for Agamemnon knew the thingsthey did not know in colleges. In colleges they were willing to takefor students only those who already knew certain things. She thoughtAgamemnon might be a professor in a college for those students whodidn't know those things. 

"I suppose these professors could not have known a great deal, " sheadded, "or they would not have asked you so many questions; they wouldhave told you something. "

Agamemnon had left another college on account of a mistake he had madewith some of his classmates. They had taken a great deal of trouble tobring some wood from a distant wood-pile to make a bonfire with, under one of the professors' windows. Agamemnon had felt it would be acompliment to the professor. 

It was with bonfires that heroes had been greeted on their return fromsuccessful wars. In this way beacon-lights had been kindled upon loftyheights, that had inspired mariners seeking their homes after distantadventures. As he plodded back and forward he imagined himself some heroof antiquity. He was reading "Plutarch's Lives" with deep interest. Thishad been recommended at a former college, and he was now taking it up inthe midst of his French course. 

He fancied, even, that some future Plutarch was growing up in Lynn, perhaps, who would write of this night of suffering, and glorify itsheroes. 

For himself he took a severe cold and suffered from chilblains, inconsequence of going back and forward through the snow, carrying thewood. 

But the flames of the bonfire caught the blinds of the professor'sroom, and set fire to the building, and came near burning up the wholeinstitution. Agamemnon regretted the result as much as his predecessor, who gave him his name, must have regretted that other bonfire, on theshores of Aulis, that deprived him of a daughter. 

The result for Agamemnon was that he was requested to leave, afterhaving been in the institution but a few months. 

He left another college in consequence of a misunderstanding about thehour for morning prayers. He went every day regularly at ten o'clock, but found, afterward, that he should have gone at half-past six. Thishour seemed to him and to Mrs. Peterkin unseasonable, at a time of yearwhen the sun was not up, and he would have been obliged to go to theexpense of candles. 

Agamemnon was always willing to try another college, wherever he couldbe admitted. He wanted to attain knowledge, however it might be found. But, after going to five, and leaving each before the year was out, hegave it up. 

He determined to lay out the money that would have been expended in acollegiate education in buying an Encyclopędia, the most complete thathe could find, and to spend his life studying it systematically. Hewould not content himself with merely reading it, but he would studyinto each subject as it came up, and perfect himself in that subject. By the time, then, that he had finished the Encyclopędia he should haveembraced all knowledge, and have experienced much of it. 

The family were much interested in this plan of making practice of everysubject that came up. 

He did not, of course, get on very fast in this way. In the secondcolumn of the very first page he met with A as a note in music. This ledhim to the study of music. He bought a flute, and took some lessons, andattempted to accompany Elizabeth Eliza on the piano. This, of course, distracted him from his work on the Encyclopędia. But he did not wish toreturn to A until he felt perfect in music. This required a long time. 

Then in this same paragraph a reference was made; in it he was requestedto "see Keys. " It was necessary, then, to turn to "Keys. " This wasabout the time the family were moving, which we have mentioned, when thedifficult subject of keys came up, that suggested to him his own simpleinvention, and the hope of getting a patent for it. This led him astray, as inventions before have done with master-minds, so that he was drawnaside from his regular study. 

The family, however, were perfectly satisfied with the career Agamemnonhad chosen. It would help them all, in any path of life, if he shouldmaster the Encyclopędia in a thorough way. 

Mr. Peterkin agreed it would in the end be not as expensive as a collegecourse, even if Agamemnon should buy all the different Encyclopędiasthat appeared. 

There would be no "spreads" involved; no expense of receiving friends atentertainments in college; he could live at home, so that it would notbe necessary to fit up another room, as at college. At all the times ofhis leaving he had sold out favorably to other occupants. 

Solomon John's destiny was more uncertain. He was looking forwardto being a doctor some time, but he had not decided whether to beallopathic or homeopathic, or whether he could not better invent his ownpills. And he could not understand how to obtain his doctor's degree. 

For a few weeks he acted as clerk in a druggist's store. But he couldserve only in the toothbrush and soap department, because it was foundhe was not familiar enough with the Latin language to compound thedrugs. He agreed to spend his evenings in studying the Latin grammar;but his course was interrupted by his being dismissed for treating thelittle boys too frequently to soda. 

The little boys were going through the schools regularly. The family hadbeen much exercised with regard to their education. Elizabeth Elizafelt that everything should be expected from them; they ought to takeadvantage from the family mistakes. Every new method that came up wastried upon the little boys. 

They had been taught spelling by all the different systems, and werejust able to read, when Mr. Peterkin learned that it was now consideredbest that children should not be taught to read till they were ten yearsold. 

Mrs. Peterkin was in despair. Perhaps, if their books were taken fromthem even then, they might forget what they had learned. But no, theevil was done; the brain had received certain impressions that could notbe blurred over. 

This was long ago, however. The little boys had since entered the publicschools. They went also to a gymnasium, and a whittling school, andjoined a class in music, and another in dancing; they went to someafternoon lectures for children, when there was no other school, andbelonged to a walking-club. Still Mr. Peterkin was dissatisfied by theslowness of their progress. He visited the schools himself, and foundthat they did not lead their classes. It seemed to him a great deal oftime was spent in things that were not instructive, such as putting onand taking off their india-rubber boots. 

Elizabeth Eliza proposed that they should be taken from school andtaught by Agamemnon from the Encyclopędia. The rest of the family mighthelp in the education at all hours of the day. Solomon John could takeup the Latin grammar, and she could give lessons in French. 

The little boys were enchanted with the plan, only they did not want tohave the study-hours all the time. 

Mr. Peterkin, however, had a magnificent idea, that they should maketheir life one grand Object Lesson. They should begin at breakfast, andstudy everything put upon the table, --the material of which it was made, and where it came from. 

In the study of the letter A, Agamemnon had embraced the study of music, and from one meal they might gain instruction enough for a day. 

"We shall have the assistance, " said Mr. Peterkin, "of Agamemnon, withhis Encyclopędia. "

Agamemnon modestly suggested that he had not yet got out of A, and intheir first breakfast everything would therefore have to begin with A. 

"That would not be impossible, " said Mr. Peterkin. "There is Amanda, whowill wait on table, to start with--"

"We could have 'am-and-eggs, " suggested Solomon John Mrs. Peterkin wasdistressed. It was hard enough to think of anything for breakfast, andimpossible, if it all had to begin with one letter. 

Elizabeth Eliza thought it would not be necessary. All they were to dowas to ask questions, as in examination papers, and find their answersas they could. 

They could still apply to the Encyclopędia, even if it were not inAgamemnon's alphabetical course. 

Mr. Peterkin suggested a great variety. One day they would study thebotany of the breakfast-table, another day, its natural history. The study of butter would include that of the cow. Even that of thebutter-dish would bring in geology. 

The little boys were charmed at the idea of learning pottery from thecream-jug, and they were promised a potter's wheel directly. 

"You see, my dear, " said Mr. Peterkin to his wife, "before many weeks, we shall be drinking our milk from jugs made by our children. "

Elizabeth Eliza hoped for a thorough study. 

"Yes, " said Mr. Peterkin, "we might begin with botany. That would benear to Agamemnon alphabetically. We ought to find out the botany ofbutter. On what does the cow feed?"

The little boys were eager to go out and see. 

"If she eats clover, " said Mr. Peterkin, "we shall expect the botany ofclover. "

The little boys insisted that they were to begin the next day; that veryevening they should go out and study the cow. 

Mrs. Peterkin sighed, and decided she would order a simple breakfast. The little boys took their note-books and pencils, and clambered uponthe fence, where they seated themselves in a row. 

For there were three little boys. So it was now supposed. They werealways coming in or going out, and it had been difficult to count them, and nobody was very sure how many there were. 

