THE LAST OF THE PETERKINS, With Others of their kin. 

 BY LUCRETIA P. HALE. 

 * * * * *

 BOSTON: LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 1906. 

 _Copyright, 1886_, BY ROBERTS BROTHERS. Printers S. J. PARKHILL & CO. , BOSTON, U. S. A. 

 TO

 THE LADY FROM PHILADELPHIA, BELOVED BY THE PETERKIN FAMILY, This Book is Dedicated. 

 * * * * *

PREFACE. 

The following Papers contain the last records of the Peterkin Family, who unhappily ventured to leave their native land and have neverreturned. Elizabeth Eliza's Commonplace Book has been found among thefamily papers, and will be published here for the first time. It isevident that she foresaw that the family were ill able to contend withthe commonplace struggle of life; and we may not wonder that they couldnot survive the unprecedented, far away from the genial advice offriends, especially that of the Lady from Philadelphia. 

It is feared that Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin lost their lives after leavingTobolsk, perhaps in some vast conflagration. 

Agamemnon and Solomon John were probably sacrificed in some effort tojoin in or control the disturbances which arose in the distant placeswhere they had established themselves, --Agamemnon in Madagascar, SolomonJohn in Rustchuk. 

The little boys have merged into men in some German university, whileElizabeth Eliza must have been lost in the mazes of the Russian language. 

 * * * * *

CONTENTS. 

The Last of the Peterkins. 

CHAPTER

 I. ELIZABETH ELIZA WRITES A PAPER

 II. ELIZABETH ELIZA'S COMMONPLACE-BOOK

 III. THE PETERKINS PRACTISE TRAVELLING

 IV. THE PETERKINS' EXCURSION FOR MAPLE SUGAR

 V. THE PETERKINS "AT HOME"

 VI. MRS. PETERKIN IN EGYPT

 VII. MRS. PETERKIN FAINTS ON THE GREAT PYRAMID

 VIII. THE LAST OF THE PETERKINS

Others of their Kin. 

 IX. LUCILLA'S DIARY

 X. JEDIDIAH'S NOAH'S ARK

 XI. CARRIE'S THREE WISHES

 XII. "WHERE CAN THOSE BOYS BE?"

 XIII. A PLACE FOR OSCAR

 XIV. THE FIRST NEEDLE

 * * * * *

THE LAST OF THE PETERKINS. 

I. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA WRITES A PAPER. 

Elizabeth Eliza joined the Circumambient Club with the idea that itwould be a long time before she, a new member, would have to read apaper. She would have time to hear the other papers read, and to see howit was done; and she would find it easy when her turn came. By that timeshe would have some ideas; and long before she would be called upon, she would have leisure to sit down and write out something. But a yearpassed away, and the time was drawing near. She had, meanwhile, devotedherself to her studies, and had tried to inform herself on all subjectsby way of preparation. She had consulted one of the old members of theClub as to the choice of a subject. 

"Oh, write about anything, " was the answer, --"anything you have beenthinking of. "

Elizabeth Eliza was forced to say she had not been thinking lately. Shehad not had time. The family had moved, and there was always anexcitement about something, that prevented her sitting down to think. 

"Why not write out your family adventures?" asked the old member. 

Elizabeth Eliza was sure her mother would think it made them too public;and most of the Club papers, she observed, had some thought in them. Shepreferred to find an idea. 

[Illustration: Elizabeth Eliza writes a paper. ]

So she set herself to the occupation of thinking. She went out onthe piazza to think; she stayed in the house to think. She tried acorner of the china-closet. She tried thinking in the cars, and lost herpocket-book; she tried it in the garden, and walked into the strawberrybed. In the house and out of the house, it seemed to be the same, --shecould not think of anything to think of. For many weeks she was seensitting on the sofa or in the window, and nobody disturbed her. "She isthinking about her paper, " the family would say, but she only knew thatshe could not think of anything. 

Agamemnon told her that many writers waited till the last moment, wheninspiration came which was much finer than anything studied. ElizabethEliza thought it would be terrible to wait till the last moment, if theinspiration should not come! She might combine the two ways, --wait tilla few days before the last, and then sit down and write anyhow. Thiswould give a chance for inspiration, while she would not run the riskof writing nothing. 

She was much discouraged. Perhaps she had better give it up? But, no;everybody wrote a paper: if not now, she would have to do it sometime!

And at last the idea of a subject came to her! But it was as hard tofind a moment to write as to think. The morning was noisy, till thelittle boys had gone to school; for they had begun again upon theirregular course, with the plan of taking up the study of cider inOctober. And after the little boys had gone to school, now it was onething, now it was another, --the china-closet to be cleaned, or one ofthe neighbors in to look at the sewing-machine. She tried after dinner, but would fall asleep. She felt that evening would be the true time, after the cares of day were over. 

The Peterkins had wire mosquito-nets all over the house, --at every doorand every window. They were as eager to keep out the flies as themosquitoes. The doors were all furnished with strong springs, thatpulled the doors to as soon as they were opened. The little boys hadpractised running in and out of each door, and slamming it after them. This made a good deal of noise, for they had gained great success inmaking one door slam directly after another, and at times would keep upa running volley of artillery, as they called it, with the slamming ofthe doors. Mr. Peterkin, however, preferred it to flies. 

So Elizabeth Eliza felt she would venture to write of a summer eveningwith all the windows open. 

She seated herself one evening in the library, between two largekerosene lamps, with paper, pen, and ink before her. It was a beautifulnight, with the smell of the roses coming in through the mosquito-nets, and just the faintest odor of kerosene by her side. She began upon herwork. But what was her dismay! She found herself immediately surroundedwith mosquitoes. They attacked her at every point. They fell upon herhand as she moved it to the inkstand; they hovered, buzzing, over herhead; they planted themselves under the lace of her sleeve. If she movedher left hand to frighten them off from one point, another band fixedthemselves upon her right hand. Not only did they flutter and sting, butthey sang in a heathenish manner, distracting her attention as she triedto write, as she tried to waft them off. Nor was this all. Myriads ofJune-bugs and millers hovered round, flung themselves into the lamps, and made disagreeable funeral-pyres of themselves, tumbling noisily onher paper in their last unpleasant agonies. Occasionally one darted witha rush toward Elizabeth Eliza's head. 

If there was anything Elizabeth Eliza had a terror of, it was aJune-bug. She had heard that they had a tendency to get into the hair. One had been caught in the hair of a friend of hers, who had longluxuriant hair. But the legs of the June-bug were caught in it likefish-hooks, and it had to be cut out, and the June-bug was onlyextricated by sacrificing large masses of the flowing locks. 

Elizabeth Eliza flung her handkerchief over her head. Could shesacrifice what hair she had to the claims of literature? She gave a cryof dismay. 

The little boys rushed in a moment to the rescue. They flappednewspapers, flung sofa-cushions; they offered to stand by her sidewith fly-whisks, that she might be free to write. But the strugglewas too exciting for her, and the flying insects seemed to increase. Moths of every description--large brown moths, small, delicate whitemillers--whirled about her, while the irritating hum of the mosquitokept on more than ever. Mr. Peterkin and the rest of the family came into inquire about the trouble. It was discovered that each of the littleboys had been standing in the opening of a wire door for some time, watching to see when Elizabeth Eliza would have made her preparationsand would begin to write. Countless numbers of dorbugs and wingedcreatures of every description had taken occasion to come in. It wasfound that they were in every part of the house. 

"We might open all the blinds and screens, " suggested Agamemnon, "andmake a vigorous onslaught and drive them all out at once. "

"I do believe there are more inside than out now, " said Solomon John. 

"The wire nets, of course, " said Agamemnon, "keep them in now. "

"We might go outside, " proposed Solomon John, "and drive in all that areleft. Then to-morrow morning, when they are all torpid, kill them andmake collections of them. "

Agamemnon had a tent which he had provided in case he should ever go tothe Adirondacks, and he proposed using it for the night. The little boyswere wild for this. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought she and Elizabeth Eliza would prefer trying tosleep in the house. But perhaps Elizabeth Eliza would go on with herpaper with more comfort out of doors. 

A student's lamp was carried out, and she was established on the stepsof the back piazza, while screens were all carefully closed to preventthe mosquitoes and insects from flying out. But it was of no use. Therewere outside still swarms of winged creatures that plunged themselvesabout her, and she had not been there long before a huge miller flunghimself into the lamp and put it out. She gave up for the evening. 

Still the paper went on. "How fortunate, " exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza, "that I did not put it off till the last evening!" Having once begun, she persevered in it at every odd moment of the day. Agamemnon presentedher with a volume of "Synonymes, " which was of great service to her. Sheread her paper, in its various stages, to Agamemnon first, for hiscriticism, then to her father in the library, then to Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin together, next to Solomon John, and afterward to the wholefamily assembled. She was almost glad that the lady from Philadelphiawas not in town, as she wished it to be her own unaided production. Shedeclined all invitations for the week before the night of the club, andon the very day she kept her room with _eau sucrée_, that she mightsave her voice. Solomon John provided her with Brown's Bronchial Trocheswhen the evening came, and Mrs. Peterkin advised a handkerchief over herhead, in case of June-bugs. It was, however, a cool night. Agamemnonescorted her to the house. 

The Club met at Ann Maria Bromwick's. No gentlemen were admitted to theregular meetings. There were what Solomon John called "occasional annualmeetings, " to which they were invited, when all the choicest papers ofthe year were re-read. 

Elizabeth Eliza was placed at the head of the room, at a small table, with a brilliant gas-jet on one side. It was so cool the windows couldbe closed. Mrs. Peterkin, as a guest, sat in the front row. 

This was her paper, as Elizabeth Eliza read it, for she frequentlyinserted fresh expressions:--

THE SUN. 

It is impossible that much can be known about it. This is why wehave taken it up as a subject. We mean the sun that lights us byday and leaves us by night. In the first place, it is so far off. No measuring-tapes could reach it; and both the earth and the sun aremoving about so, that it would be difficult to adjust ladders to reachit, if we could. Of course, people have written about it, and there arethose who have told us how many miles off it is. But it is a very largenumber, with a great many figures in it; and though it is taught in mostif not all of our public schools, it is a chance if any one of thescholars remembers exactly how much it is. 

It is the same with its size. We cannot, as we have said, reach itby ladders to measure it; and if we did reach it, we should have nomeasuring-tapes large enough, and those that shut up with springs aredifficult to use in a high place. We are told, it is true, in a greatmany of the school-books, the size of the sun; but, again, very few ofthose who have learned the number have been able to remember it afterthey have recited it, even if they remembered it then. And almost all ofthe scholars have lost their school-books, or have neglected to carrythem home, and so they are not able to refer to them, --I mean, afterleaving school. I must say that is the case with me, I should say withus, though it was different. The older ones gave their school-books tothe younger ones, who took them back to school to lose them, or who havedestroyed them when there were no younger ones to go to school. I shouldsay there are such families. What I mean is, the fact that in somefamilies there are no younger children to take off the school-books. Buteven then they are put away on upper shelves, in closets or in attics, and seldom found if wanted, --if then, dusty. 

Of course, we all know of a class of persons called astronomers, whomight be able to give us information on the subject in hand, and whoprobably do furnish what information is found in school-books. It shouldbe observed, however, that these astronomers carry on their observationsalways in the night. Now, it is well known that the sun does not shinein the night. Indeed, that is one of the peculiarities of the night, that there is no sun to light us, so we have to go to bed as long asthere is nothing else we can do without its light, unless we use lamps, gas, or kerosene, which is very well for the evening, but would beexpensive all night long; the same with candles. How, then, can wedepend upon their statements, if not made from their own observation?--Imean, if they never saw the sun?

We cannot expect that astronomers should give us any valuableinformation with regard to the sun, which they never see, theiroccupation compelling them to be up at night. It is quite likely thatthey never see it; for we should not expect them to sit up all day aswell as all night, as, under such circumstances, their lives would notlast long. 

Indeed, we are told that their name is taken from the word _aster_, which means "star;" the word is "aster--know--more. " This, doubtless, means that they know more about the stars than other things. We see, therefore, that their knowledge is confined to the stars, and we cannottrust what they have to tell us of the sun. 

There are other asters which should not be mixed up with these, --we meanthose growing by the wayside in the fall of the year. The astronomers, from their nocturnal habits, can scarcely be acquainted with them; butas it does not come within our province, we will not inquire. 

We are left, then, to seek our own information about the sun. But weare met with a difficulty. To know a thing, we must look at it. How canwe look at the sun? It is so very bright that our eyes are dazzled ingazing upon it. We have to turn away, or they would be put out, --thesight, I mean. It is true, we might use smoked glass, but that is apt tocome off on the nose. How, then, if we cannot look at it, can we findout about it? The noonday would seem to be the better hour, when it isthe sunniest; but, besides injuring the eyes, it is painful to the neckto look up for a long time. It is easy to say that our examination ofthis heavenly body should take place at sunrise, when we could look atit more on a level, without having to endanger the spine. But how manypeople are up at sunrise? Those who get up early do it because they arecompelled to, and have something else to do than look at the sun. 

The milkman goes forth to carry the daily milk, the ice-man to leavethe daily ice. But either of these would be afraid of exposing theirvehicles to the heating orb of day, --the milkman afraid of turning themilk, the ice-man timorous of melting his ice, --and they probably avoidthose directions where they shall meet the sun's rays. The student, whomight inform us, has been burning the midnight oil. The student is notin the mood to consider the early sun. 

There remains to us the evening, also, --the leisure hour of the day. But, alas! our houses are not built with an adaptation to this subject. They are seldom made to look toward the sunset. A careful inquiry andclose observation, such as have been called for in preparation of thispaper, have developed the fact that not a single house in this townfaces the sunset! There may be windows looking that way, but in such acase there is always a barn between. I can testify to this from personalobservations, because, with my brothers, we have walked through theseveral streets of this town with notebooks, carefully noting everyhouse looking upon the sunset, and have found none from which the sunsetcould be studied. Sometimes it was the next house, sometimes a row ofhouses, or its own wood-house, that stood in the way. 

Of course, a study of the sun might be pursued out of doors. But insummer, sunstroke would be likely to follow; in winter, neuralgia andcold. And how could you consult your books, your dictionaries, yourencyclopædias? There seems to be no hour of the day for studying thesun. You might go to the East to see it at its rising, or to the Westto gaze upon its setting, but--you don't. 

 * * * * *

Here Elizabeth Eliza came to a pause. She had written five differentendings, and had brought them all, thinking, when the moment came, she would choose one of them. She was pausing to select one, andinadvertently said, to close the phrase, "you don't. " She had not meantto use the expression, which she would not have thought sufficientlyimposing, --it dropped out unconsciously, --but it was received as a closewith rapturous applause. 

She had read slowly, and now that the audience applauded at such alength, she had time to feel she was much exhausted and glad of an end. Why not stop there, though there were some pages more? Applause, too, was heard from the outside. Some of the gentlemen had come, --Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, and Solomon John, with others, --and demandedadmission. 

"Since it is all over, let them in, " said Ann Maria Bromwick. 

Elizabeth Eliza assented, and rose to shake hands with her applaudingfriends. 

II. 

ELIZABETH ELIZA'S COMMONPLACE-BOOK. 

I am going to jot down, from time to time, any suggestions that occurto me that will be of use in writing another paper, in case I am calledupon. I might be asked unexpectedly for certain occasions, if anybodyhappened to be prevented from coming to a meeting. 

I have not yet thought of a subject, but I think that is not of as muchconsequence as to gather the ideas. It seems as if the ideas mightsuggest the subject, even if the subject does not suggest the ideas. 

Now, often a thought occurs to me in the midst, perhaps, of conversationwith others; but I forget it afterwards, and spend a great deal of timein trying to think what it was I was thinking of, which might have beenvery valuable. 

I have indeed, of late, been in the habit of writing such thoughts onscraps of paper, and have often left the table to record some idea thatoccurred to me; but, looking up the paper and getting ready to write it, the thought has escaped me. 

Then again, when I have written it, it has been on the backs ofenvelopes or the off sheet of a note, and it has been lost, perhapsthrown into the scrap-basket. Amanda is a little careless about suchthings; and, indeed, I have before encouraged her in throwing away oldenvelopes, which do not seem of much use otherwise, so perhaps she isnot to blame. 

 * * * * *

The more I think of it, the more does it seem to me there would be anadvantage if everybody should have the same number to their houses, --ofcourse not everybody, but everybody acquainted. It is so hard toremember all the numbers; the streets you are not so likely to forget. Friends might combine to have the same number. What made me think of itwas that we do have the same number as the Easterlys. To be sure, we areout of town, and they are in Boston; but it makes it so convenient, whenI go into town to see the Easterlys, to remember that their number isthe same as ours. 

 * * * * *

Agamemnon has lost his new silk umbrella. Yet the case was marked withhis name in full, and the street address and the town. Of course he leftthe case at home, going out in the rain. He might have carried it withthe address in his pocket, yet this would not have helped after losingthe umbrella. Why not have a pocket for the case in the umbrella?

 * * * * *

In shaking the dust from a dress, walk slowly backwards. This preventsthe dust from falling directly on the dress again. 

 * * * * *

On Carving Duck. --It is singular that I can never get so much off thebreast as other people do. 

Perhaps I have it set on wrong side up. 

 * * * * *

I wonder why they never have catalogues for libraries arranged from thelast letter of the name instead of the first. 

There is our Italian teacher whose name ends with a "j, " which I shouldremember much easier than the first letter, being so odd. 

 * * * * *

I cannot understand why a man should want to marry his wife's deceasedsister. If she is dead, indeed, how can he? And if he has a wife, howwrong! I am very glad there is a law against it. 

 * * * * *

It is well, in prosperity, to be brought up as though you were living inadversity; then, if you have to go back to adversity, it is all thesame. 

On the other hand, it might be as well, in adversity, to act as thoughyou were living in prosperity; otherwise, you would seem to lose theprosperity either way. 

 * * * * *

Solomon John has invented a new extinguisher. It is to represent a Turksmoking a pipe, which is to be hollow, and lets the smoke out. A verypretty idea!

 * * * * *

A bee came stumbling into my room this morning, as it has done everyspring since we moved here, --perhaps not the same bee. I think theremust have been a family bee-line across this place before ever a housewas built here, and the bees are trying for it every year. 

Perhaps we ought to cut a window opposite. 

There's room enough in the world for me and thee; go thou and troublesome one else, --as the man said when he put the fly out of the window. 

 * * * * *

Ann Maria thinks it would be better to fix upon a subject first; butthen she has never yet written a paper herself, so she does not realizethat you have to have some thoughts before you can write them. Sheshould think, she says, that I would write about something that I see. But of what use is it for me to write about what everybody is seeing, as long as they can see it as well as I do?

 * * * * *

The paper about emergencies read last week was one of the best I everheard; but, of course, it would not be worth while for me to write thesame, even if I knew enough. 

 * * * * *

My commonplace-book ought to show me what to do for common things; andthen I can go to lectures, or read the "Rules of Emergencies" for theuncommon ones. 

Because, as a family, I think we are more troubled about what to doon the common occasions than on the unusual ones. Perhaps because theunusual things don't happen to us, or very seldom; and for the uncommonthings, there is generally some one you can ask. 