There they sat, however, on the fence, looking at the cow. She looked atthem with large eyes. 

"She won't eat, " they cried, "while we are looking at her!"

So they turned about, and pretended to look into the street, and seatedthemselves that way, turning their heads back, from time to time, to seethe cow. 

"Now she is nibbling a clover. "

"No, that is a bit of sorrel. "

"It's a whole handful of grass. "

"What kind of grass?" they exclaimed. 

It was very hard, sitting with their backs to the cow, and pretending tothe cow that they were looking into the street, and yet to be looking atthe cow all the time, and finding out what she was eating; and the upperrail of the fence was narrow and a little sharp. It was very high, too, for some additional rails had been put on to prevent the cow fromjumping into the garden or street. 

Suddenly, looking out into the hazy twilight, Elizabeth Eliza sawsix legs and six india-rubber boots in the air, and the little boysdisappeared!

"They are tossed by the cow! The little boys are tossed by the cow!"

Mrs. Peterkin rushed for the window, but fainted on the way. SolomonJohn and Elizabeth Eliza were hurrying to the door, but stopped, notknowing what to do next. Mrs. Peterkin recovered herself with a supremeeffort, and sent them out to the rescue. 

But what could they do? The fence had been made so high, to keep the cowout, that nobody could get in. The boy that did the milking had goneoff with the key of the outer gate, and perhaps with the key of the sheddoor. Even if that were not locked, before Agamemnon could get round bythe wood-shed and cow-shed, the little boys might be gored through andthrough!

Elizabeth Eliza ran to the neighbors, Solomon John to the druggist's forplasters, while Agamemnon made his way through the dining-room to thewood-shed and outer-shed door. Mr. Peterkin mounted the outside of thefence, while Mrs. 

Peterkin begged him not to put himself in danger. He climbed high enoughto view the scene. He held to the corner post and reported what he saw. 

They were not gored. The cow was at the other end of the lot. One of thelittle boys were lying in a bunch of dark leaves. He was moving. 

The cow glared, but did not stir. Another little boy was pulling hisindia-rubber boots out of the mud. The cow still looked at him. 

Another was feeling the top of his head. The cow began to crop thegrass, still looking at him. 

Agamemnon had reached and opened the shed-door. The little boys werenext seen running toward it. 

A crowd of neighbors, with pitchforks, had returned meanwhile withElizabeth Eliza. Solomon John had brought four druggists. But, by thetime they had reached the house, the three little boys were safe in thearms of their mother!

"This is too dangerous a form of education, " she cried; "I had ratherthey went to school. "

"No!" they bravely cried. They were still willing to try the other way. 

THE EDUCATIONAL BREAKFAST. 

MRS. PETERKIN'S nerves were so shaken by the excitement of the fall ofthe three little boys into the enclosure where the cow was kept that theeducational breakfast was long postponed. The little boys continued atschool, as before, and the conversation dwelt as little as possible uponthe subject of education. 

Mrs. Peterkin's spirits, however, gradually recovered. The little boyswere allowed to watch the cow at her feed. A series of strings werearranged by Agamemnon and Solomon John, by which the little boys couldbe pulled up, if they should again fall down into the enclosure. Thesewere planned something like curtain-cords, and Solomon John frequentlyamused himself by pulling one of the little boys up or letting him down. 

Some conversation did again fall upon the old difficulty of questions. Elizabeth Eliza declared that it was not always necessary to answer;that many who could did not answer questions, --the conductors of therailroads, for instance, who probably knew the names of all the stationson a road, but were seldom able to tell them. 

"Yes, " said Agamemnon, "one might be a conductor without even knowingthe names of the stations, because you can't understand them when theydo tell them!"

"I never know, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "whether it is ignorance in them, or unwillingness, that prevents them from telling you how soon onestation is coming, or how long you are to stop, even if one asks ever somany times. It would be useful if they would tell. "

Mrs. Peterkin thought this was carried too far in the horse-cars inBoston. The conductors had always left you as far as possible from theplace where you wanted to stop; but it seemed a little too much to havethe aldermen take it up, and put a notice in the cars, ordering theconductors "to stop at the farthest crossing. "

Mrs. Peterkin was, indeed, recovering her spirits. She had been carryingon a brisk correspondence with Philadelphia, that she had imparted to noone, and at last she announced, as its result, that she was ready for abreakfast on educational principles. 

A breakfast indeed, when it appeared! Mrs. Peterkin had mistakenthe alphabetical suggestion, and had grasped the idea that the wholealphabet must be represented in one breakfast. 

This, therefore, was the bill of fare: Apple-sauce, Bread, Butter, Coffee, Cream, Doughnuts, Eggs, Fish-balls, Griddles, Ham, Ice (onbutter), Jam, Krout (sour), Lamb-chops, Morning Newspapers, Oatmeal, Pepper, Quince-marmalade, Rolls, Salt, Tea Urn, Veal-pie, Waffles, Yeast-biscuit. 

Mr. Peterkin was proud and astonished. "Excellent!" he cried. "Everyletter represented except Z. " Mrs. Peterkin drew from her pocket aletter from the lady from Philadelphia. "She thought you would call itX-cellent for X, and she tells us, " she read, "that if you come with azest, you will bring the Z. "

Mr. Peterkin was enchanted. He only felt that he ought to invite thechildren in the primary schools to such a breakfast; what a zest, indeed, it would give to the study of their letters!

It was decided to begin with Apple-sauce. 

"How happy, " exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, "that this should come first ofall! A child might be brought up on apple-sauce till he had masteredthe first letter of the alphabet, and could go on to the more involvedsubjects hidden in bread, butter, baked beans, etc. "

Agamemnon thought his father hardly knew how much was hidden inthe apple. There was all the story of William Tell and the Swissindependence. The little boys were wild to act William Tell, but Mrs. Peterkin was afraid of the arrows. Mrs. 

Peterkin proposed they should begin by eating the apple-sauce, thendiscussing it, first botanically, next historically; or perhaps firsthistorically, beginning with Adam and Eve, and the first apple. 

Mrs. Peterkin feared the coffee would be getting cold, and the griddleswere waiting. For herself, she declared she felt more at home on themarmalade, because the quinces came from grandfather's, and she had seenthem planted; she remembered all about it, and now the bush came up tothe sitting-room window. 

She seemed to have heard him tell that the town of Quincy, where thegranite came from, was named from them, and she never quite recollectedwhy, except they were so hard, as hard as stone, and it took you almostthe whole day to stew them, and then you might as well set them onagain. 

Mr. Peterkin was glad to be reminded of the old place at grandfather's. In order to know thoroughly about apples, they ought to understand themaking of cider. 

Now, they might some time drive up to grandfather's, scarcely twelvemiles away, and see the cider made. Why, indeed, should not the familygo this very day up to grandfather's, and continue the education of thebreakfast?

"Why not indeed?" exclaimed the little boys. A day at grandfather'swould give them the whole process of the apple, from the orchard to thecider-mill. In this way they could widen the field of study, even tofollow in time the cup of coffee to Java. 

It was suggested, too, that at grandfather's they might study theprocesses of maple-syrup as involved in the griddle-cakes. 

Agamemnon pointed out the connection between the two subjects: they wereboth the products of trees--the apple-tree and the maple. Mr. Peterkinproposed that the lesson for the day should be considered the study oftrees, and on the way they could look at other trees. 

Why not, indeed, go this very day? There was no time like the present. Their breakfast had been so copious, they would scarcely be in a hurryfor dinner, and would, therefore, have the whole day before them. 

Mrs. Peterkin could put up the remains of the breakfast for luncheon. 

But how should they go? The carryall, in spite of its name, could hardlytake the whole family, though they might squeeze in six, as the littleboys did not take up much room. 

Elizabeth Eliza suggested that she could spend the night atgrandfather's. 

Indeed, she had been planning a visit there, and would not object tostaying some days. This would make it easier about coming home, but itdid not settle the difficulty in getting there. 

Why not "Ride and Tie"?

The little boys were fond of walking; so was Mr. Peterkin; and Agamemnonand Solomon John did not object to their turn. Mrs. Peterkin could sitin the carriage, when it was waiting for the pedestrians to come up; or, she said, she did not object to a little turn of walking. Mr. Peterkinwould start, with Solomon John and the little boys, before the rest, and Agamemnon should drive his mother and Elizabeth Eliza to the firststopping-place. 

Then came up another question, --of Elizabeth Eliza's trunk. If she stayeda few days, she would need to carry something. It might be hot, and itmight be cold. 

Just as soon as she carried her thin things, she would need her heaviestwraps. 

You never could depend upon the weather. Even "Probabilities" got you nofarther than to-day. 

In an inspired moment, Elizabeth Eliza bethought herself of theexpressman. She would send her trunk by the express, and she left thetable directly to go and pack it. Mrs. Peterkin busied herself withAmanda over the remains of the breakfast. Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnonwent to order the horse and the expressman, and Solomon John and thelittle boys prepared themselves for a pedestrian excursion. 

Elizabeth Eliza found it difficult to pack in a hurry; there were somany things she might want, and then again she might not. She mustput up her music, because her grandfather had a piano; and then shebethought herself of Agamemnon's flute, and decided to pick out a volumeor two of the Encyclopędia. But it was hard to decide, all by herself, whether to take G for griddle-cakes, or M for maple-syrup, or T fortree. She would take as many as she could make room for. 

She put up her work-box and two extra work-baskets, and she must takesome French books she had never yet found time to read. This involvedtaking her French dictionary, as she doubted if her grandfather had one. She ought to put in a "Botany, " if they were to study trees; but shecould not tell which, so she would take all there were. She might aswell take all her dresses, and it was no harm if one had too many wraps. When she had her trunk packed, she found it over-full; it was difficultto shut it. She had heard Solomon John set out from the front door withhis father and the little boys, and Agamemnon was busy holding the horseat the side door, so there was no use in calling for help. She got uponthe trunk; she jumped upon it; she sat down upon it, and, leaning over, found she could lock it! Yes, it was really locked. 

But, on getting down from the trunk, she found her dress had been caughtin the lid; she could not move away from it! What was worse, she was sofastened to the trunk that she could not lean forward far enough toturn the key back, to unlock the trunk and release herself! The lock hadslipped easily, but she could not now get hold of the key in the rightway to turn it back. 

She tried to pull her dress away. No, it was caught too firmly. Shecalled for help to her mother or Amanda, to come and open the trunk. Buther door was shut. 

Nobody near enough to hear! She tried to pull the trunk toward the door, to open it and make herself heard; but it was so heavy that, in herconstrained position, she could not stir it. In her agony, shewould have been willing to have torn her dress; but it was hertravelling-dress, and too stout to tear. She might cut it carefully. Alas, she had packed her scissors, and her knife she had lent to thelittle boys the day before! She called again. What silence there was inthe house! Her voice seemed to echo through the room. At length, as shelistened, she heard the sound of wheels. 

Was it the carriage, rolling away from the side door? Did she hear thefront door shut? She remembered then that Amanda was to "have the day. "But she, Elizabeth Eliza, was to have spoken to Amanda, to explain toher to wait for the expressman. She was to have told her as she wentdownstairs. But she had not been able to go downstairs! And Amanda musthave supposed that all the family had left, and she, too, must havegone, knowing of the expressman. Yes, she heard the wheels! She heardthe front door shut!

But could they have gone without her? Then she recalled that she hadproposed walking on a little way with Solomon John and her father, to bepicked up by Mrs. Peterkin, if she should have finished her packing intime. Her mother must have supposed that she had done so, --that shehad spoken to Amanda, and started with the rest. Well, she would soondiscover her mistake. She would overtake the walking party, and, notfinding Elizabeth Eliza, would return for her. Patience only was needed. She had looked around for something to read; but she had packed up allher books. She had packed her knitting. How quiet and still it was! Shetried to imagine where her mother would meet the rest of the family. They were good walkers, and they might have reached the two-mile bridge. But suppose they should stop for water beneath the arch of the bridge, as they often did, and the carryall pass over it without seeing them, her mother would not know but she was with them? And suppose her mothershould decide to leave the horse at the place proposed for stoppingand waiting for the first pedestrian party, and herself walk on, noone would be left to tell the rest, when they should come up to thecarryall. They might go on so, through the whole journey, withoutmeeting, and she might not be missed till they should reach hergrandfather's!

Horrible thought! She would be left here alone all day. The expressmanwould come, but the expressman would go, for he would not be able to getinto the house!

She thought of the terrible story of Ginevra, of the bride who was shutup in her trunk, and forever! She was shut up on hers, and knew notwhen she should be released! She had acted once in the ballad of the"Mistletoe Bough. " She had been one of the "guests, " who had sung "Oh, the Mistletoe Bough, " and had looked up at it, and she had seen at theside-scenes how the bride had laughingly stepped into the trunk. But thetrunk then was only a make-believe of some boards in front of a sofa, and this was a stern reality. 

It would be late now before her family would reach her grandfather's. Perhaps they would decide to spend the night. Perhaps they would fancyshe was coming by express. She gave another tremendous effort to movethe trunk toward the door. 

In vain. All was still. 

Meanwhile, Mrs. Peterkin sat some time at the door, wondering whyElizabeth Eliza did not come down. Mr. Peterkin had started on withSolomon John and all the little boys. Agamemnon had packed the thingsinto the carriage, --a basket of lunch, a change of shoes for Mr. Peterkin, some extra wraps, --everything Mrs. 

Peterkin could think of, for the family comfort. Still Elizabeth Elizadid not come. "I think she must have walked on with your father, " shesaid, at last; "you had better get in. " Agamemnon now got in. "I shouldthink she would have mentioned it, " she continued; "but we may as wellstart on, and pick her up!"

They started off. "I hope Elizabeth Eliza thought to speak to Amanda, but we must ask her when we come up with her. "

But they did not come up with Elizabeth Eliza. At the turn beyond thevillage, they found an envelope struck up in an inviting manner againsta tree. In this way, they had agreed to leave missives for each other asthey passed on. This note informed them that the walking party was goingto take the short cut across the meadows, and would still be in frontof them. They saw the party at last, just beyond the short cut; but Mr. Peterkin was explaining the character of the oak-tree to his children asthey stood around a large specimen. 

"I suppose he is telling them that it is some kind of a 'Quercus, '" saidAgamemnon, thoughtfully. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought Mr. Peterkin would scarcely use such anexpression, but she could see nothing of Elizabeth Eliza. Some of theparty, however, were behind the tree, some were in front, and ElizabethEliza might be behind the tree. They were too far off to be shouted at. Mrs. Peterkin was calmed, and went on to the stopping-lace agreed upon, which they reached before long. This had been appointed near FarmerGordon's barn, that there might be somebody at hand whom they knew, incase there should be any difficulty in untying the horse. The plan hadbeen that Mrs. Peterkin should always sit in the carriage, while theothers should take turns for walking; and Agamemnon tied the horse to afence, and left her comfortably arranged with her knitting. Indeed, shehad risen so early to prepare for the alphabetical breakfast, and hadsince been so tired with preparations, that she was quite sleepy, andwould not object to a nape in the shade, by the soothing sound of thebuzzing of the flies. But she called Agamemnon back, as he started offfor his solitary walk, with a perplexing question:

"Suppose the rest all should arrive, how could they now be accommodatedin the carryall? It would be too much for the horse! Why had ElizabethEliza gone with the rest without counting up? Of course, they must haveexpected that she--Mrs. Peterkin--would walk on to the next stopping-place!"