I suppose there really is not as much danger about these uncommon thingsas there is in the small things, because they don't happen so often, andbecause you are more afraid of them. 

I never saw it counted up, but I conclude that more children tumble intomud-puddles than into the ocean or Niagara Falls, for instance. It wasso, at least, with our little boys; but that may have been partlybecause they never saw the ocean till last summer, and have never beento Niagara. To be sure, they had seen the harbor from the top of BunkerHill Monument, but there they could not fall in. They might have fallenoff from the top of the monument, but did not. I am sure, for our littleboys, they have never had the remarkable things happen to them. Isuppose because they were so dangerous that they did not try them, likefiring at marks and rowing boats. If they had used guns, they mighthave shot themselves or others; but guns have never been allowed in thehouse. My father thinks it is dangerous to have them. They might gooff unexpected. They would require us to have gunpowder and shot in thehouse, which would be dangerous. Amanda, too, is a little careless. And we never shall forget the terrible time when the "fulminating paste"went off one Fourth of July. It showed what might happen even if you didnot keep gunpowder in the house. 

To be sure, Agamemnon and Solomon John are older now, and might learnthe use of fire-arms; but even then they might shoot the wrongperson--the policeman or some friends coming into the house--instead ofthe burglar. 

And I have read of safe burglars going about. I don't know whether itmeans that it is safe for them or for us; I hope it is the latter. Perhaps it means that they go without fire-arms, making it safer forthem. 

 * * * * *

I have the "Printed Rules for Emergencies, " which will be of great use, as I should be apt to forget which to do for which. I mean I should bequite likely to do for burns and scalds what I ought to do for cramp. And when a person is choking, I might sponge from head to foot, whichis what I ought to do to prevent a cold. 

But I hope I shall not have a chance to practise. We have never had thecase of a broken leg, and it would hardly be worth while to break one onpurpose. 

Then we have had no cases of taking poison, or bites from mad dogs, perhaps partly because we don't keep either poison or dogs; but then ourneighbors might, and we ought to be prepared. We do keep cats, so thatwe do not need to have poison for the rats; and in this way we avoidboth dangers, --from the dogs going mad, and from eating the poison bymistake instead of the rats. 

To be sure, we don't quite get rid of the rats, and need a trap for themice; but if you have a good family cat it is safer. 

 * * * * *

About window-curtains--I mean the drapery ones--we have the same troublein deciding every year. We did not put any in the parlor windows when wemoved, only window-shades, because there were so many things to be done, and we wanted time to make up our minds as to what we would have. 

But that was years ago, and we have not decided yet, though we considerthe subject every spring and fall. 

The trouble is, if we should have heavy damask ones like the Bromwicks', it would be very dark in the winter, on account of the new, highbuilding opposite. 

Now, we like as much light as we can get in the winter, so we havealways waited till summer, thinking we would have some light muslinones, or else of the new laces. But in summer we like to have the roomdark, and the sun does get round in the morning quite dazzling on thewhite shades. (We might have dark-colored shades, but there would be thesame trouble of its being too dark in the winter. )

We seem to need the heavy curtains in summer and the light curtains inwinter, which would look odd. Besides, in winter we do need the heavycurtains to shut out the draughts, while in summer we like all the airwe can get. 

I have been looking for a material that shall shut out the air and yetlet in the light, or else shut out the light and let in the air; or elselet in the light when you want it, and not when you don't. I have notfound it yet; but there are so many new inventions that I dare say Ishall come across it in time. They seem to have invented everythingexcept a steamer that won't go up and down as well as across. 

 * * * * *

I never could understand about averages. I can't think why people are sofond of taking them, --men generally. It seems to me they tell anythingbut the truth. They try to tell what happens every evening, and theydon't tell one evening right. 

There was our Free Evening Cooking-school. We had a class of fourteengirls; and they admired it, and liked nothing better, and attendedregularly. But Ann Maria made out the report according to the average ofattendance on the whole number of nights in the ten weeks of the school, one evening a week; so she gave the numbers 12-3/5 each night. 

Now the fact was, they all came every night except one, when there wassuch a storm, nobody went, --not even the teacher, nor Ann Maria, nor anyof us. It snowed and it hailed and the wind blew, and our steps were soslippery Amanda could not go out to put on ashes; ice even on the uppersteps. The janitor, who makes the fire, set out to go; but she was blownacross the street, into the gutter. She did succeed in getting in to AnnMaria's, who said it was foolish to attempt it, and that nobody wouldgo; and I am not sure but she spent the night there, --at Ann Maria's, Imean. Still, Ann Maria had to make up the account of the number ofevenings of the whole course. 

But it looks, in the report, as though there were never the wholefourteen there, and as though 1-2/5 of a girl stayed away every night, when the facts are we did not have a single absence, and the wholefourteen were there every night, except the night there was no school;and I have been told they all had on their things to come that night, but their mothers would not let them, --those that had mothers, --and theywould have been blown away if they had come. 

It seems to me the report does not present the case right, on account ofthe averages. 

I think it is indeed the common things that trouble one to decide about, as I have said, since for the remarkable ones one can have advice. Theway we do on such occasions is to ask our friends, especially the ladyfrom Philadelphia. 

Whatever we should have done without her, I am sure I cannot tell, forher advice is always inestimable. To be sure, she is not always here;but there is the daily mail (twice from here to Boston), and thetelegraph, and to some places the telephone. 

But for some common things there is not time for even the telephone. 

 * * * * *

Yesterday morning, for instance, going into Boston in the early train, I took the right side for a seat, as is natural, though I noticed thatmost of the passengers were crowding into the seats on the other side. I found, as we left the station, that I was on the sunny side, which wasvery uncomfortable. So I made up my mind to change sides, coming out. But, unexpectedly, I stayed in till afternoon at Mrs. Easterly's. Itseems she had sent a note to ask me (which I found at night all right, when I got home), as Mr. Easterly was away. So I did not go out tillafternoon. I did remember my determination to change sides in going out, and as I took the right going in, not to take the right going out. Butthen I remembered, as it was afternoon, the sun would have changed; soif the right side was wrong in the morning, it would be right in theafternoon. At any rate, it would be safe to take the other side. I didobserve that most of the people took the opposite side, the left side;but I supposed they had not stopped to calculate. 

When we came out of the station and from under the bridges, I found Iwas sitting in the sun again, the same way as in the morning, in spiteof all my reasoning. Ann Maria, who had come late and taken the lastseat on the other side, turned round and called across to me, "Why doyou always take the sunny side? Do you prefer it?" I was sorry not toexplain it to her, but she was too far off. 

It might be safe to do what most of the other people do, when you cannotstop to inquire; but you cannot always tell, since very likely they maybe mistaken. And then if they have taken all the seats, there is notroom left for you. Still, this time, in coming out, I had reached thetrain in plenty of season, and might have picked out my seat, but thenthere was nobody there to show where most of the people would go. Imight have changed when I saw where most would go; but I hate changing, and the best seats were all taken. 

 * * * * *

My father thinks it would be a good plan for Amanda to go to theLectures on Physics. She has lived with us a great many years, and shestill breaks as many things as she did at the beginning. 

Dr. Murtrie, who was here the other night, said he learned when quite aboy, from some book on Physics, that if he placed some cold water in thebottom of a pitcher, before pouring in boiling-hot water, it would notbreak. Also, that in washing a glass or china pitcher in very hot water, the outside and inside should be in the hot water, or, as he said, should feel the hot water at the same time. I don't quite understandexactly how, unless the pitcher has a large mouth, when it might be putin sideways. 

He told the reasons, which, being scientific, I cannot remember orunderstand. 

If Amanda had known about this, she might have saved a great deal ofvaluable glass and china. Though it has not always been from hot water, the breaking, for I often think she has not the water hot enough; butoften from a whole tray-full sliding out of her hand, as she was comingup-stairs, and everything on it broke. 

But Dr. Murtrie said if she had learned more of the Laws of Physics shewould not probably so often tip over the waiter. 

The trouble is, however, remembering at the right time. She might haveknown the law perfectly well, and forgotten it just on the moment, orher dress coming in the way may have prevented. 

Still, I should like very well myself to go to the Lectures on Physics. Perhaps I could find out something about scissors, --why it is they doalways tumble down, and usually, though so heavy, without any noise, sothat you do not know that they have fallen. I should say they had nolaw, because sometimes they are far under the sofa in one direction, orhidden behind the leg of the table in another, or perhaps not even onthe floor, but buried in the groove at the back of the easy-chair, andyou never find them till you have the chair covered again. I do feelalways in the back of the chair now; but Amanda found mine, yesterday, in the groove of the sofa. 

 * * * * *

It is possible Elizabeth Eliza may have taken the remaining sheets ofher commonplace-book abroad with her. We have not been able to recoverthem. 

III. 

THE PETERKINS PRACTISE TRAVELLING. 

Long ago Mrs. Peterkin had been afraid of the Mohammedans, and wouldhave dreaded to travel among them; but since the little boys had takenlessons of the Turk, and she had become familiar with his costume andmethod of sitting, she had felt less fear of them as a nation. 

To be sure, the Turk had given but few lessons, as, soon after makinghis engagement, he had been obliged to go to New York to join atobacconist's firm. Mr. Peterkin had not regretted his payment forinstruction in advance; for the Turk had been very urbane in hismanners, and had always assented to whatever the little boys or any ofthe family had said to him. 

Mrs. Peterkin had expressed a desire to see the famous Cleopatra'sNeedle which had been brought from Egypt. She had heard it was somethinggigantic for a needle, and it would be worth a journey to New York. Shewondered at their bringing it such a distance, and would have supposedthat some of Cleopatra's family would have objected to it if they wereliving now. 

Agamemnon said that was the truth; there was no one left to object; theywere all mummies under ground, with such heavy pyramids over them thatthey would not easily rise to object. 

Mr. Peterkin feared that all the pyramids would be brought away in time. Agamemnon said there were a great many remaining in Egypt. Still, hethought it would be well to visit Egypt soon, before they were allbrought away, and nothing but the sand left. Mrs. Peterkin said shewould be almost as willing to travel to Egypt as to New York, and itwould seem more worth while to go so far to see a great many than to goto New York only for one needle. 

"That would certainly be a needless expense, " suggested Solomon John. 

Elizabeth Eliza was anxious to see the Sphinx. Perhaps it would answersome of the family questions that troubled them day after day. 

Agamemnon felt it would be a great thing for the education of the littleboys. If they could have begun with the Egyptian hieroglyphics beforethey had learned their alphabet, they would have begun at the right end. Perhaps it was not too late now to take them to Egypt, and let thembegin upon its old learning. The little boys declared it was none toolate. They could not say the alphabet backward now, and could neverremember whether _u_ came before _v_; and the voyage would bea long one, and before they reached Egypt, very likely they would haveforgotten all. 

It was about this voyage that Mrs. Peterkin had much doubt. What she wasafraid of was getting in and out of the ships and boats. She was afraidof tumbling into the water between, when she left the wharf. ElizabethEliza agreed with her mother in this, and began to calculate how manytimes they would have to change between Boston and Egypt. 

There was the ferry-boat across to East Boston would make two changes;one more to get on board the steamer; then Liverpool--no, to land atQueenstown would make two more, --four, five changes; Liverpool, six. Solomon John brought the map, and they counted up. Dover, seven; Calais, eight; Marseilles, nine; Malta, if they landed, ten, eleven; andAlexandria, twelve changes. 

Mrs. Peterkin shuddered at the possibilities, not merely for herself, but for the family. She could fall in but once, but by the time theyshould reach Egypt, how many would be left out of a family of eight?Agamemnon began to count up the contingencies. Eight times twelve wouldmake ninety-six chances (8 × 12 = 96). Mrs. Peterkin felt as if allmight be swept off before the end could be reached. 

Solomon John said it was not usual to allow more than one chance in ahundred. People always said "one in a hundred, " as though that were theusual thing expected. It was not at all likely that the whole familywould be swept off. 

Mrs. Peterkin was sure they would not want to lose one; they couldhardly pick out which they could spare, she felt certain. Agamemnondeclared there was no necessity for such risks. They might go directlyby some vessel from Boston to Egypt. 

Solomon John thought they might give up Egypt, and content themselveswith Rome. "All roads lead to Rome;" so it would not be difficult tofind their way. 

But Mrs. Peterkin was afraid to go. She had heard you must do as theRomans did if you went to Rome; and there were some things she certainlyshould not like to do that they did. There was that brute who killedCæsar! And she should not object to the long voyage. It would give themtime to think it all over. 

Mr. Peterkin thought they ought to have more practice in travelling, toaccustom themselves to emergencies. It would be fatal to start on solong a voyage and to find they were not prepared. Why not make theirproposed excursion to the cousins at Gooseberry Beach, which they hadbeen planning all summer? There they could practise getting in and outof a boat, and accustom themselves to the air of the sea. To be sure, the cousins were just moving up from the seashore, but they could takedown a basket of luncheon, in order to give no trouble, and they neednot go into the house. 

Elizabeth Eliza had learned by heart, early in the summer, the list oftrains, as she was sure they would lose the slip their cousins had sentthem; and you never could find the paper that had the trains in when youwanted it. They must take the 7 A. M. Train into Boston in time to goacross to the station for the Gooseberry train at 7. 45, and they wouldhave to return from Gooseberry Beach by a 3. 30 train. The cousins wouldorder the "barge" to meet them on their arrival, and to come for themat 3 P. M. , in time for the return train, if they were informed the daybefore. Elizabeth Eliza wrote them a postal card, giving them theinformation that they would take the early train. The "barge" was thename of the omnibus that took passengers to and from the Gooseberrystation. Mrs. Peterkin felt that its very name was propitious to thisEgyptian undertaking. 

The day proved a fine one. On reaching Boston, Mrs. Peterkin andElizabeth Eliza were put into a carriage with the luncheon-basket todrive directly to the station. Elizabeth Eliza was able to check thebasket at the baggage-station, and to buy their "go-and-return" ticketsbefore the arrival of the rest of the party, which appeared, however, some minutes before a quarter of eight. Mrs. Peterkin counted the littleboys. All were there. This promised well for Egypt. But their joy was ofshort duration. On presenting their tickets at the gate of entrance, they were stopped. The Gooseberry train had gone at 7. 35! The Mattapantrain was now awaiting its passengers. Impossible! Elizabeth Elizahad repeated 7. 45 every morning through the summer. It must be theGooseberry train. But the conductor would not yield. If they wished togo to Mattapan they could go; if to Gooseberry, they must wait till the5 P. M. Train. 

Mrs. Peterkin was in despair. Their return train was 3. 30; how could 5P. M. Help them?

Mr. Peterkin, with instant decision, proposed they should try somethingelse. Why should not they take their luncheon-basket across some ferry?This would give them practice. The family hastily agreed to this. Whatcould be better? They went to the baggage-office, but found their baskethad gone in the 7. 35 train! They had arrived in time, and could havegone too. "If we had only been checked!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. Thebaggage-master, showing a tender interest, suggested that there was atrain for Plymouth at eight, which would take them within twelve milesof Gooseberry Beach, and they might find "a team" there to take themacross. Solomon John and the little boys were delighted with thesuggestion. 

"We could see Plymouth Rock, " said Agamemnon. 

But hasty action would be necessary. Mr. Peterkin quickly procuredtickets for Plymouth, and no official objected to their taking the 8A. M. Train. They were all safely in the train. This had been a testexpedition; and each of the party had taken something, to see what wouldbe the proportion of things lost to those remembered. Mr. Peterkin hadtwo umbrellas, Agamemnon an atlas and spyglass, and the little boys weretaking down two cats in a basket. All were safe. 

"I am glad we have decided upon Plymouth, " said Mr. Peterkin. "Beforeseeing the pyramids of Egypt we certainly ought to know something ofPlymouth Rock. I should certainly be quite ashamed, when looking attheir great obelisks, to confess that I had never seen our own Rock. "

The conductor was attracted by this interesting party. When Mr. Peterkintold him of their mistake of the morning, and that they were bound forGooseberry Beach, he advised them to stop at Kingston, a station nearerthe beach. They would have but four miles to drive, and a reductioncould be effected on their tickets. The family demurred. Were they readynow to give up Plymouth? They would lose time in going there. SolomonJohn, too, suggested it would be better, chronologically, to visitPlymouth on their return from Egypt, after they had seen the earliestthings. 

This decided them to stop at Kingston. 

But they found here no omnibus nor carriage to take them to Gooseberry. The station-master was eager to assist them, and went far and near insearch of some sort of wagon. Hour after hour passed away, the littleboys had shared their last peanut, and gloom was gathering over thefamily, when Solomon John came into the station to say there was aphotographer's cart on the other side of the road. Would not this be agood chance to have their photographs taken for their friends beforeleaving for Egypt? The idea reanimated the whole party, and they madetheir way to the cart, and into it, as the door was open. There was, however, no photographer there. 

Agamemnon tried to remember what he had read of photography. As all thematerials were there, he might take the family's picture. There wouldindeed be a difficulty in introducing his own. Solomon John suggestedthey might arrange the family group, leaving a place for him. Then, whenall was ready, he could put the curtain over the box, take his placehastily, then pull away the curtain by means of a string. And SolomonJohn began to look around for a string while the little boys felt intheir pockets. 

Agamemnon did not exactly see how they could get the curtain back. Mr. Peterkin thought this of little importance. They would all be gladto sit some time after travelling so long. And the longer they sat thebetter for the picture, and perhaps somebody would come along in timeto put back the curtain. They began to arrange the group. Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin were placed in the middle, sitting down. Elizabeth Eliza stoodbehind them, and the little boys knelt in front with the basket of cats. Solomon John and Agamemnon were also to stand behind, Agamemnon leaningover his father's shoulder. Solomon John was still looking around for astring when the photographer himself appeared. He was much surprised tofind a group all ready for him. He had gone off that morning for a shortholiday, but was not unwilling to take the family, especially when heheard they were soon going to Egypt. He approved of the grouping made bythe family, but suggested that their eyes should not all be fixed uponthe same spot. Before the pictures were finished, the station-mastercame to announce that two carriages were found to take the party toGooseberry Beach. 

"There is no hurry, " said Mr. Peterkin, "Let the pictures be finished;they have made us wait, we can keep them waiting as long as we please. "

The result, indeed, was very satisfactory. The photographer pronouncedit a remarkably fine group. Elizabeth Eliza's eyes were lifted to theheavens perhaps a little too high. It gave her a rapt expression notcustomary with her; but Mr. Peterkin thought she might look in that wayin the presence of the Sphinx. It was necessary to have a number ofcopies, to satisfy all the friends left behind when they should go toEgypt; and it certainly would not be worth while to come again so greata distance for more. 

It was therefore a late hour when they left Kingston. It took some timeto arrange the party in two carriages. Mr. Peterkin ought to be in one, Mrs. Peterkin in the other; but it was difficult to divide the littleboys, as all wished to take charge of the cats. The drive, too, provedlonger than was expected, --six miles instead of four. 

When they reached their cousin's door, the "barge" was already standingthere. 

"It has brought our luncheon-basket!" exclaimed Solomon John. 

"I am glad of it, " said Agamemnon, "for I feel hungry enough for it. "

He pulled out his watch. It was three o'clock!