She decided there was no way but for her to walk on. When the restpassed her, they might make a change. So she put up knitting cheerfully. It was a little joggly in the carriage, she had already found, forthe horse was restless from the flies, and she did not like being leftalone. 

She walked on then with Agamemnon. It was very pleasant at first, butthe sun became hot, and it was not long before she was fatigued. Whenthey reached a hay-field, she proposed going in to rest upon one of thehay-cocks. The largest and most shady was at the other end of the field, and they were seated there when the carryall passed them in the road. Mrs. Peterkin waved parasol and hat, and the party in the carryallreturned their greetings, but they were too far apart to hear eachother. 

Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon slowly resumed their walk. 

"Well, we shall find Elizabeth Eliza in the carryall, " she said, "andthat will explain all. "

But it took them an hour or two to reach the carryall, with frequentstoppings for rest, and when they reached it, no one was in it. A notewas pinned up in the vehicle to say they had all walked on; it was"prime fun. "

In this way the parties continued to dodge each other, for Mrs. Peterkinfelt that she must walk on from the next station, and the carryallmissed her again while she and Agamemnon stopped in a house to rest, andfor a glass of water. 

She reached the carryall to find again that no one was in it. The partyhad passed on for the last station, where it had been decided all shouldmeet at the foot of grandfather's hill, that they might all arrive atthe house together. 

Mrs. Peterkin and Agamemnon looked out eagerly for the party all theway, as Elizabeth Eliza must be tired by this time; but Mrs. Peterkin'slast walk had been so slow, that the other party was far in advance andreached the stopping-place before them. The little boys were all rowedout on the stone fence, awaiting them, full of delight at having reachedgrandfather's. Mr. 

Peterkin came forward to meet them, and, at the same moment with Mrs. Peterkin, exclaimed: "Where is Elizabeth Eliza?" Each party lookedeagerly at the other; no Elizabeth Eliza was to be seen. Where was she?What was to be done? Was she left behind? Mrs. Peterkin was convincedshe must have somehow got to grandfather's. They hurried up the hill. Grandfather and all the family came out to greet them, for they had beenseen approaching. There was great questioning, but no Elizabeth Eliza!

It was sunset; the view was wide and fine. Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin stoodand looked out from the north to the south. Was it too late to send backfor Elizabeth Eliza? Where was she?

Meanwhile the little boys had been informing the family of the objectof their visit, and while Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin were looking up and downthe road, and Agamemnon and Solomon John were explaining to each otherthe details of their journeys, they had discovered some facts. 

"We shall have to go back, " they exclaimed. "We are too late! Themaple-syrup was all made last spring. "

"We are too early; we shall have to stay two or three months, --the cideris not made till October. "

The expedition was a failure! They could study the making of neithermaple-syrup nor cider, and Elizabeth Eliza was lost, perhaps forever!The sun went down, and Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin still stood to look up anddown the road. 

. .. Elizabeth Eliza meanwhile, had sat upon her trunk, as itseemed for ages. She recalled all the terrible stories of prisoners, --howthey had watched the growth of flowers through cracks in the pavement. She wondered how long she could live without eating. How thankful shewas for her abundant breakfast!

At length she heard the door-bell. But who could go to the door toanswer it? In vain did she make another effort to escape; it wasimpossible!

How singular!--there were footsteps. Some one was going to the door; someone had opened it. "They must be burglars. " Well, perhaps that was abetter fate--to be gagged by burglars, and the neighbors informed--thanto be forever locked on her trunk. The steps approached the door. Itopened, and Amanda ushered in the expressman. 

Amanda had not gone. She had gathered, while waiting at thebreakfast-table, that there was to be an expressman whom she mustreceive. 

Elizabeth Eliza explained the situation. The expressman turned the keyof her trunk, and she was released!

What should she do next? So long a time had elapsed, she had given upall hope of her family returning for her. But how could she reach them?

She hastily prevailed upon the expressman to take her along until sheshould come up with some of the family. At least she would fall in witheither the walking party or the carryall, or she would meet them if theywere on their return. 

She mounted the seat with the expressman, and slowly they took theirway, stopping for occasional parcels as they left the village. 

But much to Elizabeth Eliza's dismay, they turned off from the main roadon leaving the village. She remonstrated, but the driver insisted hemust go round by Millikin's to leave a bedstead. They went roundby Millikin's, and then had further turns to make. Elizabeth Elizaexplained that in this way it would be impossible for her to find herparents and family, and at last he proposed to take her all the way withher trunk. She remembered with a shudder that when she had first askedabout her trunk, he had promised it should certainly be delivered thenext morning. Suppose they should have to be out all night? Where didexpress-carts spend the night? She thought of herself in a lone wood, in an express-wagon! She could hardly bring herself to ask, beforeassenting, when he should arrive. 

"He guessed he could bring up before night. "

And so it happened that as Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin in the late sunsetwere looking down the hill, wondering what they should do about the lostElizabeth Eliza, they saw an express wagon approaching. A female formsat upon the front seat. 

"She has decided to come by express, " said Mrs. Peterkin. "It is--itis--Elizabeth Eliza!"

THE PETERKINS AT THE "CARNIVAL OF AUTHORS" IN BOSTON. 

THE Peterkins were in quite a muddle (for them) about the carnivalof authors, to be given in Boston. As soon as it was announced, theirinterests were excited, and they determined that all the family shouldgo. 

But they conceived a wrong idea of the entertainment, as they supposedthat every one must go in costume. Elizabeth Eliza thought theirlessons in the foreign languages would help them much in conversing incharacter. 

As the carnival was announced early Solomon John thought there would betime to read up everything written by all the authors, in order to beacquainted with the characters they introduced. Mrs. Peterkin did notwish to begin too early upon the reading, for she was sure she shouldforget all that the different authors had written before the day came. 

But Elizabeth Eliza declared that she should hardly have time enough, as it was, to be acquainted with all the authors. She had given up herFrench lessons, after taking six, for want of time, and had, indeed, concluded she had learned in them all she should need to know of thatlanguage. She could repeat one or two pages of phrases, and she wasastonished to find how much she could understand already of what theFrench teacher said to her; and he assured her that when she went toParis she could at least ask the price of gloves, or of some otherthings she would need, and he taught her, too, how to pronounce"garēon, " in calling for more. 

Agamemnon thought that different members of the family might makethemselves familiar with different authors; the little boys were alreadyacquainted with "Mother Goose. " Mr. Peterkin had read the "PickwickPapers, " and Solomon John had actually seen Mr. Longfellow getting intoa horse-car. 

Elizabeth Eliza suggested that they might ask the Turk to give lecturesupon the "Arabian Nights. " Everybody else was planning something of thesort, to "raise funds" for some purpose, and she was sure they ought notto be behindhand. Mrs. 

Peterkin approved of this. It would be excellent if they could raisefunds enough to pay for their own tickets to the carnival; then theycould go every night. 

Elizabeth Eliza was uncertain. She thought it was usual to use the fundsfor some object. Mr. Peterkin said that if they gained funds enough theymight arrange a booth of their own, and sit in it, and take the carnivalcomfortably. 

But Agamemnon reminded him that none of the family were authors, andonly authors had booths. Solomon John, indeed, had once started uponwriting a book, but he was not able to think of anything to put in it, and nothing had occurred to him yet. 

Mr. Peterkin urged him to make one more effort. If his book could comeout before the carnival he could go as an author, and might have a boothof his own, and take his family. 

But Agamemnon declared it would take years to become an author. Youmight indeed publish something, but you had to make sure that it wouldbe read. Mrs. 