This was indeed the "barge, " but it had come for their return. TheGooseberry cousins, much bewildered that the family did not arrive atthe time expected, had forgotten to send to countermand it. And the"barge" driver, supposing the family had arrived by the other station, had taken occasion to bring up the lunch-basket, as it was addressed tothe Gooseberry cousins. The cousins flocked out to meet them. "What hadhappened? What had delayed them? They were glad to see them at last. "

Mrs. Peterkin, when she understood the state of the case, insisted upongetting directly into the "barge" to return, although the driver saidthere would be a few moments to spare. Some of the cousins busiedthemselves in opening the luncheon-basket, and a part led the littleboys and Agamemnon and Solomon John down upon the beach in front of thehouse; there would be a few moments for a glance at the sea. Indeed, thelittle boys ventured in their India-rubber boots to wade in a littleway, as the tide was low. And Agamemnon and Solomon John walked to lookat a boat that was drawn up on the beach, and got into it and out of itfor practice, till they were all summoned back to the house. 

It was indeed time to go. The Gooseberry cousins had got out theluncheon, and had tried to persuade the family to spend the night. Mrs. Peterkin declared this would be impossible. They never had done such athing. So they went off, eating their luncheon as they went, the littleboys each with a sandwich in one hand and a piece of cake in the other. 

Mrs. Peterkin was sure they should miss the train or lose some of theparty. No, it was a great success; for all, and more than all, werefound in the train: slung over the arm of one of the little boys wasfound the basket containing the cats. They were to have left the cats, but in their haste had brought them away again. 

This discovery was made in a search for the tickets which ElizabethEliza had bought, early in the morning, to go and return; they wereneeded now for return. She was sure she had given them to her father. Mrs. Peterkin supposed that Mr. Peterkin must have changed them for theKingston tickets. The little boys felt in their pockets, Agamemnon andSolomon John in theirs. In the excitement, Mrs. Peterkin insisted upongiving up her copy of their new photograph, and could not be satisfiedtill the conductor had punched it. At last the tickets were found in theouter lappet of Elizabeth Eliza's hand-bag. She had looked for them inthe inner part. 

It was after this that Mr. Peterkin ventured to pronounce the wholeexpedition a success. To be sure, they had not passed the day at thebeach, and had scarcely seen their cousins; but their object had beento practise travelling, and surely they had been travelling all day. Elizabeth Eliza had seen the sea, or thought she had. She was notsure--she had been so busy explaining to the cousins and showing thephotographs. Agamemnon was sorry she had not walked with them to thebeach, and tried getting in and out of the boat. Elizabeth Elizaregretted this. Of course it was not the same as getting into a boat onthe sea, where it would be wobbling more, but the step must have beenhigher from the sand. Solomon John said there was some difficulty. Hehad jumped in, but was obliged to take hold of the side in getting out. 

The little boys were much encouraged by their wade into the tide. Theyhad been a little frightened at first when the splash came, but thetide had been low. On the whole, Mr. Peterkin continued, things had gonewell. Even the bringing back of the cats might be considered a goodomen. Cats were worshipped in Egypt, and they ought not to have triedto part with them. He was glad they had brought the cats. They gave thelittle boys an interest in feeding them while they were waiting at theKingston station. 

Their adventures were not quite over, as the station was crowded whenthey reached Boston. A military company had arrived from the South andwas received by a procession. A number of distinguished guests also wereexpected, and the Peterkins found it difficult to procure a carriage. They had determined to take a carriage, so that they might be sure toreach their own evening train in season. 

At last Mr. Peterkin discovered one that was empty, standing at the endof a long line. There would be room for Mrs. Peterkin, Elizabeth Eliza, himself, and the little boys, and Agamemnon and Solomon John agreed towalk behind in order to keep the carriage in sight. But they were muchdisturbed when they found they were going at so slow a pace. Mr. Peterkincalled to the coachman in vain. He soon found that they had fallen intothe line of the procession, and the coachman was driving slowly onbehind the other carriages. In vain Mr. Peterkin tried to attract thedriver's attention. He put his head out of one window after another, butonly to receive the cheers of the populace ranged along the sidewalk. He opened the window behind the coachman and pulled his coat. But thecheering was so loud that he could not make himself heard. He tried tomotion to the coachman to turn down one of the side streets, but inanswer the driver pointed out with his whip the crowds of people. Mr. Peterkin, indeed, saw it would be impossible to make their way throughthe throng that filled every side street which they crossed. Mrs. Peterkin looked out of the back window for Agamemnon and Solomon John. They were walking side by side, behind the carriage, taking off theirhats, and bowing to the people cheering on either side. 

"They are at the head of a long row of men, walking two by two, " saidMrs. Peterkin. 

"They are part of the procession, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"We are part of the procession, " Mr. Peterkin answered. 

"I rather like it, " said Mrs. Peterkin, with a calm smile, as she lookedout of the window and bowed in answer to a cheer. 

"Where do you suppose we shall go?" asked Elizabeth Eliza. 

"I have often wondered what became of a procession, " said Mr. Peterkin. "They are always going somewhere, but I never could tell where they wentto. "

"We shall find out!" exclaimed the little boys, who were filled withdelight, looking now out of one window, now out of the other. 

"Perhaps we shall go to the armory, " said one. 

This alarmed Mrs. Peterkin. Sounds of martial music were now heard, andthe noise of the crowd grew louder. "I think you ought to ask where weare going, " she said to Mr. Peterkin. 

"It is not for us to decide, " he answered calmly. "They have taken usinto the procession. I suppose they will show us the principal streets, and will then leave us at our station. "

This, indeed, seemed to be the plan. For two hours more the Peterkins, in their carriage, and Agamemnon and Solomon John, afoot, followed on. Mrs. Peterkin looked out upon rows and rows of cheering people. Thelittle boys waved their caps. 

"It begins to be a little monotonous, " said Mrs. Peterkin, at last. 

"I am afraid we have missed all the trains, " said Elizabeth Eliza, gloomily. But Mr. Peterkin's faith held to the last, and was rewarded. The carriage reached the square in which stood the railroad station. Mr. Peterkin again seized the lapels of the coachman's coat and pointed tothe station, and he was able to turn his horses in that direction. Asthey left the crowd, they received a parting cheer. It was withdifficulty that Agamemnon and Solomon John broke from the ranks. 

"That was a magnificent reception!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, wiping hisbrow, after paying the coachman twice his fee. But Elizabeth Eliza said, --

"But we have lost all the trains, I am sure. "

They had lost all but one. It was the last. 

"And we have lost the cats!" the little boys suddenly exclaimed. ButMrs. Peterkin would not allow them to turn back in search of them. 

IV. 

THE PETERKINS' EXCURSION FOR MAPLE SUGAR. 

It was, to be sure, a change of plan to determine to go to Grandfather'sfor a maple-sugaring instead of going to Egypt! But it seemed best. Egypt was not given up, --only postponed. "It has lasted so manycenturies, " sighed Mr. Peterkin, "that I suppose it will not crumblemuch in one summer more. "

The Peterkins had determined to start for Egypt in June, and ElizabethEliza had engaged her dressmaker for January; but after all their planswere made, they were told that June was the worst month of all to go toEgypt in, --that they would arrive in midsummer, and find the climatealtogether too hot, --that people who were not used to it died of it. Nobody thought of going to Egypt in summer; on the contrary, everybodycame away. And what was worse, Agamemnon learned that not only thesummers were unbearably hot, but there really was no Egypt insummer, --nothing to speak of, --nothing but water; for there was a greatinundation of the river Nile every summer, which completely covered thecountry, and it would be difficult to get about except in boats. 

Mr. Peterkin remembered he had heard something of the sort, but he didnot suppose it had been kept up with the modern improvements. 

Mrs. Peterkin felt that the thing must be very much exaggerated. Shecould not believe the whole country would be covered, or that everybodywould leave; as summer was surely the usual time for travel, there mustbe strangers there, even if the natives left. She would not be sorry ifthere were fewer of the savages. As for the boats, she supposed aftertheir long voyage they would all be used to going about in boats; andshe had thought seriously of practising, by getting in and out of therocking-chair from the sofa. 

The family, however, wrote to the lady from Philadelphia, who hadtravelled in Egypt, and whose husband knew everything about Egypt thatcould be known, --that is, everything that had already been dug up, though he could only guess at what might be brought to light next. 

The result was a very earnest recommendation not to leave for Egypt tillthe autumn. Travellers did not usually reach there before December, though October might be pleasant on account of the fresh dates. 

So the Egypt plan was reluctantly postponed; and, to make amends for thedisappointment to the little boys, an excursion for maple syrup wasproposed instead. 

Mr. Peterkin considered it almost a necessity. They ought to acquaintthemselves with the manufactures of their own new country beforestudying those of the oldest in the world. He had been inquiring intothe products of Egypt at the present time, and had found sugar to be oneof their staples. They ought, then, to understand the American methodsand compare them with those of Egypt. It would be a pretty attention, indeed, to carry some of the maple sugar to the principal dignitariesof Egypt. 

But the difficulties in arranging an excursion proved almost as greatas for going to Egypt. Sugar-making could not come off until it waswarm enough for the sun to set the sap stirring. On the other hand, it must be cold enough for snow, as you could only reach the woods onsnow-sleds. Now, if there were sun enough for the sap to rise, it wouldmelt the snow; and if it were cold enough for sledding, it must be toocold for the syrup. There seemed an impossibility about the whole thing. The little boys, however, said there always had been maple sugar everyspring, --they had eaten it; why shouldn't there be this spring?

Elizabeth Eliza insisted gloomily that this was probably old sugar theyhad eaten, --you never could tell in the shops. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought there must be fresh sugar occasionally, as the oldwould have been eaten up. She felt the same about chickens. She nevercould understand why there were only the old, tough ones in the market, when there were certainly fresh young broods to be seen around thefarm-houses every year. She supposed the market-men had begun with theold, tough fowls, and so they had to go on so. She wished they had begunthe other way; and she had done her best to have the family eat up theold fowls, hoping they might, some day, get down to the young ones. 

As to the uncertainty about the weather, she suggested they should go toGrandfather's the day before. But how can you go the day before, whenyou don't yet know the day?

All were much delighted, therefore, when Hiram appeared with thewood-sled, one evening, to take them, as early as possible the nextday, to their grandfather's. He reported that the sap had started, the kettles had been on some time, there had been a light snow forsleighing, and to-morrow promised to be a fine day. It was decidedthat he should take the little boys and Elizabeth Eliza early, in thewood-sled; the others would follow later, in the carry-all. 

Mrs. Peterkin thought it would be safer to have some of the party go onwheels, in case of a general thaw the next day. 

A brilliant sun awoke them in the morning. The wood-sled was filled withhay, to make it warm and comfortable, and an arm-chair was tied in forElizabeth Eliza. But she was obliged to go first to visit the secretaryof the Circumambient Society, to explain that she should not be presentat their evening meeting. One of the rules of this society was to takealways a winding road when going upon society business, as the word"circumambient" means "compassing about. " It was one of its laws to copyNature as far as possible, and a straight line is never seen in Nature. Therefore she could not send a direct note to say she should not bepresent; she could only hint it in general conversation with thesecretary; and she was obliged to take a roundabout way to reach thesecretary's house, where the little boys called for her in herwood-sled. 

What was her surprise to find eight little boys instead of three! Inpassing the school-house they had picked up five of their friends, whohad reached the school door a full hour before the time. Elizabeth Elizathought they ought to inquire if their parents would be willing theyshould go, as they all expected to spend the night at Grandfather's. Hiram thought it would require too much time to stop for the consent often parents; if the sun kept on at this rate, the snow would be gonebefore they should reach the woods. But the little boys said most of thelittle boys lived in a row, and Elizabeth Eliza felt she ought not totake the boys away for all night without their parents' knowledge. Theconsent of two mothers and two fathers was gained, and Mr. Dobson wasmet in the street, who said he would tell the other mother. But at eachplace they were obliged to stop for additional tippets and great-coatsand India-rubber boots for the little boys. At the Harrimans', too, theHarriman girls insisted on dressing up the wood-sled with evergreens, and made one of the boys bring their last Christmas-tree, that wasleaning up against the barn, to set it up in the back of the sled, overElizabeth Eliza. All this made considerable delay; and when they reachedthe high-road again, the snow was indeed fast melting. Elizabeth Elizawas inclined to turn back, but Hiram said they would find the sleighingbetter farther up among the hills. The armchair joggled about a gooddeal, and the Christmas-tree creaked behind her; and Hiram was obligedto stop occasionally and tie in the chair and the tree more firmly. 

But the warm sun was very pleasant, the eight little boys were verylively, and the sleigh-bells jingled gayly as they went on. 

It was so late when they reached the wood-road that Hiram decided theyhad better not go up the hill to their grandfather's, but turn off intothe woods. 

"Your grandfather will be there by this time, " he declared. 

Elizabeth Eliza was afraid the carry-all would miss them, and thoughtthey had better wait. Hiram did not like to wait longer, and proposedthat one or two of the little boys should stop to show the way. But itwas so difficult to decide which little boys should stay that he gaveit up. Even to draw lots would take time. So he explained that therewas a lunch hidden somewhere in the straw; and the little boys thoughtit an admirable time to look it up, and it was decided to stop in thesun at the corner of the road. Elizabeth Eliza felt a little jouncedin the armchair, and was glad of a rest; and the little boys soondiscovered an ample lunch, --just what might have been expected fromGrandfather's, --apple-pie and doughnuts, and plenty of them! "Luckywe brought so many little boys!" they exclaimed. 

Hiram, however, began to grow impatient. "There 'll be no snow left, " heexclaimed, "and no afternoon for the syrup!"

But far in the distance the Peterkin carry-all was seen slowlyapproaching through the snow, Solomon John waving a red handkerchief. The little boys waved back, and Hiram ventured to enter upon thewood-road, but at a slow pace, as Elizabeth Eliza still feared that bysome accident the family might miss them. 

It was with difficulty that the carry-all followed in the deep but softsnow, in among the trunks of the trees and over piles of leaves hiddenin the snow. They reached at last the edge of a meadow; and on the highbank above it stood a row of maples, a little shanty by the side, a slowsmoke proceeding from its chimney. The little boys screamed withdelight, but there was no reply. Nobody there!

"The folks all gone!" exclaimed Hiram; "then we must be late. " And heproceeded to pull out a large silver watch from a side pocket. It was solarge that he seldom was at the pains to pull it out, as it took time;but when he had succeeded at last, and looked at it, he started. 

"Late, indeed! It is four o'clock, and we were to have been here byeleven; they have given you up. "

The little boys wanted to force in the door; but Hiram said it was nouse, --they wouldn't understand what to do, and he should have to see tothe horses, --and it was too late, and it was likely they had carried offall the syrup. But he thought a minute, as they all stood in silence andgloom; and then he guessed they might find some sugar at Deacon Spear's, close by, on the back road, and that would be better than nothing. Mrs. Peterkin was pretty cold, and glad not to wait in the darkening wood; sothe eight little boys walked through the wood-path, Hiram leading theway; and slowly the carry-all followed. 

They reached Deacon Spear's at length; but only Mrs. Spear was at home. She was very deaf, but could explain that the family had taken all theirsyrup to the annual festival. 

"We might go to the festival, " exclaimed the little boys. 

"It would be very well, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "to eat our fresh syrupthere. "

But Mrs. Spear could not tell where the festival was to be, as she hadnot heard; perhaps they might know at Squire Ramsay's. Squire Ramsay'swas on their way to Grandfather's, so they stopped there; but theylearned that the "Squire's folks had all gone with their syrup to thefestival, " but the man who was chopping wood did not know where thefestival was to be. 

"They 'll know at your grandfather's, " said Mrs. Peterkin, from thecarry-all. 

"Yes, go on to your grandfather's, " advised Mr. Peterkin, "for I thinkI felt a drop of rain. " So they made the best of their way toGrandfather's. 

At the moment they reached the door of the house, a party of youngpeople whom Elizabeth Eliza knew came by in sleighs. She had met themall when visiting at her grandfather's. 

"Come along with us, " they shouted; "we are all going down to the sugarfestival. "

"That is what we have come for, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"Where is it?" asked Solomon John. 

"It is down your way, " was the reply. 

"It is in your own New Hall, " said another. "We have sent down all oursyrup. The Spears and Ramsays and Doolittles have gone on with theirs. No time to stop; there's good sleighing on the old road. "

There was a little consultation with the grandfather. Hiram said thathe could take them back with the wood-sled, when he heard there wassleighing on the old road; and it was decided that the whole partyshould go in the wood-sled, with the exception of Mr. Peterkin, whowould follow on with the carry-all. Mrs. Peterkin would take thearm-chair, and cushions were put in for Elizabeth Eliza, and moreapple-pie for all. No more drops of rain appeared, though the cloudswere thickening over the setting sun. 

"All the way back again, " sighed Mrs. Peterkin, "when we might havestayed at home all day, and gone quietly out to the New Hall!" Butthe little boys thought the sledding all day was great fun, --and theapple-pie! "And we did see the kettle through the cracks of the shanty!"

"It is odd the festival should be held at the New Hall, " said ElizabethEliza; "for the secretary did say something about the society meetingthere to-night, being so far from the centre of the town. "

This hall was so called because it was once a new hall, built to be usedfor lectures, assemblies, and entertainments of this sort, for theconvenience of the inhabitants who had collected about some flourishingfactories. 

"You can go to your own Circumambient Society, then!" exclaimed SolomonJohn. 

"And in a truly circumambient manner, " said Agamemnon; and he explainedto the little boys that they could now understand the full meaning ofthe word, for surely Elizabeth Eliza had taken the most circumambientway of reaching the place by coming away from it. 

"We little thought, when we passed it early this morning, " saidElizabeth Eliza, "that we should come back to it for our maple sugar. "

"It is odd the secretary did not tell you they were going to join thesugar festival, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"It is one of the rules of the society, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "that thesecretary never tells anything directly. She only hinted at the plan ofthe New Hall. "

"I don't see how you can find enough to talk about, " said Solomon John. 

"We can tell of things that never have happened, " said Elizabeth Eliza, "or that are not likely to happen, and wonder what would have happenedif they had happened. "

They arrived at the festival at last, but very late, and glad to find aplace that was warm. There was a stove at each end of the hall, and anencouraging sound and smell from the simmering syrup. There were longtables down the hall, on which were placed, in a row, first a bowl ofsnow, then a pile of saucers and spoons, then a plate of pickles, intended to whet the appetite for more syrup; another of bread, thenanother bowl of snow, and so on. Hot syrup was to be poured on the snowand eaten as candy. 

The Peterkin family were received at this late hour with a wildenthusiasm. Elizabeth Eliza was an especial heroine, and was madedirectly the president of the evening. Everybody said that she had bestearned the distinction; for had she not come to the meeting by thelongest way possible, by going away from it? The secretary declared thatthe principles of the society had been completely carried out. She hadalways believed that if left to itself, information would spread itselfin a natural instead of a forced way. 