Peterkin, on the other hand, was certain that libraries were filled withbooks that never were read, yet authors had written them. For herself, she had not read half the books in their own library. And she was gladthere was to be a Carnival of Authors, that she might know who theywere. 

Mr. Peterkin did not understand why they called them a "Carnival"; buthe supposed they should find out when they went to it. 

Mrs. Peterkin still felt uncertain about costumes. She proposed lookingover the old trunks in the garret. They would find some suitabledresses there, and these would suggest what characters they should take. Elizabeth Eliza was pleased with this thought. She remembered an oldturban of white mull muslin, in an old bandbox, and why should not hermother wear it?

Mrs. Peterkin supposed that she should then go as her own grandmother. 

Agamemnon did not approve of this. Turbans are now worn in the East, andMrs. 

Peterkin could go in some Eastern character. Solomon John thought shemight be Cleopatra, and this was determined on. Among the treasuresfound were some old bonnets, of large size, with waving plumes. Elizabeth Eliza decided upon the largest of these. 

She was tempted to appear as Mrs. Columbus, as Solomon John was to takethe character of Christopher Columbus; but he was planning to enterupon the stage in a boat, and Elizabeth Eliza was a little afraid ofsea-sickness, as he had arranged to be a great while finding the shore. 

Solomon John had been led to take this character by discovering acoal-hod that would answer for a helmet; then, as Christopher Columbuswas born in Genoa, he could use the phrases in Italian he had latelylearned of his teacher. 

As the day approached the family had their costumes prepared. 

Mr. Peterkin decided to be Peter the Great. It seemed to him a happythought, for the few words of Russian he had learned would come in play, and he was quite sure that his own family name made him kin to that ofthe great Czar. He studied up the life in the Encyclopędia, and decidedto take the costume of a ship-builder. He visited the navy-yard andsome of the docks; but none of them gave him the true idea of dress forship-building in Holland or St. Petersburg. 

But he found a picture of Peter the Great, representing him in abroad-brimmed hat. So he assumed one that he found at a costumer's, and with Elizabeth Eliza's black waterproof was satisfied with his ownappearance. 

Elizabeth Eliza wondered if she could not go with her father in someRussian character. She would have to lay aside her large bonnet, but shehad seen pictures of Russian ladies, with fur muffs on their heads, andshe might wear her own muff. 

Mrs. Peterkin, as Cleopatra, wore the turban, with a little row of falsecurls in front, and a white embroidered muslin shawl crossed over herblack silk dress. The little boys thought she looked much like thepicture of their great-grandmother. But doubtless Cleopatra resembledthis picture, as it was all so long ago, so the rest of the familydecided. 

Agamemnon determined to go as Noah. The costume, as represented in oneof the little boys' arks, was simple. His father's red-lined dressinggown, turned inside out, permitted it easily. 

Elizabeth Eliza was now anxious to be Mrs. Shem, and make a long dressof yellow flannel, and appear with Agamemnon and the little boys. Forthe little boys were to represent two doves and a raven. There werefeather-dusters enough in the family for their costumes, which would bethen complete with their india-rubber boots. 

Solomon John carried out in detail his idea of Christopher Columbus. He had a number of eggs boiled hard to take in his pocket, proposing torepeat, through the evening, the scene of setting the egg on its end. He gave up the plan of a boat, as it must be difficult to carry one intotown; so he contented himself by practising the motion of landing bystepping up on a chair. 

But what scene could Elizabeth Eliza carry out? If they had an ark, asMrs. Shem she might crawl in and out of the roof constantly, if it werenot too high. But Mr. Peterkin thought it as difficult to take an arkinto town as Solomon John's boat. 

The evening came. But with all their preparations they got to the halllate. The entrance was filled with a crowd of people, and, as theystopped at the cloakroom, to leave their wraps, they found themselvesentangled with a number of people in costume coming out from adressing-room below. Mr. Peterkin was much encouraged. They were thusjoining the performers. The band was playing the "Wedding March" as theywent upstairs to a door of the hall which opened upon one side of thestage. Here a procession was marching up the steps of the stage, all incostume, and entering behind the scenes. 

"We are just in the right time, " whispered Mr. Peterkin to his family;"they are going upon the stage; we must fall into line. " The little boyshad their feather-dusters ready. Some words from one of the managersmade Peterkin understand the situation. 

"We are going to be introduced to Mr. Dickens, " he said. 

"I thought he was dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin trembling. 

"Authors live forever!" said Agamemnon in her ear. 

At this moment they were ushered upon the stage. The stage managerglared at them, as he awaited their names for introduction, while theycame up all unannounced, --a part of the programme not expected. But heuttered the words upon his lips, "Great Expectations;" and the Peterkinfamily swept across the stage with the rest: Mr. Peterkin costumed asPeter the Great, Mrs. Peterkin as Cleopatra, Agamemnon as Noah, SolomonJohn as Christopher Columbus, Elizabeth Eliza in yellow flannel as Mrs. Shem, with a large, old-fashioned bonnet on her head as Mrs. Columbus, and the little boys behind as two doves and a raven. 

Across the stage, in face of all the assembled people, then followingthe rest down the stairs on the other side, in among the audience, theywent; but into an audience not dressed in costume!

There were Ann Maria Bromwick and the Osbornes, --all the neighbors, --allas natural as though they were walking the streets at home, though AnnMaria did wear white gloves. 

"I had no idea you were to appear in character, " said Ann Maria toElizabeth Eliza; "to what booth do you belong?"

"We are no particular author, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Ah, I see, a sort of varieties' booth, " said Mr. Osborne. 

"What is your character?" asked Ann Maria of Elizabeth Eliza. 

"I have not quite decided, " said Elizabeth Eliza. "I thought I shouldfind out after I came here. The marshal called us 'Great Expectations. '"

Mrs. Peterkin was at the summit of bliss. "I have shaken hands withDickens!" she exclaimed. 

But she looked round to ask the little boys if they, too, had shakenhands with the great man, but not a little boy could she find. 

They had been swept off in Mother Goose's train, which had lingered onthe steps to see the Dickens reception, with which the procession ofcharacters in costume had closed. At this moment they were dancinground the barberry bush, in a corner of the balcony in Mother Goose'squarters, their feather-dusters gayly waving in the air. 

But Mrs. Peterkin, far below, could not see this, and consoled herselfwith the thought, they should all meet on the stage in the grand closingtableau. She was bewildered by the crowds which swept her hither andthither. At last she found herself in the Whittier Booth, and sat a longtime calmly there. As Cleopatra she seemed out of place, but as her owngrandmother she answered well with its New England scenery. 

Solomon John wandered about, landing in America whenever he found achance to enter a booth. Once before an admiring audience he set up hisegg in the centre of the Goethe Booth, which had been deserted by itscommittee for the larger stage. 

Agamemnon frequently stood in the background of scenes in the ArabianNights. 

It was with difficulty that the family could be repressed from goingon the stage whenever the bugle sounded for the different groupsrepresented there. 

Elizabeth Eliza came near appearing in the "Dream of Fair Women, " at itsmost culminating point. 

Mr. Peterkin found himself with the "Cricket on the Hearth, " in theDickens Booth. He explained that he was Peter the Great, but always inthe Russian language, which was never understood. 

Elizabeth Eliza found herself, in turn, in all the booths. Every managerwas puzzled by her appearance, and would send her to some other, and shepassed along, always trying to explain that she had not yet decided uponher character. 

Mr. Peterkin came and took Cleopatra from the Whittier Booth. 

"I cannot understand, " he said, "why none of our friends are dressed incostume, and why we are. "

"I rather like it, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "though I should be betterpleased if I could form a group with some one. "

The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join theperformers. It was the dance of her youth. 