"Now, in this case, if I had written twenty-nine notifications to thismeeting, I should have wasted just so much of my time. But theinformation has disseminated naturally. Ann Maria said what a good planit would be to have the Circumambients go to the sugaring at the NewHall. Everybody said it would be a good plan. Elizabeth Eliza came andspoke of the sugaring, and I spoke of the New Hall. "

"But if you had told Elizabeth Eliza that all the maple syrup was to bebrought here--" began Mrs. Peterkin. 

"We should have lost our excursion for maple syrup, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

Later, as they reached home in the carry-all (Hiram having gone backwith the wood-sled), Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin, after leaving little boys attheir homes all along the route, found none of their own to get out attheir own door. They must have joined Elizabeth Eliza, Agamemnon, andSolomon John in taking a circuitous route home with the rest of theCircumambients. 

"The little boys will not be at home till midnight, " said Mrs. Peterkin, anxiously. "I do think this is carrying the thing too far, after such aday!"

"Elizabeth Eliza will feel that she has acted up to the principles ofthe society, " said Mr. Peterkin, "and we have done our best; for, as thelittle boys said, 'we did see the kettle. '"

V. 

THE PETERKINS "AT HOME. "

Might not something be done by way of farewell before leaving for Egypt?They did not want to give another tea-party, and could not get in all atdinner. They had had charades and a picnic. Elizabeth Eliza wished forsomething unusual, that should be remembered after they had left forEgypt. Why should it not be a fancy ball? There never had been one inthe place. 

Mrs. Peterkin hesitated. Perhaps for that reason they ought not toattempt it. She liked to have things that other people had. She howeverobjected most to the "ball" part. She could indeed still dance a minuet, but she was not sure she could get on in the "Boston dip. "

The little boys said they would like the "fancy" part and "dressing up. "They remembered their delight when they browned their faces for Hindus, at their charades, just for a few minutes; and what fun it would be towear their costumes through a whole evening! Mrs. Peterkin shook herhead; it was days and days before the brown had washed out of theircomplexions. 

Still, she too was interested in the "dressing up. " If they should wearcostumes, they could make them of things that might be left behind, thatthey had done wearing, if they could only think of the right kind ofthings. 

Mrs. Peterkin, indeed, had already packed up, although they were not toleave for two months, for she did not want to be hurried at the last. She and Elizabeth Eliza went on different principles in packing. 

Elizabeth Eliza had been told that you really needed very little totravel with, --merely your travelling dress and a black silk. Mrs. Peterkin, on the contrary, had heard it was best to take everything youhad, and then you need not spend your time shopping in Paris. So theyhad decided upon adopting both ways. Mrs. Peterkin was to take her"everything, " and already had all the shoes and stockings she shouldneed for a year or two. Elizabeth Eliza, on the other hand, prepared asmall valise. She consoled herself with the thought that if she shouldmeet anything that would not go into it, she could put it in one of hermother's trunks. 

It was resolved to give the fancy ball. 

Mr. Peterkin early determined upon a character. He decided to be JuliusCæsar. He had a bald place on the top of his head, which he was toldresembled that of the great Roman; and he concluded that the dress wouldbe a simple one to get up, requiring only a sheet for a toga. 

Agamemnon was inclined to take the part which his own name represented, and he looked up the costume of the Greek king of men. But he wasdissatisfied with the representation given of him in Dr. Schliemann's"Mykenæ. " There was a picture of Agamemnon's mask, but very muchbattered. He might get a mask made in that pattern, indeed, and thelittle boys were delighted with the idea of battering it. Agamemnonwould like to wear a mask, then he would have no trouble in keeping uphis expression. But Elizabeth Eliza objected to the picture in Dr. Schliemann's book; she did not like it for Agamemnon, --it was tooslanting in the eyes. So it was decided he should take the part of NickBottom, in "Midsummer Night's Dream. " He could then wear the ass's head, which would have the same advantage as a mask, and would conceal his ownface entirely. Then he could be making up any face he pleased in theass's head, and would look like an ass without any difficulty, while hisfeet would show he was not one. Solomon John thought that they mightmake an ass's head if they could get a pattern, or could see the realanimal and form an idea of the shape. Barnum's Circus would be along ina few weeks, and they could go on purpose to study the donkeys, as thereusually was more than one donkey in the circus. Agamemnon, however, ingoing with a friend to a costumer's in Boston, found an ass's headalready made. 

The little boys found in an illustrated paper an accurate descriptionof the Hindu snake-charmer's costume, and were so successful in theirpractice of shades of brown for the complexion, that Solomon Johndecided to take the part of Othello, and use some of their stainingfluid. 

There was some discussion as to consulting the lady from Philadelphia, who was in town. 

Solomon John thought they ought to practise getting on by themselves, for soon the Atlantic would lie between her and them. Mrs. Peterkinthought they could telegraph. Elizabeth Eliza wanted to submit to hertwo or three questions about the supper, and whether, if her mother wereQueen Elizabeth, they could have Chinese lanterns. Was China invented atthat time? Agamemnon was sure China was one of the oldest countries inthe world and did exist, though perhaps Queen Elizabeth did not know it. 

Elizabeth Eliza was relieved to find that the lady from Philadelphiathought the question not important. It would be impossible to haveeverything in the house to correspond with all the different characters, unless they selected some period to represent, such as the age of QueenElizabeth. Of course, Elizabeth Eliza would not wish to do this when herfather was to be Julius Cæsar. 

The lady from Philadelphia advised Mrs. Peterkin to send for Jones the"caterer" to take charge of the supper. But his first question staggeredher. How many did she expect?

They had not the slightest idea. They had sent invitations to everybody. The little boys proposed getting the directory of the place, and markingout the people they didn't know and counting up the rest. But even ifthis would give the number of invitations, it would not show how manywould accept; and then there was no such directory. They could notexpect answers, as their invitations were cards with "At Home" on them. One answer had come from a lady, that she too would be "at home" withrheumatism. So they only knew there was one person who would not come. Elizabeth Eliza had sent in Circumambient ways to all the members ofthat society, --by the little boys, for instance, who were sure to stopat the base-ball grounds, or somewhere, so a note was always delayed bythem. One Circumambient note she sent by mail, purposely omitting the"Mass. , " so that it went to the Dead-Letter Office, and came back sixweeks after the party. 

But the Peterkin family were not alone in commotion. The whole town wasin excitement, for "everybody" had been invited. Ann Maria Bromwickhad a book of costumes that she lent to a few friends, and everybodyborrowed dresses or lent them, or went into town to the costumer's. Weeks passed in preparation. "What are you going to wear?" was the onlyquestion exchanged; and nobody answered, as nobody would tell. 

At length the evening came, --a beautiful night in late summer, warmenough to have had the party out-of-doors; but the whole house waslighted up and thrown open, and Chinese lanterns hung in the portico andon the pillars of the piazzas. 

At an early hour the Peterkins were arrayed in their costumes. Thelittle boys had their legs and arms and faces browned early in the day, and wore dazzlingly white full trousers and white turbans. 

Elizabeth Eliza had prepared a dress as Queen Elizabeth; but SolomonJohn was desirous that she should be Desdemona, and she gave up hercostume to her mother. Mrs. Peterkin therefore wore a red wig which AnnMaria had found at a costumer's, a high ruff, and an old-fashionedbrocade. She was not sure that it was proper for Queen Elizabeth to wearspectacles; but Queen Elizabeth must have been old enough, as she livedto be seventy. As for Elizabeth Eliza, in recalling the fact thatDesdemona was smothered by pillows, she was so impressed by it that shedecided she could wear the costume of a sheet-and-pillow-case party. Soshe wore a white figured silk that had been her mother's wedding-dress, and over it draped a sheet as a large mantle, and put a pillow-case uponher head, and could represent Desdemona not quite smothered. But SolomonJohn wished to carry out the whole scene at the end. 

As they stood together, all ready to receive, in the parlor at theappointed hour, Mr. Peterkin suddenly exclaimed, --

"This will never do! We are not the Peterkins, --we are distinguishedguests! We cannot receive. "

"We shall have to give up the party, " said Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Or our costumes, " groaned Agamemnon from his ass's head. 

"We must go out, and come in as guests, " said Elizabeth Eliza, leadingthe way to a back door, for guests were already thronging in, and upthe front stairs. They passed out by a piazza, through the hedge ofhollyhocks, toward the front of the house. Through the side windows ofthe library they could see the company pouring in. The black attendantwas showing them upstairs; some were coming down, in doubt whether toenter the parlors, as no one was there. The wide middle entrance hallwas lighted brilliantly; so were the parlors on one side and the libraryon the other. 

But nobody was there to receive! A flock of guests wasassembling, --peasant girls, Italian, German, and Norman; Turks, Greeks, Persians, fish-wives, brigands, chocolate-women, Lady Washington, Penelope, Red Riding-hood, Joan of Arc, nuns, Amy Robsart, Leicester, two or three Mary Stuarts, Neapolitan fisher-boys, pirates of Penzanceand elsewhere, --all lingering, some on the stairs, some going up, somecoming down. 

Charles I. Without his head was entering the front door (a shortgentleman, with a broad ruff drawn neatly together on top of his ownhead, which was concealed in his doublet below). 

Three Hindu snake-charmers leaped wildly in and out among the throng, flinging about dark, crooked sticks for snakes. 

There began to be a strange, deserted air about the house. Nobody knewwhat to do, where to go!

"Can anything have happened to the family?"

"Have they gone to Egypt?" whispered one. 

No ushers came to show them in. A shudder ran through the wholeassembly, the house seemed so uninhabited; and some of the guests wereinclined to go away. The Peterkins saw it all through the longlibrary-windows. 

"What shall we do?" said Mr. Peterkin. "We have said _we_ shouldbe 'At Home. '"

"And here we are, all out-of-doors among the hollyhocks, " said ElizabethEliza. 

"There are no Peterkins to 'receive, '" said Mr. Peterkin, gloomily. 

"We might go in and change our costumes, " said Mrs. Peterkin, whoalready found her Elizabethan ruff somewhat stiff; "but, alas! I couldnot get at my best dress. "

"The company is filling all the upper rooms, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "wecannot go back. "

At this moment the little boys returned from the front door, and in asubdued whisper explained that the lady from Philadelphia was arriving. 

"Oh, bring her here!" said Mrs. Peterkin. And Solomon John hastened tomeet her. 

She came, to find a strange group half lighted by the Chinese lanterns. Mr. Peterkin, in his white toga, with a green wreath upon his head, cameforward to address her in a noble manner, while she was terrified by theappearance of Agamemnon's ass's head, half hidden among the leaves. 

"What shall we do?" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin. "There are no Peterkins;yet we have sent cards to everybody that they are 'At Home'!"

The lady from Philadelphia, who had been allowed to come withoutcostume, considered for a moment. She looked through the windows to theseething mass now crowding the entrance hall. The Hindu snake-charmersgambolled about her. 

"_We_ will receive as the Peterkin family!" she exclaimed. Sheinquired for a cap of Mrs. Peterkin's, with a purple satin bow, such asshe had worn that very morning. Amanda was found by a Hindu, and sentfor it and for a purple cross-over shawl that Mrs. Peterkin was wont towear. The daughters of the lady from Philadelphia put on some hats ofthe little boys and their India-rubber boots. Hastily they went inthrough the back door and presented themselves, just as some of thewavering guests had decided to leave the house, it seeming so quietand sepulchral. 

The crowd now flocked into the parlors. The Peterkins themselves leftthe hollyhocks and joined the company that was entering; Mr. Peterkin, as Julius Cæsar, leading in Mrs. Peterkin, as Queen Elizabeth. Mrs. Peterkin hardly knew what to do, as she passed the parlor door; for oneof the Osbornes, as Sir Walter Raleigh, flung a velvet cloak beforeher. She was uncertain whether she ought to step on it, especially asshe discovered at that moment that she had forgotten to take off herrubber overshoes, which she had put on to go through the garden. Butas she stood hesitating, the lady from Philadelphia, as Mrs. Peterkin, beckoned her forward, and she walked over the ruby velvet as though itwere a door-mat. 

For another surprise stunned her, --there were three Mrs. Peterkins! Notonly Mrs. Bromwick, but their opposite neighbor, had induced Amanda totake dresses of Mrs. Peterkin's from the top of the trunks, and had comein at the same moment with the lady from Philadelphia, ready to receive. She stood in the middle of the bow-window at the back of the room, thetwo others in the corners. Ann Maria Bromwick had the part of ElizabethEliza, and Agamemnon too was represented; and there were many sets of"little boys" in India-rubber boots, going in and out with the Hindusnake-charmers. 

Mr. Peterkin had studied up his Latin grammar a little, in preparationfor his part of Julius Cæsar. Agamemnon had reminded him that it wasunnecessary, as Julius Cæsar in Shakspeare spoke in English. Still henow found himself using with wonderful ease Latin phrases such as "Epluribus unum, " "lapsus linguæ, " and "sine qua non, " where they seemedto be appropriate. 

Solomon John looked well as Othello, although by some he was mistakenfor an older snake-charmer, with his brown complexion, glaring whitetrousers, and white shirt. He wore a white lawn turban that had belongedto his great-grandmother. His part, however, was more understood when hewas with Elizabeth Eliza as Desdemona; for they occasionally formed atableau, in which he pulled the pillow-case completely over her head. 

Agamemnon was greeted with applause as Nick Bottom. He sang the song ofthe "ousel cock, " but he could not make himself heard. At last he founda "Titania" who listened to him. 

But none of the company attempted to carry out the parts represented bytheir costumes. Charles I. Soon conversed with Oliver Cromwell and withthe different Mary Stuarts, who chatted gayly, as though executions wereevery-day occurrences. 

At first there was a little awkwardness. Nuns stood as quiet as if intheir convent cells, and brave brigands hid themselves behind the doors;but as the different guests began to surprise each other, the sounds oflaughter and talking increased. Every new-comer was led up to eachseveral Mrs. Peterkin. 

Then came a great surprise, --a band of music sounded from the piazza. Some of the neighbors had sent in the town band, as a farewell tribute. This added to the excitement of the occasion. Strains of dance-musicwere heard, and dancing was begun. Sir Walter Raleigh led out Penelope, and Red Riding-hood without fear took the arm of the fiercest brigandfor a round dance. 

The various groups wandered in and out. Elizabeth Eliza studied thecostumes of her friends, and wished she had tried each one of them. Themembers of the Circumambient Society agreed that it would be always wellto wear costumes at their meetings. As the principles of the societyenforced a sort of uncertainty, if you always went in a differentcostume you would never have to keep up your own character. ElizabethEliza thought she should enjoy this. She had all her life been troubledwith uncertainties and questions as to her own part of "ElizabethEliza, " wondering always if she were doing the right thing. It did notseem to her that other people had such a bother. Perhaps they hadsimpler parts. They always seemed to know when to speak and when tobe silent, while she was always puzzled as to what she should do asElizabeth Eliza. Now, behind her pillow-case, she could look on and donothing; all that was expected of her was to be smothered now and then. She breathed freely and enjoyed herself, because for the evening shecould forget the difficult role of Elizabeth Eliza. 

Mrs. Peterkin was bewildered. She thought it a good occasion to studyhow Mrs. Peterkin should act; but there were three Mrs. Peterkins. Shefound herself gazing first at one, then at another. Often she washerself called Mrs. Peterkin. 

[Illustration: The ass's head proved hot and heavy, and Agamemnon wasforced to hang it over his arm. ]

At supper-time the bewilderment increased. She was led in by the Earlof Leicester, as principal guest. Yet it was to her own dining-room, and she recognized her own forks and spoons among the borrowed ones, although the china was different (because their own set was not largeenough to go round for so much company). It was all very confusing. Thedance-music floated through the air. Three Mrs. Peterkins hovered beforeher, and two Agamemnons; for the ass's head proved hot and heavy, andAgamemnon was forced to hang it over his arm as he offered coffee toTitania. There seemed to be two Elizabeth Elizas, for Elizabeth Elizahad thrown back her pillow-case in order to eat her fruit-ice. Mr. Peterkin was wondering how Julius Cæsar would have managed to eathis salad with his fork, before forks were invented, and then he fellinto a fit of abstraction, planning to say "Vale" to the guests as theyleft, but anxious that the word should not slip out before the time. Eight little boys and three Hindu snake-charmers were eating copiouslyof frozen pudding. Two Joans of Arc were talking to Charles I. , who hadfound his head. All things seemed double to Mrs. Peterkin as theyfloated before her. 

"Was she eating her own supper or somebody's else? Were they Peterkins, or were they not?"

Strains of dance-music sounded from the library. Yes, they were giving afancy ball! The Peterkins were "At Home" for the last time beforeleaving for Egypt!

VI. 

MRS. PETERKIN IN EGYPT. 

The family had taken passage in the new line for Bordeaux. They supposedthey had; but would they ever reach the vessel in New York? The lastmoments were terrific. In spite of all their careful arrangements, theirplanning and packing of the last year, it seemed, after all, as ifeverything were left for the very last day. There were presents for thefamily to be packed, six steamer-bags for Mrs. Peterkin, half a dozensatchels of salts-bottles for Elizabeth Eliza, Apollinaris water, lunch-baskets. All these must be disposed of. 

On the very last day Elizabeth Eliza went into Boston to buy a bird, asshe had been told she would be less likely to be sea-sick if she had abird in a cage in her stateroom. Both she and her mother disliked thesinging of caged birds, especially of canaries; but Mrs. Peterkin arguedthat they would be less likely to be homesick, as they never had birdsat home. After long moments of indecision, Elizabeth Eliza determinedupon two canary-birds, thinking she might let them fly as theyapproached the shore of Portugal, and they would then reach their nativeislands. This matter detained her till the latest train, so that on herreturn from Boston to their quiet suburban home, she found the wholefamily assembled in the station, ready to take the through express trainto New York. 

She did not have time, therefore, to go back to the house for her ownthings. It was now locked up and the key intrusted to the Bromwicks; andall the Bromwicks and the rest of the neighbors were at the station, ready to bid them good-by. The family had done their best to collect allher scattered bits of baggage; but all through her travels, afterward, she was continually missing something she had left behind, that shewould have packed and had intended to bring. 

They reached New York with half a day on their hands; and during thistime Agamemnon fell in with some old college friends, who were goingwith a party to Greece to look up the new excavations. They were toleave the next day in a steamer for Gibraltar. Agamemnon felt that herewas the place for him, and hastened to consult his family. Perhaps hecould persuade them to change their plans and take passage with theparty for Gibraltar. But he reached the pier just as the steamer forBordeaux was leaving the shore. He was too late, and was left behind!Too late to consult them, too late even to join them! He examined hismap, however, --one of his latest purchases, which he carried in hispocket, --and consoled himself with the fact that on reaching Gibraltarhe could soon communicate with his family at Bordeaux, and he was easilyreconciled to his fate. 

It was not till the family landed at Bordeaux that they discovered theabsence of Agamemnon. Every day there had been some of the family unableto come on deck, --sea-sick below. Mrs. Peterkin never left her berth, and constantly sent messages to the others to follow her example, as shewas afraid some one of them would be lost overboard. Those who were ondeck from time to time were always different ones, and the passage wasremarkably quick; while, from the tossing of the ship, as they met roughweather, they were all too miserable to compare notes or count theirnumbers. Elizabeth Eliza especially had been exhausted by the voyage. She had not been many days seasick, but the incessant singing of thebirds had deprived her of sleep. Then the necessity of talking Frenchhad been a great tax upon her. The other passengers were mostly French, and the rest of the family constantly appealed to her to interpret theirwants, and explain them to the _garçon_ once every day at dinner. She felt as if she never wished to speak another word in French; andthe necessity of being interpreter at the hotel at Bordeaux, on theirarrival, seemed almost too much for her. She had even forgotten to lether canary-birds fly when off shore in the Bay of Biscay, and they werestill with her, singing incessantly, as if they were rejoicing over anapproach to their native shores. She thought now she must keep them tilltheir return, which they were already planning. 