But she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to thestage. 

"I cannot understand this company, " he said, distractedly. 

"They cannot find their booth, " said another. 

"That is the case, " said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated. 

"Perhaps you had better pass into the corridor, " said a polite marshal. 

They did this, and, walking across, found themselves in therefreshment-room. 

"This is the booth for us, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Indeed it is, " said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair, exhausted. 

At this moment two doves and a raven appeared, --the little boys, who hadbeen dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came downfor ice-cream. 

"I hardly know how to sit down, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "for I am sureMrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I willventure it. "

Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged ina row, calmly eating ice-cream. 

"I think the truth is, " said Mr. Peterkin, "that we represent historicalpeople, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. Thatis, I observe, what the others are. We shall know better another time. "

"If we only ever get home, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "I shall not wish tocome again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and itis so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and goinground and round in this way. "

"I am afraid we shall never reach home, " said Agamemnon, who had beensilent for some time; "we may have to spend the night here. I find Ihave lost our checks for our clothes in the cloak-room!"

"Spend the night in a booth, in Cleopatra's turban!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. 

"We should like to come every night, " cried the little boys. 

"But to spend the night, " repeated Mrs. Peterkin. 

"I conclude the Carnival keeps up all night, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"But never to recover our cloaks, " said Mrs. Peterkin; "could not thelittle boys look round for the checks on the floors?"

She began to enumerate the many valuable things that they might neversee again. 

She had worn her large fur cape of stone-marten, --her grandmother's, --thatElizabeth Eliza had been urging her to have made into a foot-rug. Nowhow she wished she had! And there were Mr. Peterkin's new overshoes, and Agamemnon had brought an umbrella, and the little boys had theirmittens. Their india-rubber boots, fortunately, they had on, in thecharacter of birds. But Solomon John had worn a fur cap, and ElizabethEliza a muff. Should they lose all these valuables entirely, and go homein the cold without them? No, it would be better to wait till everybodyhad gone, and then look carefully over the floors for the checks; ifonly the little boys could know where Agamemnon had been, they werewilling to look. Mr. Peterkin was not sure as they would have time toreach the train. 

Still, they would need something to wear, and he could not tell thetime. He had not brought his watch. It was a Waltham watch, and hethought it would not be in character for Peter the Great to wear it. 

At this moment the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" were heard from theband, and people were seen preparing to go. 

"All can go home, but we must stay, " said Mrs. Peterkin, gloomily, asthe well-known strains floated in from the larger hall. 

A number of marshals came to the refreshment-room, looked at them, whispered to each other, as the Peterkins sat in a row. 

"Can we do anything for you?" asked one at last. "Would you not like togo?" He seemed eager they should leave the room. 

Mr. Peterkin explained that they could not go, as they had lost thechecks for their wraps, and hoped to find their checks on the floor wheneverybody was gone. The marshal asked if they could not describewhat they had worn, in which case the loss of the checks was not soimportant, as the crowds had now almost left, and it would not bedifficult to identify their wraps. Mrs. Peterkin eagerly declared shecould describe every article. 

It was astonishing how the marshals hurried them through the quicklydeserted corridors, how gladly they recovered their garments! Mrs. Peterkin, indeed, was disturbed by the eagerness of the marshals; shefeared they had some pretext for getting the family out of the hall. Mrs. Peterkin was one of those who never consent to be forced toanything. She would not be compelled to go home, even with strains ofmusic. She whispered her suspicions to Mr. Peterkin; but Agamemnon camehastily up to announce the time, which he had learned from the clockin the large hall. They must leave directly if they wished to catch thelatest train, as there was barely time to reach it. 

Then, indeed, was Mrs. Peterkin ready to leave. If they should miss thetrain!

If she should have to pass the night in the streets in her turban! Shewas the first to lead the way, and, panting, the family followed her, just in time to take the train as it was leaving the station. 

The excitement was not yet over. They found in the train many of theirfriends and neighbors, returning also from the Carnival; so they hadmany questions put to them which they were unable to answer. Still Mrs. Peterkin's turban was much admired, and indeed the whole appearanceof the family; so that they felt themselves much repaid for theirexertions. 

But more adventures awaited them. They left the train with theirfriends; but as Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza were very tired, theywalked very slowly, and Solomon John and the little boys were senton with the pass-key to open the door. They soon returned with thestartling intelligence that it was not the right key, and they could notget in. It was Mr. Peterkin's office-key; he had taken it by mistake, orhe might have dropped the house-key in the cloak-room of the Carnival. 

"Must we go back?" sighed Mrs. Peterkin, in an exhausted voice. Morethan ever did Elizabeth Eliza regret that Agamemnon's invention in keyshad failed to secure a patent!

It was impossible to get into the house, for Amanda had been allowed togo and spend the night with a friend, so there was no use in ringing, though the little boys had tried it. 

"We can return to the station, " said Mr. Peterkin; "the rooms will bewarm, on account of the midnight train. We can, at least, think what weshall do next. "

At the station was one of their neighbors, proposing to take the NewYork midnight train, for it was now after eleven, and the train wentthrough at half-past. 

"I saw lights at the locksmith's over the way, as I passed, " he said;"why do not you send over to the young man there? He can get your dooropen for you. I never would spend the night here. "

Solomon John went over to "the young man, " who agreed to go up to thehouse as soon as he had closed the shop, fit a key, and open the door, and come back to them on his way home. Solomon John came back to thestation, for it was now cold and windy in the deserted streets. Thefamily made themselves as comfortable as possible by the stove, sendingSolomon John out occasionally to look for the young man. But somehowSolomon John missed him; the lights were out in the locksmith's shop, sohe followed along to the house, hoping to find him there. 

But he was not there! He came back to report. Perhaps the young man hadopened the door and gone on home. Solomon John and Agamemnon went backtogether, but they could not get in. Where was the young man? He hadlately come to town, and nobody knew where he lived, for on the returnof Solomon John and Agamemnon it had been proposed to go to the house ofthe young man. The night was wearing on. 

The midnight train had come and gone. The passengers who came and wentlooked with wonder at Mrs. Peterkin, nodding in her turban, as she satby the stove, on a corner of a long bench. At last the station-masterhad to leave, for a short rest. He felt obliged to lock up the station, but he promised to return at an early hour to release them. 

"Of what use, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "if we cannot even then get intoour own house?"

Mr. Peterkin thought the matter appeared bad, if the locksmith had lefttown. He feared the young man might have gone in, and helped himself tospoons, and left. 

Only they should have seen him if he had taken the midnight train. Solomon John thought he appeared honest. Mr. Peterkin only ventured towhisper his suspicions, as he did not wish to arouse Mrs. Peterkin, whostill was nodding in the corner of the long bench. 

Morning did come at last. The family decided to go to their home;perhaps by some effort in the early daylight they might make anentrance. 

On the way they met with the night-policeman, returning from his beat. He stopped when he saw the family. 

"Ah! that accounts, " he said; "you were all out last night, and theburglars took occasion to make a raid on your house. I caught a livelyyoung man in the very act; box of tools in his hand! If I had been aminute late he would have made his way in"--The family then tried tointerrupt--to explain--"Where is he?" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin. 

"Safe in the lock-up, " answered the policeman. 

"But he is the locksmith!" interrupted Solomon John. 

"We have no key!" said Elizabeth Eliza; "if you have locked up thelocksmith we can never get in. "

The policeman looked from one to the other, smiling slightly when heunderstood the case. 

"The locksmith!" he exclaimed; "he is a new fellow, and I did notrecognize him, and arrested him! Very well, I will go and let him out, that he may let you in!" and he hurried away, surprising the Peterkinfamily with what seemed like insulting screams of laughter. 