The little boys, indeed, would like to have gone back on the return tripof the steamer. A son of the steward told them that the return cargoconsisted of dried fruits and raisins; that every stateroom, exceptthose occupied with passengers, would be filled with boxes of raisinsand jars of grapes; that these often broke open in the passage, givinga great opportunity for boys. 

But the family held to their Egypt plan, and were cheered by making theacquaintance of an English party. At the _table d'hôte_ ElizabethEliza by chance dropped her fork into her neighbor's lap. She apologizedin French; her neighbor answered in the same language, which ElizabethEliza understood so well that she concluded she had at last met with atrue Parisian, and ventured on more conversation, when suddenly theyboth found they were talking in English, and Elizabeth Eliza exclaimed, "I am so glad to meet an American, " at the moment that her companion wassaying, "Then you are an Englishwoman!"

From this moment Elizabeth Eliza was at ease, and indeed both partieswere mutually pleased. Elizabeth Eliza's new friend was one of a largeparty, and she was delighted to find that they too were planning awinter in Egypt. They were waiting till a friend should have completedher "cure" at Pau, and the Peterkins were glad also to wait for theappearance of Agamemnon, who might arrive in the next steamer. 

One of the little boys was sure he had heard Agamemnon's voice themorning after they left New York, and was certain he must have been onboard the vessel. Mr. Peterkin was not so sure. He now remembered thatAgamemnon had not been at the dinner-table the very first evening; butthen neither Mrs. Peterkin nor Solomon John was able to be present, asthe vessel was tossing in a most uncomfortable manner, and nothing butdinner could have kept the little boys at table. Solomon John knew thatAgamemnon had not been in his own stateroom during the passage, but hehimself had seldom left it, and it had been always planned thatAgamemnon should share that of a fellow-passenger. 

However this might be, it would be best to leave Marseilles with theEnglish party by the "P. & O. " steamer. This was one of the English"Peninsular and Oriental" line, that left Marseilles for Alexandria, Egypt, and made a return trip directly to Southampton, England. Mr. Peterkin thought it might be advisable to take "go-and-return" tickets, coming back to Southampton; and Mrs. Peterkin liked the idea of nochange of baggage, though she dreaded the longer voyage. Elizabeth Elizaapproved of this return trip in the P. & O. Steamer, and decided itwould give a good opportunity to dispose of her canary-birds on herreturn. 

The family therefore consoled themselves at Marseilles with the beliefthat Agamemnon would appear somehow. If not, Mr. Peterkin thought hecould telegraph him from Marseilles, if he only knew where to telegraphto. But at Marseilles there was great confusion at the Hôtel deNoailles; for the English party met other friends, who persuaded them totake route together by Brindisi. Elizabeth Eliza was anxious to continuewith her new English friend, and Solomon John was delighted with theidea of passing through the whole length of Italy. But the sight of thelong journey, as she saw it on the map in the guide-book, terrified Mrs. Peterkin. And Mr. Peterkin had taken their tickets for the Marseillesline. Elizabeth Eliza still dwelt upon the charm of crossing under theAlps, while this very idea alarmed Mrs. Peterkin. 

On the last morning the matter was still undecided. On leaving thehotel, it was necessary for the party to divide and take two omnibuses. Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin reached the steamer at the moment of departure, and suddenly Mrs. Peterkin found they were leaving the shore. As theycrossed the broad gangway to reach the deck, she had not noticed theyhad left the pier; indeed, she had supposed that the steamer was one shesaw out in the offing, and that they would be obliged to take a boat toreach it. She hurried from the group of travellers whom she had followedto find Mr. Peterkin reading from his guide-book to the little boys anexplanation that they were passing the Château d'If, from which thecelebrated historical character the Count of Monte Cristo had escaped byflinging himself into the sea. 

"Where is Elizabeth Eliza? Where is Solomon John?" Mrs. Peterkinexclaimed, seizing Mr. Peterkin's arm. Where indeed? There was a pileof the hand-baggage of the family, but not that of Elizabeth Eliza, noteven the bird-cage. "It was on the top of the other omnibus, " exclaimedMrs. Peterkin. Yes, one of the little boys had seen it on the pavementof the court-yard of the hotel, and had carried it to the omnibus inwhich Elizabeth Eliza was sitting. He had seen her through the window. 

"Where is that other omnibus?" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, looking vaguelyover the deck, as they were fast retreating from the shore. "Asksomebody what became of that other omnibus!" she exclaimed. "Perhapsthey have gone with the English people, " suggested Mr. Peterkin; but hewent to the officers of the boat, and attempted to explain in Frenchthat one half of his family had been left behind. He was relieved tofind that the officers could understand his French, though they did nottalk English. They declared, however, it was utterly impossible to turnback. They were already two minutes and a half behind time on account ofwaiting for a party who had been very long in crossing the gangway. 

Mr. Peterkin returned gloomily with the little boys to Mrs. Peterkin. "We cannot go back, " he said, "we must content ourselves with going on;but I conclude we can telegraph from Malta. We can send a message toElizabeth Eliza and Solomon John, telling them that they can take thenext Marseilles P. & O. Steamer in ten days, or that they can go backto Southampton for the next boat, which leaves at the end of this week. And Elizabeth Eliza may decide upon this, " Mr. Peterkin concluded, "onaccount of passing so near the Canary Isles. "

"She will be glad to be rid of the birds, " said Mrs. Peterkin, calmingherself. 

These anxieties, however, were swallowed up in new trials. Mrs. Peterkinfound that she must share her cabin (she found it was called "cabin, "and not "stateroom, " which bothered her and made her feel like RobinsonCrusoe), --her cabin she must share with some strange ladies, while Mr. Peterkin and the little boys were carried to another part of the ship. Mrs. Peterkin remonstrated, delighted to find that her English wasunderstood, though it was not listened to. It was explained to herthat every family was divided in this way, and that she would meet Mr. Peterkin and the little boys at meal-times in the large _salon_--onwhich all the cabins opened--and on deck; and she was obliged to contentherself with this. Whenever they met their time was spent in concoctinga form of telegram to send from Malta. It would be difficult to bring itinto the required number of words, as it would be necessary to suggestthree different plans to Elizabeth Eliza and Solomon John. Besidesthe two they had already discussed, there was to be considered thepossibility of their having joined the English party. But Mrs. Peterkinwas sure they must have gone back first to the Hôtel de Noailles, towhich they could address their telegram. 

She found, meanwhile, the ladies in her cabin very kind and agreeable. They were mothers returning to India, who had been home to England toleave their children, as they were afraid to expose them longer to theclimate of India. Mrs. Peterkin could have sympathetic talks with themover their family photographs. Mrs. Peterkin's family-book was, alas!in Elizabeth Eliza's hand-bag. It contained the family photographs, from early childhood upward, and was a large volume, representing thechildren at every age. 

At Malta, as he supposed, Mr. Peterkin and the little boys landed, inorder to send their telegram. Indeed, all of the gentlemen among thepassengers, and some of the ladies, gladly went on shore to visit thepoints of interest that could be seen in the time allotted. The steamerwas to take in coal, and would not leave till early the next morning. 

Mrs. Peterkin did not accompany them. She still had her fears aboutleaving the ship and returning to it, although it had been so quietlyaccomplished at Marseilles. 

The party returned late at night, after Mrs. Peterkin had gone to hercabin. The next morning, she found the ship was in motion, but she didnot find Mr. Peterkin and the little boys at the breakfast-table asusual. She was told that the party who went on shore had all been tothe opera, and had returned at a late hour to the steamer, and wouldnaturally be late at breakfast. Mrs. Peterkin went on deck to awaitthem, and look for Malta as it seemed to retreat in the distance. Butthe day passed on, and neither Mr. Peterkin nor either of the littleboys appeared! She tried to calm herself with the thought that they mustneed sleep; but all the rest of the passengers appeared, relating theirdifferent adventures. At last she sent the steward to inquire for them. He came back with one of the officers of the boat, much disturbed, tosay that they could not be found; they must have been left behind. Therewas great excitement, and deep interest expressed for Mrs. Peterkin. Oneof the officers was very surly, and declared he could not be responsiblefor the inanity of passengers. Another was more courteous. Mrs. Peterkinasked if they could not go back, --if, at least, she could not be putback. He explained how this would be impossible, but that the companywould telegraph when they reached Alexandria. 

Mrs. Peterkin calmed herself as well as she could, though indeed she wasbewildered by her position. She was to land in Alexandria alone, and thelanding she was told would be especially difficult. The steamer wouldnot be able to approach the shore; the passengers would go down thesides of the ship, and be lifted off the steps, by Arabs, into a felucca(whatever that was) below. She shuddered at the prospect. It was darkerthan her gloomiest fancies had pictured. Would it not be better toremain in the ship, go back to Southampton, perhaps meet Elizabeth Elizathere, picking up Mr. Peterkin at Malta on the way? But at this momentshe discovered that she was not on a "P. & O. " steamer, --it was a Frenchsteamer of the "Messagerie" line; they had stopped at Messina, and notat Malta. She could not go back to Southampton, so she was told by anEnglish colonel on his way to India. He indeed was very courteous, andadvised her to "go to an hotel" at Alexandria with some of the ladies, and send her telegrams from there. To whom, however, would she wish tosend a telegram?

"Who is Mr. Peterkin's banker?" asked the Colonel. Alas! Mrs. Peterkindid not know. He had at first selected a banker in London, but hadafterward changed his mind and talked of a banker in Paris; and she wasnot sure what was his final decision. She had known the name of theLondon banker, but had forgotten it, because she had written it down, and she never did remember the things she wrote down in her book. Thatwas her old memorandum-book, and she had left it at home because she hadbrought a new one for her travels. She was sorry now she had not keptthe old book. This, however, was not of so much importance, as it didnot contain the name of the Paris banker; and this she had never heard. "Elizabeth Eliza would know;" but how could she reach Elizabeth Eliza?

Some one asked if there were not some friend in America to whom shecould appeal, if she did not object to using the ocean telegraph. 

"There is a friend in America, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "to whom we all ofus do go for advice, and who always does help us. She lives inPhiladelphia. "

"Why not telegraph to her for advice?" asked her friends. 

Mrs. Peterkin gladly agreed that it would be the best plan. The expenseof the cablegram would be nothing in comparison with the assistance theanswer would bring. 

Her new friends then invited her to accompany them to their hotelin Alexandria, from which she could send her despatch. The thoughtof thus being able to reach her hand across the sea to the lady fromPhiladelphia gave Mrs. Peterkin fresh courage, --courage even to make thelanding. As she descended the side of the ship and was guided down thesteps, she closed her eyes that she might not see herself lifted intothe many-oared boat by the wild-looking Arabs, of whom she had caughta glimpse from above. But she could not close her ears; and as theyapproached the shore, strange sounds almost deafened her. She closed hereyes again, as she was lifted from the boat and heard the wild yells andshrieks around her. There was a clashing of brass, a jingling of bells, and the screams grew more and more terrific. If she did open her eyes, she saw wild figures gesticulating, dark faces, gay costumes, crowds ofmen and boys, donkeys, horses, even camels, in the distance. She closedher eyes once more as she was again lifted. Should she now find herselfon the back of one of those high camels? Perhaps for this she came toEgypt. But when she looked round again, she found she was leaning backin a comfortable open carriage, with a bottle of salts at her nose. Shewas in the midst of a strange whirl of excitement; but all the partywere bewildered, and she had scarcely recovered her composure when theyreached the hotel. 

Here a comfortable meal and rest somewhat restored them. By the next daya messenger from the boat brought her the return telegram from Messina. Mr. Peterkin and family, left behind by the "Messagerie" steamer, hadembarked the next day by steamer, probably for Naples. 

More anxious than ever was Mrs. Peterkin to send her despatch. It wastoo late the day of their arrival; but at an early hour next day it wassent, and after a day had elapsed, the answer came:--

 "All meet at the Sphinx. "

Everything now seemed plain. The words were few but clear. Her Englishfriends were going directly to Cairo, and she accompanied them. 

After reaching Cairo, the whole party were obliged to rest awhile. Theywould indeed go with Mrs. Peterkin on her first visit to the Sphinx, asto see the Sphinx and ascend the pyramid formed part of their programme. But many delays occurred to detain them, and Mrs. Peterkin had resolvedto carry out completely the advice of the telegram. She would sit everyday before the Sphinx. She found that as yet there was no hotel exactlyin front of the Sphinx, nor indeed on that side of the river, and shewould be obliged to make the excursion of nine miles there and ninemiles back, each day. But there would always be a party of travellerswhom she could accompany. Each day she grew more and more accustomed tothe bewildering sights and sounds about her, and more and more willingto intrust herself to the dark-colored guides. At last, chafing at somany delays, she decided to make the expedition without her new friends. She had made some experiments in riding upon a donkey, and found she wasseldom thrown, and could not be hurt by the slight fall. 

And so, one day, Mrs. Peterkin sat alone in front of the Sphinx, --alone, as far as her own family and friends were concerned, and yet not aloneindeed. A large crowd of guides sat around this strange lady whoproposed to spend the day in front of the Sphinx. Clad in long whiterobes, with white turbans crowning their dark faces, they gazed into hereyes with something of the questioning expression with which she herselfwas looking into the eyes of the Sphinx. 

There were other travellers wandering about. Just now her own party hadcollected to eat their lunch together; but they were scattered again, and she sat with a circle of Arabs about her, the watchful dragomanlingering near. 

Somehow the Eastern languor must have stolen upon her, or she could nothave sat so calmly, not knowing where a single member of her family wasat that moment. And she had dreaded Egypt so; had feared separation; hadeven been a little afraid of the Sphinx, upon which she was now lookingas at a protecting angel. But they all were to meet at the Sphinx!

If only she could have seen where the different members of the familywere at that moment, she could not have sat so quietly. She little knewthat a tall form, not far away (following some guides down into thelower halls of a lately excavated temple), with a blue veil wrappedabout a face shielded with smoke-colored spectacles, was that ofElizabeth Eliza herself, from whom she had been separated two weeksbefore. 

She little knew that at this moment Solomon John was standing lookingover the edge of the Matterhorn, wishing he had not come up so high. Butsuch a gay young party had set off that morning from the hotel that hehad supposed it an easy thing to join them; and now he would fain goback, but was tied to the rest of his party with their guide precedingthem, and he must keep on and crawl up behind them, still farther, onhands and knees. 

Agamemnon was at Mycenæ, looking down into an open pit. 

Two of the little boys were roasting eggs in the crater of MountVesuvius. 

And she would have seen Mr. Peterkin comfortably reclining in a gondola, with one of the little boys, in front of the palaces of Venice. 

But none of this she saw; she only looked into the eyes of the Sphinx. 

VII. 

MRS. PETERKIN FAINTS ON THE GREAT PYRAMID. 

"Meet at the Sphinx!" Yes; these were the words that the lady fromPhiladelphia had sent in answer to the several telegrams that hadreached her from each member of the Peterkin family. She had receivedthese messages while staying in a remote country town, but she couldcommunicate with the cable line by means of the telegraph office at arailway station. The intelligent operator, seeing the same date affixedat the close of each message, "took in, " as she afterward expressed it, that it was the date of the day on which the message was sent; and asthis was always prefixed to every despatch, she did not add it to theseveral messages. She afterward expressed herself as sorry for themistake, and declared it should not occur another time. 

Elizabeth Eliza was the first at the appointed spot, as her route hadbeen somewhat shorter than the one her mother had taken. A wild joy hadseized her when she landed in Egypt, and saw the frequent and happy useof the donkey as a beast of travel. She had never ventured to ride athome, and had always shuddered at the daring of the women who rode atthe circuses, and closed her eyes at their performances. But as soon asshe saw the little Egyptian donkeys, a mania for riding possessed her. She was so tall that she could scarcely, under any circumstances, fallfrom them, while she could mount them with as much ease as she could thearm of the sofa at home, and most of the animals seemed as harmless. Itis true, the donkey-boys gave her the wrong word to use when she mightwish to check the pace of her donkey, and mischievously taught her toavoid the soothing phrase of _beschwesch_, giving her instead onethat should goad the beast she rode to its highest speed; but ElizabethEliza was so delighted with the quick pace that she was continuallyurging her donkey onward, to the surprise and delight of each freshattendant donkey-boy. He would run at a swift pace after her, stoppingsometimes to pick up a loose slipper, if it were shuffled off from hisfoot in his quick run, but always bringing up even in the end. 

Elizabeth Eliza's party had made a quick journey by the route fromBrindisi, and proceeding directly to Cairo, had stopped at a smallFrench hotel not very far from Mrs. Peterkin and her party. Everymorning at an early hour Elizabeth Eliza made her visit to the Sphinx, arriving there always the first one of her own party, and spending therest of the day in explorations about the neighborhood. 

[Illustration: Every morning at an early hour Elizabeth Eliza made hervisit to the Sphinx. ]

Mrs. Peterkin, meanwhile, set out each day at a later hour, arrivingin time to take her noon lunch in front of the Sphinx, after which sheindulged in a comfortable nap and returned to the hotel before sunset. 

A week--indeed, ten days--passed in this way. One morning, Mrs. Peterkinand her party had taken the ferry-boat to cross the Nile. As they wereleaving the boat on the other side, in the usual crowd, Mrs. Peterkin'sattention was arrested by a familiar voice. She turned, to see a tallyoung man who, though he wore a red fez upon his head and a scarlet wraparound his neck, certainly resembled Agamemnon. But this Agamemnon wastalking Greek, with gesticulations. She was so excited that she turnedto follow him through the crowd, thus separating herself from the restof her party. At once she found herself surrounded by a mob of Arabs, inevery kind of costume, all screaming and yelling in the manner to whichshe was becoming accustomed. Poor Mrs. Peterkin plaintively protested inEnglish, exclaiming, "I should prefer a donkey!" but the Arabs could notunderstand her strange words. They had, however, struck the ear of theyoung man in the red fez whom she had been following. He turned, and shegazed at him. It was Agamemnon!

He, meanwhile, was separated from his party, and hardly knew how tograpple with the urgent Arabs. His recently acquired Greek did notassist him, and he was advising his mother to yield and mount one of thesteeds, while he followed on another, when, happily, the dragoman of herparty appeared. He administered a volley of rebukes to the persistentArabs, and bore Mrs. Peterkin to her donkey. She was thus carried awayfrom Agamemnon, who was also mounted upon a donkey by his companions. But their destination was the same; and though they could hold noconversation on the way, Agamemnon could join his mother as theyapproached the Sphinx. 