"It seems to me a more serious case than it appears to him, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

Mrs. Peterkin did not understand it at all. Had burglars entered thehouse? Did the policeman say they had taken spoons? And why did heappear so pleased? She was sure the old silver teapot was locked up inthe closet of their room. Slowly the family walked towards the house, and, almost as soon as they, the policeman appeared with the releasedlocksmith, and a few boys from the street, who happened to be out early. 

The locksmith was not in very good humor, and took ill the jokes of thepoliceman. Mr. Peterkin, fearing he might not consent to open the door, pressed into his hand a large sum of money. The door flew open; thefamily could go in. 

Amanda arrived at the same moment. There was hope of breakfast. Mrs. Peterkin staggered towards the stairs. "I shall never go to anothercarnival!" she exclaimed. 

THE PETERKINS AT THE FARM. 

YES, at last they had reached the seaside, after much talking anddeliberation, and summer after summer the journey had been constantlypostponed. 

But here they were at last, at the "Old Farm, " so called, where seasideattractions had been praised in all the advertisements. And here theywere to meet the Sylvesters, who knew all about the place, cousins ofAnn Maria Bromwick. Elizabeth Eliza was astonished not to find themthere, though she had not expected Ann Maria to join them till the verynext day. 

Their preparations had been so elaborate that at one time the wholething had seemed hopeless; yet here they all were. Their trunks, to besure, had not arrived; but the wagon was to be sent back for them, and, wonderful to tell, they had all their hand-baggage safe. 

Agamemnon had brought his Portable Electrical Machine and Apparatus, andthe volumes of the Encyclopędia that might tell him how to manage it, and Solomon John had his photograph camera. The little boys had usedtheir india-rubber boots as portmanteaux, filling them to the brim, andcarrying one in each hand, --a very convenient way for travelling theyconsidered it; but they found on arriving (when they wanted to put theirboots directly on for exploration round the house), that it was somewhatinconvenient to have to begin to unpack directly, and scarcely roomenough could be found for all the contents in the small chamber allottedto them. 

There was no room in the house for the electrical machine and camera. Elizabeth Eliza thought the other boarders were afraid of the machinegoing off; so an out-house was found for them, where Agamemnon andSolomon John could arrange them. 

Mrs. Peterkin was much pleased with the old-fashioned porch andlow-studded rooms, though the sleeping-rooms seemed a little stuffy atfirst. 

Mr. Peterkin was delighted with the admirable order in which the farmwas evidently kept. From the first moment he arrived he gave himselfto examining the well-stocked stables and barns, and the fields andvegetable gardens, which were shown to him by a highly intelligentperson, a Mr. Atwood, who devoted himself to explaining to Mr. Peterkinall the details of methods in the farming. 

The rest of the family were disturbed at being so far from the sea, whenthey found it would take nearly all the afternoon to reach the beach. The advertisements had surely stated that the "Old Farm" was directly onthe shore, and that sea-bathing would be exceedingly convenient; whichwas hardly the case if it took you an hour and a half to walk to it. 

Mr. Peterkin declared there were always such discrepancies between theadvertisements of seaside places and the actual facts; but he was morethan satisfied with the farm part, and was glad to remain and admire it, while the rest of the family went to find the beach, starting off in awagon large enough to accommodate them, Agamemnon driving the one horse. 

Solomon John had depended upon taking the photographs of the family ina row on the beach; but he decided not to take his camera out the firstafternoon. 

This was well, as the sun was already setting when they reached thebeach. 

"If this wagon were not so shaky, " said Mrs. Peterkin "we might driveover every morning for our bath. The road is very straight, and Isuppose Agamemnon can turn on the beach. "

"We should have to spend the whole day about it, " said Solomon John, ina discouraged tone, "unless we can have a quicker horse. "

"Perhaps we should prefer that, " said Elizabeth Eliza, a littlegloomily, "to staying at the house. "

She had been a little disturbed to find there were not more elegant andfashionable-looking boarders at the farm, and she was disappointed thatthe Sylvesters had not arrived, who would understand the ways of theplace. Yet, again, she was somewhat relieved, for if their trunks didnot come till the next day, as was feared, she should have nothing buther travelling dress to wear, which would certainly answer for to-night. 

She had been busy all the early summer in preparing her dresses forthis very watering-place, and, as far as appeared, she would hardly needthem, and was disappointed to have no chance to display them. But ofcourse, when the Sylvesters and Ann Maria came, all would be different;but they would surely be wasted on the two old ladies she had seen, andon the old men who had lounged about the porch; there surely was not agentleman among them. 

Agamemnon assured her she could not tell at the seaside, as gentlemenwore their exercise dress, and took a pride in going around in shockinghats and flannel suits. Doubtless they would be dressed for dinner ontheir return. 

On their arrival they had been shown to a room to have their meals bythemselves, and could not decide whether they were eating dinner orlunch. There was a variety of meat, vegetables, and pie, that might comeunder either name; but Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin were well pleased. 

"I had no idea we should have really farm-fare, " Mrs. Peterkin said. "Ihave not drunk such a tumbler of milk since I was young. "

Elizabeth Eliza concluded they ought not to judge from a first meal, asevidently their arrival had not been fully prepared for, in spite of thenumerous letters that had been exchanged. 

The little boys were, however, perfectly satisfied from the moment oftheir arrival, and one of them had stayed at the farm, declining to goto the beach, as he wished to admire the pigs, cows, and horses; and allthe way over to the beach the other little boys were hopping in and outof the wagon, which never went too fast, to pick long mullein-stalks, for whips to urge on the reluctant horse with, or to gatherhuckleberries, with which they were rejoiced to find the fields werefilled, although, as yet, the berries were very green. 

They wanted to stay longer on the beach, when they finally reached it;but Mrs. 

Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza insisted upon turning directly back, as itwas not fair to be late to dinner the very first night. 

On the whole the party came back cheerful, yet hungry. They found thesame old men, in the same costume, standing against the porch. 

"A little seedy, I should say, " said Solomon John. 

"Smoking pipes, " said Agamemnon; "I believe that is the latest style. "

"The smell of their tobacco is not very agreeable, " Mrs. Peterkin wasforced to say. 

There seemed the same uncertainty on their arrival as to where they wereto be put, and as to their meals. 

Elizabeth Eliza tried to get into conversation with the old ladies, whowere wandering in and out of a small sitting-room. But one of them wasvery deaf, and the other seemed to be a foreigner. She discovered froma moderately tidy maid, by the name of Martha, who seemed a sort offactotum, that there were other ladies in their rooms, too much ofinvalids to appear. 

"Regular bed-ridden, " Martha had described them, which Elizabeth Elizadid not consider respectful. 

Mr. Peterkin appeared coming down the slope of the hill behind thehouse, very cheerful. He had made the tour of the farm, and found it inadmirable order. 

Elizabeth Eliza felt it time to ask Martha about the next meal, andventured to call it supper, as a sort of compromise between dinner andtea. If dinner were expected she might offend by taking it for grantedthat it was to be "tea, " and if they were unused to a late dinner theymight be disturbed if they had only provided a "tea. "

So she asked what was the usual hour for supper, and was surprised whenMartha replied, "The lady must say, " nodding to Mrs. Peterkin. "She canhave it just when she wants, and just what she wants!"

This was an unexpected courtesy. 

Elizabeth Eliza asked when the others had their supper. 

"Oh, they took it a long time ago, " Martha answered. "If the lady willgo out into the kitchen she can tell what she wants. "

"Bring us in what you have, " said Mr. Peterkin, himself quite hungry. "If you could cook us a fresh slice of beefsteak that would be well. "

"Perhaps some eggs, " murmured Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Scrambled, " cried one of the little boys. 

"Fried potatoes would not be bad, " suggested Agamemnon. 