But he and his party were to ascend the pyramid before going on to theSphinx, and he advised his mother to do the same. He explained that itwas a perfectly easy thing to do. You had only to lift one of your feetup quite high, as though you were going to step on the mantelpiece, andan Arab on each side would lift you to the next step. Mrs. Peterkin wassure she could not step up on their mantelpieces at home. She never haddone it, --she never had even tried to. But Agamemnon reminded her thatthose in their own house were very high, --"old colonial;" and meanwhileshe found herself carried along with the rest of the party. 

At first the ascent was delightful to her. It seemed as if she wereflying. The powerful Nubian guides, one on each side, lifted herjauntily up, without her being conscious of motion. Having seen themdaily for some time past, she was now not much afraid of these handsomeathletes, with their polished black skins, set off by dazzling whitegarments. She called out to Agamemnon, who had preceded her, that it wascharming; she was not at all afraid. Every now and then she stopped torest on the broad cornice made by each retreating step. Suddenly, whenshe was about half-way up, as she leaned back against the step above, she found herself panting and exhausted. A strange faintness came overher. She was looking off over a beautiful scene: through the wide Libyandesert the blue Nile wound between borders of green edging, while thepicturesque minarets of Cairo, on the opposite side of the river, andthe sand in the distance beyond, gleamed with a red and yellow lightbeneath the rays of the noonday sun. 

But the picture danced and wavered before her dizzy sight. She satthere alone; for Agamemnon and the rest had passed on, thinking she wasstopping to rest. She seemed deserted, save by the speechless blackstatues, one on either side, who, as she seemed to be fainting beforetheir eyes, were looking at her in some anxiety. She saw dimly thesewild men gazing at her. She thought of Mungo Park, dying with theAfrican women singing about him. How little she had ever dreamed, whenshe read that account in her youth, and gazed at the savage Africanfaces in the picture, that she might be left to die in the same wayalone, in a strange land--and on the side of a pyramid! Her guides werekindly. One of them took her shawl to wrap about her, as she seemed tobe shivering; and as a party coming down from the top had a jar ofwater, one of her Nubians moistened a handkerchief with water and laidit upon her head. Mrs. Peterkin had closed her eyes, but she opened themagain, to see the black figures in their white draperies still standingby her. The travellers coming down paused a few minutes to wonder andgive counsel, then passed on, to make way for another party followingthem. Again Mrs. Peterkin closed her eyes, but once more opened them athearing a well-known shout, --such a shout as only one of the Peterkinfamily could give, --one of the little boys!

Yes, he stood before her, and Agamemnon was behind; they had met on topof the pyramid. 

The sight was indeed a welcome one to Mrs. Peterkin, and revived her sothat she even began to ask questions: "Where had he come from? Wherewere the other little boys? Where was Mr. Peterkin?" No one could tellwhere the other little boys were. And the sloping side of the pyramid, with a fresh party waiting to pass up and the guides eager to go down, was not just the place to explain the long, confused story. All thatMrs. Peterkin could understand was that Mr. Peterkin was now, probably, inside the pyramid, beneath her very feet! Agamemnon had found thissolitary "little boy" on top of the pyramid, accompanied by a guide andone of the party that he and his father had joined on leaving Venice. Atthe foot of the pyramid there had been some dispute in the party as towhether they should first go up the pyramid, or down inside, and in thealtercation the party was divided; the little boy had been sure that hisfather meant to go up first, and so he had joined the guide who went up. But where was Mr. Peterkin? Probably in the innermost depths of thepyramid below. As soon as Mrs. Peterkin understood this, she was eagerto go down, in spite of her late faintness; even to tumble down wouldhelp her to meet Mr. Peterkin the sooner. She was lifted from stone tostone by the careful Nubians. Agamemnon had already emptied his pocketof coins, in supplying backsheesh to his guide, and all were anxious toreach the foot of the pyramid and find the dragoman, who could answerthe demands of the others. 

Breathless as she was, as soon as she had descended, Mrs. Peterkin wasanxious to make for the entrance to the inside. Before, she had declaredthat nothing would induce her to go into the pyramid. She was afraid ofbeing lost in its stairways and shut up forever as a mummy. But now sheforgot all her terrors; she must find Mr. Peterkin at once!

She was the first to plunge down the narrow stairway after the guide, and was grateful to find the steps so easy to descend. But theypresently came out into a large, open room, where no stairway was to beseen. On the contrary, she was invited to mount the shoulders of a burlyNubian, to reach a large hole half-way up the side-wall (higher than anymantelpiece), and to crawl through this hole along the passage till sheshould reach another stairway. Mrs. Peterkin paused. Could she trustthese men? Was not this a snare to entice her into one of these narrowpassages? Agamemnon was far behind. Could Mr. Peterkin have venturedinto this treacherous place?

At this moment a head appeared through the opening above, followed by abody. It was that of one of the native guides. Voices were heard comingthrough the passage: one voice had a twang to it that surely Mrs. Peterkin had heard before. Another head appeared now, bound with a blueveil, while the eyes were hidden by green goggles. Yet Mrs. Peterkincould not be mistaken, --it was--yes, it was the head of Elizabeth Eliza!

It seemed as though that were all, it was so difficult to bring forwardany more of her. Mrs. Peterkin was screaming from below, asking if itwere indeed Elizabeth Eliza, while excitement at recognizing her mothermade it more difficult for Elizabeth Eliza to extricate herself. Buttravellers below and behind urged her on, and with the assistance of theguides, she pushed forward and almost fell into the arms of her mother. Mrs. Peterkin was wild with joy as Agamemnon and his brother joinedthem. 

"But Mr. Peterkin!" at last exclaimed their mother. "Did you seeanything of your father?"

"He is behind, " said Elizabeth Eliza. "I was looking for the body ofChufu, the founder of the pyramid, --for I have longed to be thediscoverer of his mummy, --and I found instead--my father!"

Mrs. Peterkin looked up, and at that moment saw Mr. Peterkin emergingfrom the passage above. He was carefully planting one foot on theshoulder of a stalwart Nubian guide. He was very red in the face, fromrecent exertion, but he was indeed Mr. Peterkin. On hearing the cry ofMrs. Peterkin, he tottered, and would have fallen but for the support ofthe faithful guide. 

The narrow place was scarcely large enough to hold their joy. Mrs. Peterkin was ready to faint again with her great excitement. She wantedto know what had become of the other little boys, and if Mr. Peterkinhad heard from Solomon John. But the small space was becoming more andmore crowded. The dragomans from the different parties with which thePeterkins were connected came to announce their several luncheons, andinsisted upon their leaving the pyramid. 

Mrs. Peterkin's dragoman wanted her to go on directly to the Sphinx, andshe still clung to the belief that only then would there be a completereunion of the family. Yet she could not separate herself from the rest. They could not let her go, and they were all hungry, and she herselffelt the need of food. 

But with the confusion of so many luncheons, and so much explanation tobe gone through with, it was difficult to get an answer to herquestions. 

Elizabeth and her father were involved in a discussion as to whetherthey should have met if he had not gone into the queen's chamber in thepyramid. For if he had not gone to the queen's chamber he would haveleft the inside of the pyramid before Mrs. Peterkin reached it, andwould have missed her, as he was too fatigued to make the ascent. AndElizabeth Eliza, if she had not met her father, had planned going backto the king's chamber in another search for the body of Chufu, in whichcase she would have been too late to meet her mother. Mrs. Peterkin wasnot much interested in this discussion; it was enough that they had met. But she could not get answers to what she considered more importantquestions; while Elizabeth Eliza, though delighted to meet again herfather and mother and brothers, and though interested in the fate of themissing ones, was absorbed in the Egyptian question; and the mingling ofall their interests made satisfactory intercourse impracticable. 

Where was Solomon John? What had become of the body of Chufu? HadSolomon John been telegraphed to? When had Elizabeth Eliza seen himlast? Was he Chufu or Shufu, and why Cheops? and where were the otherlittle boys?

Mr. Peterkin attempted to explain that he had taken a steamer fromMessina to the south of Italy, and a southern route to Brindisi. Bymistake he had taken the steamer from Alexandria, on its way to Venice, instead of the one that was leaving Brindisi for Alexandria at the samehour. Indeed, just as he had discovered his mistake, and had seen theother boat steaming off by his side in the other direction, too late hefancied he saw the form of Elizabeth Eliza on deck, leaning over thetaffrail (if it was a taffrail). It was a tall lady, with a blue veilwound around her hat. Was it possible? Could he have been in time toreach Elizabeth Eliza? His explanation only served to increase thenumber of questions. 

Mrs. Peterkin had many more. How had Agamemnon reached them? Had hecome to Bordeaux with them? But Agamemnon and Elizabeth Eliza werenow discussing with others the number of feet that the Great Pyramidmeasured. The remaining members of all the parties, too, whose hungerand thirst were now fully satisfied, were ready to proceed to theSphinx, which only Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza had visited. 

Side by side on their donkeys, Mrs. Peterkin attempted to learnsomething from Mr. Peterkin about the other little boys. But his donkeyproved restive: now it bore him on in swift flight from Mrs. Peterkin;now it would linger behind. His words were jerked out only at intervals. All that could be said was that they were separated; the little boyswanted to go to Vesuvius, but Mr. Peterkin felt they must hurry toBrindisi. At a station where the two trains parted--one for Naples, theother for Brindisi--he found suddenly, too late, that they were not withhim; they must have gone on to Naples. But where were they now?

VIII. 

THE LAST OF THE PETERKINS. 

The expedition up the Nile had taken place successfully. The Peterkinfamily had reached Cairo again, --at least, its scattered remnant wasthere, and they were now to consider what next. 

Mrs. Peterkin would like to spend her life in the dahabieh, [1] thoughshe could not pronounce its name, and she still felt the strangenessof the scenes about her. However, she had only to look out upon themud villages on the bank to see that she was in the veritable "Africa"she had seen pictured in the geography of her childhood. If furthercorroboration were required, had she not, only the day before, whenaccompanied by no one but a little donkey-boy, shuddered to meet astrange Nubian, attired principally in hair that stood out from hissavage face in frizzes at least half a yard long?

[Footnote 1: A boat used for transportation on the Nile. ]

But oh the comforts of no trouble in housekeeping on board the dahabieh!Never to know what they were to have for dinner, nor to be asked whatthey would like, and yet always to have a dinner you could ask chancefriends to, knowing all would be perfectly served! Some of the partywith whom they had engaged their dahabieh had even brought canned bakedbeans from New England, which seemed to make their happiness complete. 

"Though we see beans here, " said Mrs. Peterkin, "they are not 'Bostonbeans'!"

She had fancied she would have to live on stuffed ostrich (ostrichstuffed with iron filings, that the books tell of), or friedhippopotamus, or boiled rhinoceros. But she met with none of these, andday after day was rejoiced to find her native turkey appearing on thetable, with pigeons and chickens (though the chickens, to be sure, werescarcely larger than the pigeons), and lamb that was really not moretough than that of New Hampshire and the White Mountains. 

If they dined with the Arabs, there was indeed a kind of darkmolasses-gingerbread-looking cake, with curds in it, that she found ithard to eat. "But _they_ like it, " she said complacently. 

The remaining little boy, too, smiled over his pile of ripe bananas, ashe thought of the quarter-of-a-dollar-a-half-dozen green ones at thatmoment waiting at the corners of the streets at home. Indeed, it was aland for boys. There were the dates, both fresh and dried, --far morejuicy than those learned at school; and there was the gingerbread-nuttree, the dôm palm, that bore a nut tasting "like baker's gingerbreadthat has been kept a few days in the shop, " as the remaining little boyremarked. And he wished for his brothers when the live dinner came onboard their boat, at the stopping-places, in the form of good-sizedsheep struggling on the shoulders of stout Arabs, or an armful of livehens and pigeons. 

All the family (or as much of it as was present) agreed with Mrs. Peterkin's views. Amanda at home had seemed quite a blessing, but atthis distance her services, compared with the attentions of theirMaltese dragoman and the devotion of their Arab servants, seemed ofdoubtful value, and even Mrs. Peterkin dreaded returning to her tendermercies. 

"Just imagine inviting the Russian Count to dinner at home--and Amanda!"exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And he came to dinner at least three times a week on board the boat, "said the remaining little boy. 

"The Arabs are so convenient about carrying one's umbrellas and shawls, "said Elizabeth Eliza. "How I should miss Hassan in picking up my blueveil!"

The family recalled many anecdotes of the shortcomings of Amanda, asMrs. Peterkin leaned back upon her divan and wafted a fly-whisk. Mr. Peterkin had expended large sums in telegrams from every point where hefound the telegraph in operation; but there was no reply from SolomonJohn, and none from the two little boys. 

By a succession of telegrams they had learned that no one had falleninto the crater of Vesuvius in the course of the last six months, noteven a little boy. This was consoling. 

By letters from the lady from Philadelphia, they learned that she hadreceived Solomon John's telegram from Geneva at the time she heardfrom the rest of the family, and one signed "L. Boys" from Naples. Butneither of these telegrams gave an address for return answers, whichshe had, however, sent to Geneva and Naples, with the fatal omission bythe operator (as she afterward learned) of the date, as in the othertelegrams. 

Mrs. Peterkin therefore disliked to be long away from the Sphinx, andtheir excursion up the Nile had been shortened on this account. Allthe Nubian guides near the pyramids had been furnished with additionalbacksheesh and elaborate explanations from Mr. Peterkin as to how theyshould send him information if Solomon John and the little boys shouldturn up at the Sphinx, --for all the family agreed they would probablyappear in Egypt together. 

Mrs. Peterkin regretted not having any photographs to leave with theguides; but Elizabeth Eliza, alas! had lost at Brindisi the hand-bagthat contained the family photograph-book. 

Mrs. Peterkin would have liked to take up her residence near the Sphinxfor the rest of the year. But every one warned her that the heat of anEgyptian summer would not allow her to stay at Cairo, --scarcely even onthe sea-shore, at Alexandria. 

How thankful was Mrs. Peterkin, a few months after, when the war inEgypt broke out, that her wishes had not been yielded to! For manynights she could not sleep, picturing how they all might have beenmassacred by the terrible mob in Alexandria. 

Intelligence of Solomon John led them to take their departure. 

One day, they were discussing at the _table d'hôte_ their lettersfrom the lady from Philadelphia, and how they showed that Solomon Johnhad been at Geneva. 

"Ah, there was his mistake!" said Elizabeth Eliza. "The Doolittles leftMarseilles with us, and were to branch off for Geneva, and we kept on toGenoa, and Solomon John was always mistaking Genoa for Geneva, as weplanned our route. I remember there was a great confusion when they gotoff. "

"I always mix up Geneva and Genoa, " said Mrs. Peterkin. "I feel as ifthey were the same. "

"They are quite different, " said Elizabeth Eliza; "and Genoa lay in ourroute, while Geneva took him into Switzerland. "

An English gentleman, on the opposite side of the table, then spoke toMr. Peterkin. 

"I beg pardon, " he said. "I think I met one of your name in Athens. He attracted our attention because he went every day to the same spot, and he told us he expected to meet his family there, --that he had anappointment by telegraph--"

"In Athens!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. 

"Was his name Solomon John?" asked Elizabeth Eliza. 

"Were there two little boys?" inquired Mrs. Peterkin. 

"His initials were the same as mine, " replied theEnglishman, --"S. J. P. , --for some of his luggage came by mistake into myroom, and that is why I spoke of it. "

"Is there a Sphinx in Athens?" Mrs. Peterkin inquired. 

"There used to be one there, " said Agamemnon. 

"I beg your pardon, " said the Englishman, "but that Sphinx never was inAthens. "

"But Solomon John may have made the mistake, --we all make our mistakes, "said Mrs. Peterkin, tying her bonnet-strings, as if ready to go to meetSolomon John at that moment. 

"The Sphinx was at Thebes in the days of OEdipus, " said the Englishman. "No one would expect to find it anywhere in Greece at the present day. "

"But was Solomon John inquiring for it?" asked Mr. Peterkin. 

"Indeed, no!" answered the Englishman; "he went every day to the Pnyx, afamous hill in Athens, where his telegram had warned him he should meethis friends. "

"The Pnyx!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; "and how do you spell it?"

"P-n-y-x!" cried Agamemnon, --"the same letters as in Sphinx!"

"All but the _s_ and the _h_ and the _y_" said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"I often spell Sphinx with a _y_ myself, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"And a telegraph-operator makes such mistakes!" said Agamemnon. 

"His telegram had been forwarded to him from Switzerland, " said theEnglishman; "it had followed him into the dolomite region, and must havebeen translated many timed. "

"And of course they could not all have been expected to keep the lettersin the right order, " said Elizabeth Eliza. 

"And were there two little boys with him?" repeated Mrs. Peterkin. 

No; there were no little boys. But further inquiries satisfied thefamily that Solomon John must be awaiting them in Athens. And hownatural the mistake! Mrs. Peterkin said that if she had known of a Pnyx, she should surely have looked for the family there. 

Should they then meet Solomon John at the Pnyx, or summon him to Egypt?It seemed safer to go directly to Athens, especially as Mr. Peterkin andAgamemnon were anxious to visit that city. 

It was found that a steamer would leave Alexandria next day for Athens, by way of Smyrna and Constantinople. This was a roundabout course;but Mr. Peterkin was impatient to leave, and was glad to gain moreacquaintance with the world. Meanwhile they could telegraph their plansto Solomon John, as the English gentleman could give them the address ofhis hotel. 

And Mrs. Peterkin did not now shrink from another voyage. Her experienceon the Nile had made her forget her sufferings in crossing the Atlantic, and she no longer dreaded entering another steamboat. Their delight inriver navigation, indeed, had been so great that the whole family hadlistened with interest to the descriptions given by their Russianfellow-traveller of steamboat navigation on the Volga--"the mostbeautiful river in the world, " as he declared. Elizabeth Eliza and Mr. Peterkin were eager to try it, and Agamemnon remarked that such a tripwould give them an opportunity to visit the renowned fair atNijninovgorod. Even Mrs. Peterkin had consented to this expedition, provided they should meet Solomon John and the other little boys. 

She started, therefore, on a fresh voyage without any dread, forgettingthat the Mediterranean, if not so wide as the Atlantic, is still a sea, and often as tempestuous and uncomfortably "choppy. " Alas! she was soonto be awakened from her forgetfulness: the sea was the same old enemy. 

As they passed up among the Ionian Isles, and she heard Agamemnon andElizabeth Eliza and their Russian friend (who was accompanying them toConstantinople) talking of the old gods of Greece, she fancied that theywere living still, and that Neptune and the classic waves were wreakingtheir vengeance on them, and pounding and punishing them for venturingto rule them with steam. She was fairly terrified. As they enteredSmyrna she declared she would never enter any kind of a boat again, andthat Mr. Peterkin must find some way by which they could reach home byland. 

How delightful it was to draw near the shore, on a calm afternoon, --evento trust herself to the charge of the boatmen in leaving the ship, andto reach land once more and meet the tumult of voices and people! Herewere the screaming and shouting usual in the East, and the same brightarray of turbans and costumes in the crowd awaiting them. But awell-known voice reached them, and from the crowd rose a well-knownface. Even before they reached the land they had recognized its owner. With his American dress, he looked almost foreign in contrast to theotherwise universal Eastern color. A tall figure on either side seemed, also, each to have a familiar air. 