"Couldn't we have some onions?" asked the little boy who had stayedat home, and had noticed the odor of onions when the others had theirsupper. 

"A pie would come in well, " said Solomon John. 

"And some stewed cherries, " said the other little boy. 

Martha fell to laying the table, and the family was much pleased, when, in the course of time, all the dishes they had recommended appeared. Their appetites were admirable, and they pronounced the food the same. 

"This is true Arab hospitality, " said Mr. Peterkin, as he cut his juicybeefsteak. 

"I know it, " said Elizabeth Eliza, whose spirits began to rise. "We havenot even seen the host and hostess. "

She would, indeed, have been glad to find some one to tell her when theSylvesters were expected, and why they had not arrived. Her room was inthe wing, far from that of Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin, and near the aged deafand foreign ladies, and she was kept awake for some time by perplexedthoughts. 

She was sure the lady from Philadelphia, under such circumstances, wouldhave written to somebody. But ought she to write to Ann Maria or theSylvesters? And, if she did write, which had she better write to? Shefully determined to write, the first thing in the morning, to bothparties. But how should she address her letters? Would there be any usein sending to the Sylvesters' usual address, which she knew well by thistime, merely to say they had not come? Of course the Sylvesters wouldknow they had not come. It would be the same with Ann Maria. 

She might, indeed, inclose her letters to their several postmasters. Postmasters were always so obliging, and always knew where people weregoing to, and where to send their letters. She might, at least, writetwo letters, to say that they--the Peterkins--had arrived, and weredisappointed not to find the Sylvesters. And she could add that theirtrunks had not arrived, and perhaps their friends might look out forthem on their way. It really seemed a good plan to write. Yetanother question came up, as to how she would get her letters to thepost-office, as she had already learned it was at quite a distance, andin a different direction from the station, where they were to send thenext day for their trunks. 

She went over and over these same questions, kept awake by the coughingand talking of her neighbors, the other side of the thin partition. 

She was scarcely sorry to be aroused from her uncomfortable sleep by themorning sounds of guinea-hens, peacocks, and every other kind of fowl. 

Mrs. Peterkin expressed her satisfaction at the early breakfast, anddeclared she was delighted with such genuine farm sounds. 

They passed the day much as the afternoon before, reaching the beachonly in time to turn round to come back for their dinner, which wasappointed at noon. 

Mrs. Peterkin was quite satisfied. "Such a straight road, and the beachsuch a safe place to turn round upon!"

Elizabeth Eliza was not so well pleased. A wagon had been sent to thestation for their trunks, which could not be found; they were probablyleft at the Boston station, or, Mr. Atwood suggested, might have beenswitched off upon one of the White Mountain trains. There was no use towrite any letters, as there was no way to send them. Elizabeth Eliza nowalmost hoped the Sylvesters would not come, for what should she do ifthe trunks did not come and all her new dresses? On her way over to thebeach she had been thinking what she should do with her new foulard andcream-colored surah if the Sylvesters did not come, and if their timewas spent in only driving to the beach and back. But now, she wouldprefer that the Sylvesters would not come till the dresses and thetrunks did. All she could find out, from inquiry, on returning, was, "that another lot was expected on Saturday. " The next day shesuggested:--"Suppose we take our dinner with us to the beach, and spendthe day. " The Sylvesters and Ann Maria then would find them on thebeach, where her travelling-dress would be quite appropriate. "I am alittle tired, " she added, "of going back and forward over the same road;but when the rest come we can vary it. "

The plan was agreed to, but Mr. Peterkin and the little boys remained togo over the farm again. 

They had an excellent picnic on the beach, under the shadow of a ledgeof sand. 

They were just putting up their things when they saw a party of peopleapproaching from the other end of the beach. 

"I am glad to see some pleasant-looking people at last, " said ElizabethEliza, and they all turned to walk toward them. 

As the other party drew near she recognized Ann Maria Bromwick! And withher were the Sylvesters, --so they proved to be, for she had never seenthem before. 

"What! you have come in our absence!" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And we have been wondering what had become of you!" cried Ann Maria. 

"I thought you would be at the farm before us, " said Elizabeth Eliza toMr. 

Sylvester, to whom she was introduced. 

"We have been looking for you at the farm, " he was saying to her. 

"But we are at the farm, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And so are we!" said Ann Maria. 

"We have been there two days, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"And so have we, at the 'Old Farm, ' just at the end of the beach, " saidAnn Maria. 

"Our farm is old enough, " said Solomon John. 

"Whereabouts are you?" asked Mr. Sylvester. 

Elizabeth Eliza pointed to the road they had come. 

A smile came over Mr. Sylvester's face; he knew the country well. 

"You mean the farm-house behind the hill, at the end of the road?" heasked. 

The Peterkins all nodded affirmatively. 

Ann Maria could not restrain herself, as broad smiles came over thefaces of all the party. 

"Why, that is the Poor-house!" she exclaimed. 

"The town farm, " Mr. Sylvester explained, deprecatingly. 

The Peterkins were silent for a while. The Sylvesters tried not tolaugh. 

"There certainly were some disagreeable old men and women there!" saidElizabeth Eliza, at last. 

"But we have surely been made very comfortable, " Mrs. Peterkin declared. 

"A very simple mistake, " said Mr. Sylvester, continuing his amusement. "Your trunks arrived all right at the 'Old Farm, ' two days ago. "

"Let us go back directly, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"As directly as our horse will allow, " said Agamemnon. 

Mr. Sylvester helped them into the wagon. "Your rooms are awaiting you, "he said. "Why not come with us?"

"We want to find Mr. Peterkin before we do anything else, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

They rode back in silence, till Elizabeth Eliza said, "Do you supposethey took us for paupers?"

"We have not seen any 'they, '" said Solomon John, "except Mr. Atwood. "

At the entrance of the farm-yard Mr. Peterkin met them. 

"I have been looking for you, " he said. "I have just made a discovery. "

"We have made it, too, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "we are in thepoor-house. "

"How did you find it out?" Mrs. Peterkin asked of Mr. Peterkin. 

"Mr. Atwood came to me, puzzled with a telegram that had been brought tohim from the station, which he ought to have got two days ago. It camefrom a Mr. Peters, whom they were expecting here this week, with hiswife and boys, to take charge of the establishment. He telegraphed tosay he cannot come till Friday. Now, Mr. Atwood had supposed we were thePeterses, whom he had sent for the day we arrived, not having receivedthis telegram. "

"Oh, I see, I see!" said Mrs. Peterkin; "and we did get into a muddle atthe station!"

Mr. Atwood met them at the porch. "I beg pardon, " he said. "I hope youhave found it comfortable here, and shall be glad to have you stay tillMr. Peters' family comes. "

At this moment wheels were heard. Mr. Sylvester had arrived, with anopen wagon, to take the Peterkins to the "Old Farm. "

Martha was waiting within the door, and said to Elizabeth Eliza, "Begpardon, miss, for thinking you was one of the inmates, and putting youin that room. We thought it so kind of Mrs. Peters to take you off everyday with the other gentlemen, that looked so wandering. "

Elizabeth Eliza did not know whether to laugh or to cry. 

Mr. Peterkin and the little boys decided to stay at the farm tillFriday. But Agamemnon and Solomon John preferred to leave with Mr. Sylvester, and to take their electrical machine and camera when theycame for Mr. Peterkin. 

Mrs. Peterkin was tempted to stay another night, to be wakened once moreby the guinea-hens. But Elizabeth Eliza bore her off. There was not muchpacking to be done. She shouted good-by into the ears of the deaf oldlady, and waved her hand to the foreign one, and glad to bid farewell tothe old men with their pipes, leaning against the porch. 

"This time, " she said, "it is not our trunks that were lost"

"But we, as a family, " said Mrs. Peterkin.