Were there three Solomon Johns?

No; it was Solomon John and the two other little boys--but grown so thatthey were no longer little boys. Even Mrs. Peterkin was unable torecognize them at first. But the tones of their voices, their ways, wereas natural as ever. Each had a banana in his hand, and pockets stuffedwith oranges. 

Questions and answers interrupted each other in a most confusingmanner:--

"Are you the little boys?"

"Where have you been?"

"Did you go to Vesuvius?"

"How did you get away?"

"Why didn't you come sooner?"

"Our India-rubber boots stuck in the hot lava. "

"Have you been there all this time?"

"No; we left them there. "

"Have you had fresh dates?"

"They are all gone now, but the dried ones are better than thosesqueezed ones we have at home. "

"How you have grown!"

"Why didn't you telegraph?"

"Why did you go to Vesuvius, when Papa said he couldn't?"

"Did you, too, think it was Pnyx?"

"Where have you been all winter?"

"Did you roast eggs in the crater?"

"When did you begin to grow?"

The little boys could not yet thoroughly explain themselves; they alwaystalked together and in foreign languages, interrupting each other, andnever agreeing as to dates. 

Solomon John accounted for his appearance in Smyrna by explaining thatwhen he received his father's telegram in Athens, he decided to meetthem at Smyrna. He was tired of waiting at the Pnyx. He had but justlanded, and came near missing his family, and the little boys too, whohad reached Athens just as he was leaving it. None of the family wishednow to continue their journey to Athens, but they had the advice andassistance of their Russian friend in planning to leave the steamer atConstantinople; they would, by adopting this plan, be _en route_for the proposed excursion to the Volga. 

Mrs. Peterkin was overwhelmed with joy at having all her family togetheronce more; but with it a wave of homesickness surged over her. They wereall together; why not go home?

It was found that there was a sailing-vessel bound absolutely for Maine, in which they might take passage. No more separation; no more mistakes;no more tedious study of guide-books; no more weighing of baggage. Everytrunk and bag, every Peterkin, could be placed in the boat, and safelylanded on the shores of home. It was a temptation, and at one time Mrs. Peterkin actually pleaded for it. 

But there came a throbbing in her head, a swimming in her eyes, aswaying of the very floor of the hotel. Could she bear it, day afterday, week after week? Would any of them be alive? And Constantinople notseen, nor steam-navigation on the Volga!

And so new plans arose, and wonderful discoveries were made, and thefuture of the Peterkin family was changed forever. 

In the first place a strange stout gentleman in spectacles had followedthe Peterkin family to the hotel, had joined in the family councils, andhad rendered valuable service in negotiating with the officers of thesteamer for the cancellation of their through tickets to Athens. Hedined at the same table, and was consulted by the (formerly) littleboys. 

Who was he?

They explained that he was their "preceptor. " It appeared that afterthey parted from their father, the little boys had become mixed up withsome pupils who were being taken by their preceptor to Vesuvius. Forsome time he had not noticed that his party (consisting of boys of theirown age) had been enlarged; and after finding this out, he had concludedthey were the sons of an English family with whom he had beencorresponding. He was surprised that no further intelligence came withthem, and no extra baggage. They had, however, their hand-bags; andafter sending their telegram to the lady from Philadelphia, they assuredhim that all would be right. But they were obliged to leave Naples thevery day of despatching the telegram, and left no address to which ananswer could be sent. The preceptor took them, with his pupils, directlyback to his institution in Gratz, Austria, from which he had taken themon this little excursion. 

It was not till the end of the winter that he discovered that hisyouthful charges--whom he had been faithfully instructing, and who hadfound the gymnasium and invigorating atmosphere so favorable togrowth--were not the sons of his English correspondent, whom he hadsupposed, from their explanations, to be travelling in America. 

He was, however, intending to take his pupils to Athens in the spring, and by this time the little boys were able to explain themselves betterin his native language. They assured him they should meet their familyin the East, and the preceptor felt it safe to take them upon the trackproposed. 

It was now that Mr. Peterkin prided himself upon the plan he hadinsisted upon before leaving home. "Was it not well, " he exclaimed, "that I provided each of you with a bag of gold, for use in case ofemergency, hidden in the lining of your hand-bags?"

This had worked badly for Elizabeth Eliza, to be sure, who had left hersat Brindisi; but the little boys had been able to pay some of theirexpenses, which encouraged the preceptor to believe he might trust themfor the rest. So much pleased were all the family with the preceptorthat they decided that all three of the little boys should continueunder his instructions, and return with him to Gratz. This decision mademore easy the other plans of the family. 

Both Agamemnon and Solomon John had decided they would like to beforeign consuls. They did not much care where, and they would accept anyappointment; and both, it appeared, had written on the subject to theDepartment at Washington. Agamemnon had put in a plea for a vacancy atMadagascar, and Solomon John hoped for an opening at Rustchuk, Turkey;if not there, at Aintab, Syria. Answers were expected, which were nowtelegraphed for, to meet them in Constantinople. 

Meanwhile Mr. Peterkin had been consulting the preceptor and the RussianCount about a land-journey home. More and more Mrs. Peterkin determinedshe could not and would not trust herself to another voyage, though sheconsented to travel by steamer to Constantinople. If they went as far asNijninovgorod, which was now decided upon, why could they not perseverethrough "Russia in Asia"?

Their Russian friend at first shook his head at this, but at last agreedthat it might be possible to go on from Novgorod comfortably to Tobolsk, perhaps even from there to Yakoutsk, and then to Kamtschatka. 

"And cross at Behring's Strait!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. "It looks sonarrow on the map. "

"And then we are in Alaska, " said Mr. Peterkin. 

"And at home, " exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin, "and no more voyages. "

But Elizabeth Eliza doubted about Kamtschatka and Behring's Strait, andthought it would be very cold. 

"But we can buy furs on our way, " insisted Mrs. Peterkin. 

"And if you do not find the journey agreeable, " said their Russianfriend, "you can turn back from Yakoutsk, even from Tobolsk, and come tovisit us. "

Yes--_us_! For Elizabeth Eliza was to marry the Russian Count!

He had been in a boat that was behind them on the Nile, had met themoften, had climbed the ruins with them, joined their excursions, and hadfinally proposed at Edfu. 

Elizabeth Eliza had then just written to consult the lady fromPhiladelphia with regard to the offer of a German professor they hadmet, and she could give no reply to the Count. 

Now, however, it was necessary to make a decision. She had meanwhilelearned a few words of Russian. The Count spoke English moderately well, made himself understood better than the Professor, and could understandElizabeth Eliza's French. Also the Count knew how to decide questionsreadily, while the Professor had to consider both sides before he couldmake up his mind. 

Mrs. Peterkin objected strongly at first. She could not even pronouncethe Russian's name. "How should she be able to speak to him, or tellanybody whom Elizabeth Eliza had married?" But finally the family allgave their consent, won by the attention and devotion of ElizabethEliza's last admirer. 

The marriage took place in Constantinople, not at Santa Sophia, asElizabeth Eliza would have wished, as that was under a Mohammedandispensation. A number of American residents were present, and thepreceptor sent for his other pupils in Athens. Elizabeth Eliza wishedthere was time to invite the lady from Philadelphia to be present, andAnn Maria Bromwick. Would the name be spelled right in the newspapers?All that could be done was to spell it by telegraph as accurately aspossible, as far as they themselves knew how, and then leave the papersto do their best (or their worst) in their announcements of the wedding"at the American Consulate, Constantinople, Turkey. No cards. "

The last that was ever heard of the Peterkins, Agamemnon was on his wayto Madagascar, Solomon John was at Rustchuk, and the little boys atGratz; Mr. And Mrs. Peterkin, in a comfortable sledge, were on their wayfrom Tobolsk to Yakoutsk; and Elizabeth Eliza was passing her honeymoonin the neighborhood of Moscow. 

 * * * * *

OTHERS OF THEIR KIN. 

 * * * * *

IX. 

LUCILLA'S DIARY. 

MONDAY. --I spent some time this morning watching for the rag-man. I wishI had taken down a note which day it was I saw him before. I remember itwas washing-day, for I had to take my hands out of the tub and wipe thesuds off when Johnnie came to tell me that the rag-man was on thestreet. He was just turning the corner by the Wylies when I got to thefront gate. But whether we washed on Monday I can't think. It rainedthat Monday, or the week before, and we had to wait till Tuesday; butwhich it was I couldn't say. I was in such a whirl fitting Artemas off, and much as ever I made him hear; and he wasn't the right man after all, for he wouldn't give more than a cent and a half a pound for the papers, and Mrs. Carruthers got two cents. She could not remember what was hisday for coming, but agreed to send him if she should see him again. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Carruthers sent the rag-man to-day; but I can't say much for thebargain, though he was a different man from the one that came Monday, and it seems it was Monday. He agreed to give me the same he gave Mrs. Carruthers, --two cents a pound. And I had a lot of newspapers, --all thepapers Artemas has been taking through the winter; for he doesn't likeme to take them for kindlings, says he would rather pay separate forkindlings, as I might burn the wrong one. And there were the papers thatcame around his underclothes and inside the packing boxes he has takenaway. So I expected to make something; but he gave me no more thanforty-five cents! He weighed them, and said himself there were thirtypounds. That ought to have come to sixty cents at least, accordingto my arithmetic. But he made out it was all right, and had them allpacked up, and went off, though I followed him out to the gate and toldhim that it didn't amount to no more than I might have got from theother man at a cent and a half. He said it was all they were worth; thathe wished he could get as much for them. Then I asked him why he tookthe trouble to come for them, under the circumstances. But by that timehe was off and down the street. 

 * * * * *

I was just sitting at the window this morning, and there were Mr. AndMrs. Peebles walking down the street, --he on one side and she on theother. I do wonder why they didn't go on the same side! If they hadn'tgot so far past the gate, I'd have asked them. I never heard there wasany quarrel between them, and it was just as muddy this side of thestreet as that. They have been spending their winters in the citylately, and perhaps it's some new fashion. 

I declare it's worth while to sit at the window now and then, and seewhat is going on. I'm usually so busy at the back of the house, I don'tknow. But now Lavinia has taken to going to school with the boys, andthey are willing to take care of her, half my work seems taken out of myhands. Not that she was much in the way for a girl of four, but shemight slip out of the gate at any time, as there are so many of thosegrinding organs around with their monkeys. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Carruthers was in yesterday afternoon, and she said the Peebleswere looking up the numbers on the doors to find the Wylies. They gotpuzzled because the numbers go up one side of the street and down theother, and they haven't but just been put on. And it seems that up inthe city they have them go across. It does appear to me shiftless in ourtown officers, when they undertook to have the streets numbered as theydo elsewhere, that they didn't number them the same way. But I can't seebut our way is as good, and more sensible than having to cross a muddystreet to look up the next number. 

 * * * * *

Artemas has been gone a whole week. I told him I would put down the mostimportant things in a diary, and then he can look at it, if he has time, when he comes home. He thinks it is a more sensible way than writingletters every week. 

He expects to be up and down in Texas, and perhaps across the mountains;and in those lawless countries letters would not stand muchchance, --maybe they wouldn't ever reach him, after I'd had the troubleof writing them. There's the expense of stamps too, --not so very muchfor one letter, but it counts up. 

Nothing worries me more than getting a letter, unless it's having atelegraph come, --and that does give one a start. But even that's soonerover and quicker read; while for a letter, it's long, and it takes agood while to get to the end. I feel it might be a kind of waste of timeto write in my diary; but not more than writing letters, and it savesthe envelopes and hunting them up. I'm not likely to find much time foreither, for the boys are fairly through their winter suits; if I canonly keep them along while the spring hangs off so. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Norris was in yesterday, just as I was writing about the boys'suits, to know if I would let Martha off to work for her after thewashing is over. I told her I didn't like to disoblige, but I couldn'tsee my way clear to get along without Martha. The boys ought to behaving their spring suits this very minute, and Martha was calculatingto make them this week; and they'd have to have their first wear of themSundays for a while before they start on them for school. I never was sobehindhand; but what with fitting off Artemas and the spring cleaningbeing delayed, I didn't seem to know how to manage. Martha is good atmaking over, and there are two very good coats of Artemas's that shewould do the right thing by; while there was a good many who could scruband clean as well as she, --there was that Nora that used to live atPatty's. But Mrs. Norris did not take to Nora. The Wylies tried her, butcould make nothing out of her. I said I thought it would be hard to findthe person Mrs. Wylie could get on with. Not that I ever knew anythingabout her till she came to live on our street last winter, but they dosay she's just as hard on her own family; for there's a story that shewon't let that pretty daughter of hers, Clara, marry Bob Prince's son, Larkin. 

Mrs. Norris said she didn't wonder, for Larkin Prince hadn't foundanything to do since he came home. I thought there was enough to liveupon in the Wylie family, even if Larkin didn't find something the firstminute he'd got his education. 

 * * * * *

I can see that Mrs. Norris didn't take it well that I was not willing togive up Martha; but I don't really see why I should be the one to giveup. But I must say I haven't got on as well with the work as I hadhoped, Lavinia's going with the boys so much keeps her clothes half tornoff her back, and I can't seem to see how to make her tidy. I was realashamed when I went to lift her out of a mud-puddle yesterday outsidethe gate; and there was Clara Wylie looking as clean as a white lily, and she stopped to help her out. It seemed that Lavinia had left herboot in the last mud-puddle, and I would have liked to have gone throughthe ground. I hope it will be a lesson to Lavinia, for Miss Wylieoughtn't to have touched her with her hand. But she did, yellow glovesand all, and said it was dreadful walking now, the frost so late comingout of the ground, and she had quite envied Lavinia running across thefields after the boys. But Lavinia has taken to envying Miss Wylie, andwishes she could wear that kind of boots she has, with high heels thatkeep her out of the mud-puddles. 

 * * * * *

I am thinking of having my ruby cashmere colored over. I don't seem tofeel like ripping it all up, pleatings and all; but Mrs. Peebles saysit can be dipped just as well made up, and I needn't take out a seam. I might have it a kind of dark olive, like Mrs. Carruthers' dress. 

 * * * * *

I have had a start! It is a letter from Artemas; nothing particularabout himself, only I should say he was well. But he wants to takeout a young man farther west with him, --somebody with something of aneducation, who understands chemicals or engineering, and he wants me topick out somebody. There's my brother Sam, of course. I thought of himthe first thing. But Artemas never took to Sam, though he is my brother. Still, I dare say he would do right by him. And Sam don't seem to findthe work here that suits, and I hate to have him hanging round. But hedon't know more than I about chemicals, as much as even what they are, though I dare say he could find out, for Sam is smart and always couldmake out if he chose to lay his hands to anything. And I dare sayArtemas thought of Sam, and that is why he sent to me to give him achance. From what he says it must be a pretty good chance, exactly whatSam would like if he knew anything about the business. I dare say he'ddo quite as well as half the fellows who might go. He can be steady ifhe's a mind to. 

But I can't but think of Larkin Prince; how he's taken all the pains toget an education, and his father for him laying up money for the verypurpose, and that pretty Clara Wylie waiting to be married till heshould get something fit to do, and maybe her father wanting to marryher off to some rich man while she's waiting, when her heart is set onLarkin. And he'd be just the man for Artemas, seeing as he's beenstudying just such things. 

 * * * * *

It wasn't no use taking up the time writing in my diary, as Artemas musthave a telegraph before night, and the boys home from school to know ifthey might go to the swamp after checkerberries, and Lavinia with them, and I let her go, clean apron and all, and I put on my bonnet to go overto Mrs. Prince's. It made my heart bump to think how much Sam would seton having the situation, and Artemas kind of expecting him; but I saidto myself, if Larkin should be out of town, or anything, that wouldsettle the matter for Sam. 

As it happened, who should I meet but Larkin just at the gate! and Iasked him if he would turn back and step in with me for a minute. Helooked kind of provoked, and I shouldn't wonder if he hadn't expected tomeet Clara Wylie coming out of her gate just below, as it's natural sheshould at this time. But he came in, and I gave him Artemas's letter toread, for there wasn't anything in it except particulars of the work. Hequite started as he read it, and then he looked at me inquiring, and Iasked him if he had the kind of knowledge Artemas wanted. I supposed hemight have it, as he'd been to the new schools. It told in the letterabout the expenses, and what the pay would be, and where he would findthe free pass, and that he'd have to telegraph right off, and perhaps henoticed he'd have to start to-night. Well, I guess he needn't care evento thank me; for that look in his face was enough, and I shan't forgetit. He wanted to know was it Artemas thought of him. But before I couldanswer, he saw somebody out in the street, and went to rushing out, onlyhe gave me another of those looks as he went, and said he'd see mebefore he sent the telegraph, and would take any message from me toArtemas. 

 * * * * *

I hadn't more than time to write this yesterday, when Mrs. Norris camein to inquire about some garden seeds, but I guess she expected to findout what Larkin Prince had been in for, for she was calling over at Mrs. Carruthers'. I offered her some squash seeds, and took her out the backway, through the garden, to show her how the squashes were likely tospread. Last summer they were all over the garden. It seems the onlything the boys let to grow. 

She hadn't more than gone when Larkin came in. It was all settled, andother things seemed to be settled too; for who should come in with himbut Clara Wylie, crying and smiling all at once. She had to come andhelp Larkin to thank me because he had got the place. After he was goneshe came back for a little cry. She didn't seem to wonder that Larkinwas the one chosen, and supposed Artemas must have known all about him, she said, as well as the company he is working for. They probably hadseen his name in the papers, she thought, when he graduated so honorablyfrom the school. 

I didn't tell her that there wasn't any company; that Artemas never hadtime to read that kind of thing in the newspapers, and would not havenoticed it if he had; and that he'd left it all to me. 

I can't but say after it was all settled I had a kind of a turn myself, to think that Sam might have gone just as well, and I had been standingin his way. 

 * * * * *

I shall have to let down Lavinia's gowns full two inches this summer. Lucky I put tucks in them all last year. Mrs. Carruthers wanted me tofinish them off with a frill; lucky I didn't, it would have been up toher ears this summer. As for the boys, I can take them in turn, --lastyear's clothes for the next boy all the way down, and Cyrus can have hisfather's. But it seems harder to fit out Lavinia. The ruby cashmere isas good for me as new; it is dipped. 

 * * * * *

I'm real sorry about the Jones's losing their cow; it comes hard forthem. It's better for our potato patch, particularly if they do not haveanother. Cyrus ought to fence it in. 

Sam came in last night. He had heard that Larkin Prince was summoned offby a company out West, for work that would pay, and would set him up foryears, and he had a free pass, and old Wylie had given his consent tohis marrying Clara. Some people, he said, had luck come to them withouttrying for it, just standing round. There was he himself had beenlooking for just such work last year, and nobody had thought of him. 

 * * * * *

I hope I wasn't hard on Sam. I couldn't help telling him if he'd gone upto the schools, as Larkin Prince did, and he might have done, he couldhave made himself fit for an engineer or a chemical agent. Well, it tookhim kind of surprised, and I agreed to go round this evening, whenfather is at home, and talk to father and mother about Sam's going tosome of them schools. At least he might try; and, anyhow, it would gethim out of the kind of company he's taken a fancy to. 

I must say I didn't think of how he'd feel about Clara Wylie; but, ofcourse, her father would never have given Sam any encouragement morethan Larkin. And as for Clara Wylie--well, I saw her look at Larkinthat night. 

 * * * * *

I don't know but I made a mistake in sending so many of his woollensocks to Artemas by Larkin Prince. Perhaps I had better have sent moreof the cotton ones. Larkin said he would tell him we were all well, andhow he found us. Lavinia had gone up to bed, and was hollering to meto come up to her, and Cyrus slung Silas's cap into the window, and itmost hit Larkin; Silas came in after it through the window, and the restof the boys were pounding on the barn door, where they were having amilitia meeting, or some kind of a parade, with half the boys in town. So Artemas will know things goes on about as usual. 

 * * * * *

An excellent sermon from Mr. Jenkins today. I can't seem to think whatit was about, to put it down; but we are all of us more and more pleasedwith him as a minister. You can't expect all things of any man; and ifa minister preaches a good sermon twice a Sunday and perhaps at eveningmeeting, and goes around among the people as much as Mr. Jenkins, andholds meetings through the week, and Bible class every Friday evening, and sits by the bedside of the sick and the dying, and gives a hand inhis own farming or a neighbor's, and stands on the committee for theschools, I don't know as you can expect much more of him. 

Mrs. Carruthers says there's a talk of the Peebles moving up to the cityfor good and all. I should think they might as well go as careening backand forth, spring and fall; though she says they will still go down tothe seashore or up to the mountains, summers. When I had a home, I willsay, I liked to stay in it. 

There, now! I do believe that I have not mentioned in my diary that ourhouse is burned down, and much as ever we all got out alive, coming inthe night so. I suppose I ought to have put it in as being one of theprincipal events; but somehow I have been so unsettled since the fire, Ihaven't seemed to think to write it down. And, of course, Artemas wouldsee from the depot, the minute he arrived, that the house wasn't there, and he wouldn't need to wait and read about it in my diary; and I havebeen pretty busy getting set to rights again. Everything being burnt, there 's all the summer clothes to be made over again, except a fewthings I brought off in a bundle along with the diary. Still, it mighthave been better than writing about my neighbors, as I did about thePeebles. 

 * * * * *

Mr. Jenkins came in as I was writing. He says that diaries are goodthings, and if you didn't put in only your thoughts in a sentimentalkind of way, they'd be useful for posterity. I told him I didn't writefor posterity, but for Artemas, instead of a letter. He was surprisedI hadn't written him about the fire, as the news might reach himexaggerated. I could not help from laughing, for I don't see how itcould be made out much worse, --the house burnt down, and the barn withthe horse in it, and Cyrus's crop of squashes. Much as ever we got outalive, and I had to come to rooms--two pair, back. I did bring the diaryout in my apron. 

Mr. Jenkins spoke of the insurance, and maybe Artemas might havesomething to say about that; but we talked it all over the night beforehe went away, and he spoke of the insurance being out, and he didn'tthink it worth while to renew; there never had been a fire, and itwasn't likely there would be. 

 * * * * *

Mrs. Carruthers came in to inquire when was a good time to try out soap. I told her I managed generally to do it when Artemas wasn't at home, ashe was not partial to the smell in the house. But Mr. Carruthers neverdoes go away, and she doesn't believe he'd notice it. I don't know butI'd rather have my husband coming and going like Artemas, instead ofsticking around not noticing, especially if he was Mr. Carruthers. 

 * * * * *

Clara Wylie has been with letters in her hands, and it seems she wroteto Larkin Prince all about our fire; how our boys dropped matches in thehay, and the fire spread to the house from the barn, and how we werewaked up, and had to hurry out just as we were. I don't believe she toldhow the Wylies took us in that night, and found us these rooms at theiraunt Marshall's till Artemas comes home. But it seems that Artemas hastold Larkin it ain't no kind of consequence, the house burning down, because he never liked it facing the depot, and he'll be glad to buildagain, and has money enough for it, and can satisfy the neighbors ifthere's a complaint that our boys burned down all that side of thestreet, with being careless with their matches. And there was a noteinclosed to me from Artemas. He says he'd had a kind of depressed time, when things were going wrong, but matters began to look up when LarkinPrince came, who had just the information needed. So it's just as wellI didn't write about the fire. I hope Artemas don't talk too large abouthis earning so much; anyhow, I shall try to get along spending next tonothing, and earning what I can making buttonholes. 

 * * * * *

I've made over my ruby cashmere for Lavinia, and I'm sorry now thatI had it dyed over so dark, the olive is kind of dull for her; but Ican't seem to lay my hand on anything else for her, and she must havesomething. Lucky it was lying on the chair, close by the door, so Ibrought it off from the fire. 

 * * * * *

Artemas has come home. 

X. 

JEDIDIAH'S NOAH'S ARK. 

I. 

"I don't see how we can ever get them back again, " said Mr. Dyer. 

"Why should not we ask the 'grateful people'?" asked Jedidiah. 

To explain what Jedidiah and his father meant, I shall have to tell howit was Jedidiah came to have a Noah's Ark, and all about it, for it wasa little odd. 

Jedidiah was the son of poor parents. His father lived in a small, neathouse, and owned a little farm. It was not much of a place; but heworked hard, and raised vegetables upon it, mostly potatoes. But Mrs. Dyer liked string-beans and peas; so they had a few of these, andpumpkins, when the time came; but we have nothing to do with them atpresent. If I began to tell you what Mrs. Dyer liked, it would take agreat while, because there are marrow-squashes and cranberry-beans, though she did not care so much for tomatoes; but vegetables do helpout, and don't cost as much as butcher's meat, if you don't keep sheep;but hens Mrs. Dyer did keep. It was the potatoes that were mostsuccessful, for it was one summer when everybody's potatoes had failed. They had all kinds of diseases, especially at Spinville, near which Mr. Dyer lived. Some were rotten in the middle, some had specks outside;some were very large and bad, some were small and worse; and in manyfields there were none at all. But Mr. Dyer's patch flourishedmarvellously. So, after he had taken in all he wanted for himself, hetold his wife he was going to ask the people of Spinville to come andget what they wanted. 

"Now, Mr. Dyer!" said his wife. She did not say much else; but what shemeant was, that if he had any potatoes to spare, he had better sell themthan give them away. Mr. Dyer was a poor man; why should not he make alittle money?

But Mr. Dyer replied that he had no cart and horse to take the potatoesto Spinville with, and no time either. He had agreed to mow the deacon'soff-lot, and he was not going to disappoint the deacon, even if heshould get a couple of dollars by it; and he wasn't going to let hispotatoes rot, when all Spinville was in want of potatoes. So Mr. Dyerset to work, and printed in large letters on a sheet of paper thesewords: "All persons in want of potatoes, apply to J. Dyer, CranberryLane, Wednesday, the fifteenth, after seven o'clock, A. M. Gratis. "

The last word was added after Mr. Dyer had pasted the notice against thetown hall of Spinville; for so many people came up to bother him withquestions as to how much he was going to ask for his potatoes, that hewas obliged to add this by way of explanation, or he would never havegot to the deacon's off-lot Tuesday morning. 

Wednesday morning, Mrs. Dyer sat by the front window, with her darning. She had persuaded Mr. Dyer to wait till Wednesday; for as for having allthe people tramping through the yard when the clean clothes were out, she couldn't think of it; and she might as well get through the ironing, then she could have an eye on them. And how provoked they'd all be tocome down all that way to Cranberry Hollow, to find only a bin ofpotatoes to divide among them all. 

The little shed was full of potatoes, Mr. Dyer answered. And he had noidea many people would come, just the poorer ones; and as long as he hadany potatoes to spare, he was willing they should take them. 

But, sure enough, as Mrs. Dyer said, what a procession came! Poor Mrs. Jones's little girl, with a bag; Tom Scraggs, with two baskets; theminister's son, with a wheelbarrow; and even rich Mr. Jones, theselectman, with a horse and cart. Boys and girls, and old women, andmiddle-sized men, and every kind of a vehicle, from a tin tipcart toMrs. Stubbs's carry-all. 

Well, let them come, thought Mrs. Dyer. It would just show Mr. Dyer shewas right, and he didn't often find that out. She should be disturbed bythem soon enough when they found out that there was not more than half apotato apiece, and like enough, not that. Pretty business of Mr. Dyer, to take to giving away, when he had not more than enough to put into hisown mouth, to say nothing of Jedidiah's! So she went on darning andthinking. What was her surprise, all of a sudden, to hear only shoutsof joy as the people returned round the corner of the house! Poor Mrs. Jones's little girl gave a scream of delight as she held up her bag fullof potatoes; the minister's son had hard work to push along his fullwheelbarrow; rich Mr. Jones was laughing from the top of his piled-upcart; Tom Scraggs was trying to get help in carrying his baskets. Sucha laughing, such fun, was never heard in Spinville, which is a soberplace. And they all nodded to Mrs. Dyer, and gave shouts for Mr. Dyer, and offered Jedidiah rides in all their carts, those that had them, andasked Mrs. Dyer what they could do for her in Spinville. And Jedidiahtried to tell his mother, through the open window, how the more theytook the potatoes out of the bin, the more there were left in it; andhow everybody had enough, and went away satisfied, and had filled theirpockets; and even one of the boys was planning a quill popgun for slicedpotato, such as the worst boys had not dreamed of all summer. He was abad boy from the Meadow. 

"Well, Mr. Dyer!" said Mrs. Dyer, all day, and again when he came homeat night. 

Of course the Spinville people thought a great deal from this time ofMr. Dyer; and there was a town council held to consider what they shoulddo to express their feelings to him. He had declined six times beingmade selectman, and he did not want to ring the bell as sexton. Theredid not seem to be anything in the way of an office they could offer himthat he would accept. 

At last Mr. Jones suggested that the best way to please the father wasto give something to the son. "Something for Jedidiah!" exclaimed Mr. Jones. "The next time I go to New York, I'll go to a toy-shop; I'll buysomething for Jedidiah. "

So he did. He came home with the Noah's Ark. It was a moderate-sizedark, painted blue, as usual, with red streaks, and a slanting roof, helddown with a crooked wire. It was brought to Jedidiah, one evening, justas he was going to bed; so the crooked wire was not lifted, for Mrs. Dyer thought he had better go to bed at his time and get up early andlook at his ark. But he could not sleep well, thinking of his ark. Itstood by his bedside, and all night long he heard a great racket insideof it. There was a roaring and a grunting and a squeaking, --all kinds ofstrange noises. In the moonlight he thought he saw the roof move; if thewire had not been so crooked it surely would have opened. But it didn't, not till he took it downstairs, and Mrs. Dyer had got out herironing-board, that the animals might be spread out upon it; thenJedidiah lifted the roof. 

What a commotion there was then! The elephant on the top, and his trunkstretched out; in a minute or two he would have unfastened the wire; thegiraffe's long neck was stretched out; one dove flew away directly, andsome crows sat on the eaves. Mr. And Mrs. Dyer and Jedidiah startedback, while the elephant with his trunk helped out some of the smalleranimals, who stepped into rows on the ironing-board as fast as they weretaken out. 

The cows were mooing, the cats mewing, the dogs barking, the pigsgrunting. Presently Noah's head appeared, and he looked round for hiswife; and then came Shem and Ham and Japheth with their wives. Theyhelped out some of the birds, --white, with brown spots, --geese, andducks. It took the elephant and Noah and all his sons to get the horsesout, plunging and curvetting as they were. Some sly foxes got out ofthemselves, leaping from the roof to the back of a kneeling camel. 

Jedidiah's eyes sparkled with joy. Mrs. Dyer sat with folded hands, andsaid, "Why, Mr. Dyer!" And Mr. Dyer occasionally helped a stray donkey, whose legs were caught, or a turkey fluttering on the edge. At last agreat roaring and growling was heard at the bottom of the ark. Theelephant nodded his trunk to the giraffe; the camel was evidentlydispleased; Noah and his sons stood together looking up at the roof. 

"It's the wild animals, " said Jedidiah. 

"If they should get out, " thought Mrs. Dyer; "all the wild tigers andthe lions loose in the house!" And she looked round to see if the closetdoor were open for a place of retreat. 

Mr. Dyer stepped up and shut the roof of the ark. It was in time; for alarge bear was standing on his hind legs on the back of a lion, and waslooking out. Noah and his family looked much pleased; the elephantswaved their trunks with joy; the camels stopped growling. 

"I don't wonder they are glad to get out, " said Jedidiah. "I do believethey have been treading down those wild animals all night. "

Mrs. Dyer wondered what they should do with the rest. Come Tuesday shewould want her ironing-board, --perhaps baking-day, to set the pies on. 

"They ought to have some houses to live in, and barns, " said Jedidiah. Then it was Mr. Dyer had said they could never get them back into theark; and Jedidiah had said, "We might ask the 'grateful people, '"--forthis was the name the inhabitants of Spinville went by in the Dyerfamily ever since the time of the potatoes. 

The story of their coming for the potatoes had been told over and overagain; then how the "people" felt so grateful to Mr. Dyer. Mr. Dyer saidhe was tired of hearing about it. Mrs. Dyer thought if they meant to doanything to let Mr. Dyer see they were grateful, they had better nottalk so much about it. But Jedidiah called them the "grateful people;"and it was he that caught the first glimpse of the procession when itcame up with the ark, Mr. Jones at the head. He had some faith in them;so it was he that thought there ought to be a village built for Noah andhis family; and when Mr. Dyer had some doubts about building it hesuggested, "Let's ask the 'grateful people. '"

What they did will be told in another chapter. 

II. 

ABOUT THE GRATEFUL PEOPLE AND THE WILD BEASTS. 

That very afternoon there was a great rush to see Jedidiah's Noah's Ark, and there was immense enthusiasm about it. Some brave ones opened theroof and looked in upon the growling wild animals. The girls liked thelambs the best; the boys were delighted with the foxes that jumped onthe edge of the boat that formed the ark. 

In a day or two there was a flourishing little village built on a smoothplace on the other side of Mr. Dyer's house. The minister's daughter hadbrought a little toy village she had with red roofs, and one of the menscooped out the houses, which were made of one block of wood, but couldnow accommodate Noah and his family, and each one picked out a house tomatch the color of his garments. 

Tom Stubbs built a barn of wooden bricks for the larger animals, andLucy Miles brought a pewter bird-cage, with a door that would open andshut, for the birds. The elephant knocked out a brick with his trunk assoon as he went into the barn, but that made a good window for him tolook out of. Jedidiah himself made the loveliest coop for the hen; andthe boys had a nice time over a pond they dug in the mud, for the ducks. 

Indeed, it occupied Spinville for some time; and Noah, Shem, and Hamdid not sit down much, but looked very busy. There was a fence builtround the whole village, high enough to keep in the elephants and thegiraffes, though they could look over. There was a bit of pasture-landshut in for the cows, who fell to nibbling as soon as they were put init. A clover-leaf lasted one of the sheep two days. The tinman sentsome little tin dippers no bigger than a thimble, and the children weredelighted to see the animals drink. The boys handed one of the dippersinto the ark for the tigers. The giraffes found a bush just high enoughfor them to eat from. The doves sat on the eaves of the ark, andAgamemnon brought some pickled olives, as he had no olive-branch forthem. 

The children were never tired of seeing the camels kneel and rise. Theymade them carry little burdens, --stones that were to be cleared from thefield, chips from the henhouse. Sometimes the camels growled; then thechildren took off a chip or two from their burdens, --the last ounce, they thought. 

The "grateful people" sent a large umbrella, used by the umbrella-makerfor a sign, that could be opened over the whole village in case of arain; and the toy-shop man sent a tin teapot, though Mrs. Dyer did notventure to give Noah and his family any real tea; but it was a verypretty teapot, with a red flower upon it. Mrs. Noah liked it, though itwas almost large enough for the whole family to get into. 

All this was not the work of a day, by any means. First, all Spinvillehad to come and look at the things, and then it had to discuss the wholeaffair. Mrs. Dyer's knitting got on bravely, for so many of her friendscame in to sit in her best parlor, and talk it all over. Mrs. Dyeragreed with them; she thought it was all very strange. She should bethankful if only the tigers would never get out. She did not like havingtigers running in and out of the house, even if they were no bigger thanyour thimble. She thought it quite likely some of the boys would letthem out some day; but it was no use looking forward. So, day by day, the people came to look at the wonderful village. There was alwayssomething new to see. At last, one of the deacons declared Jedidiahought to charge so much a sight. It was as good a show as the menagerie, any day; and everybody was willing to give ten cents for that, childrenhalf-price. 

This made great talk. Should Jedidiah charge for the show, or not? Mr. Dyer would have nothing to say about it. Mrs. Dyer thought they might aswell; then there would be fewer children in her front yard picking atthe currants. At last it was settled that Spinville should pay two centsa sight, children half-price, and strangers could see the village fornothing; but all those who had contributed anything towards the arkshould have a right to visit it with their families, without paying. There was a great rush after this to see who was going to pay. It turnedout only the schoolmaster's and doctor's families had to buy tickets;and when it came to that, Mr. Dyer said he would not let them payanything. So Jedidiah did not gain much by it; but he and a few of hisfriends made some tickets, all the same, printing on them "Noah's Ark. Admittance, two cents; children, half-price;" and a good many childrenbought tickets for the fun of it. 

At last there came a crash. One afternoon, Tim Stubbs, in setting up anew pump, gave a knock to the ark, and sent the whole thing over. Theroof snapped open, and out came all the wild beasts. The hyenas laughed, the lions roared, the bears growled, and the tigers leaped about to seewhom they could devour; Noah jumped up on top of the pump; the elephantknocked out a side of the barn, to see what was the matter; all thewives ran for the houses, and there was a general confusion. A leopardseized a young chicken. Mrs. Dyer came out with a rolling-pin in herhand. Tim and Tom Stubbs declared they would catch the animals, ifJedidiah would only find something safe to put them in. 

"If we only had a cave!" exclaimed Lucy Miles, who had hidden behind thekitchen door. 

Tim and Tom Stubbs caught one of the tigers, just as Jedidiah appearedwith his mother's bandbox. He had thrown his mother's caps and herSunday bonnet on the spare-room floor. They shut the tiger up in thebandbox, then found one of the bears climbing up the pump after Noah. Jedidiah brought a strong string, and tied him to a post. All the restof the boys ran away at first, but ventured to come back and join in thesearch for the rest of the beasts. 

The hunt grew quite exciting. One of the boys, who had read Africantravels, prepared a leash of twine, and made a lasso, and with this hesucceeded in catching the two hyenas. Then no one knew if all the beastswere caught or no. The boy who had read the travels could tell a longlist of wild animals that ought to be in the ark. There was therhinoceros, the hippopotamus, the jaguar; there was the leopard, thepanther, the ocelot. Mrs. Dyer put her hands up to her ears in dismay. She could not bear to hear any more of their names; and to think shemight meet them any day, coming in at the wood-house door, or runningoff with one of the chickens!

But the Stubbses thought very likely all these animals never were inthis ark at all, though they might have been in the original Noah's Ark. This was only a play ark, after all, and you could not expect to findevery animal in it. The minister's wife said she did not know what youshould expect. The ark was quite a different one from any she had seen. She had bought them for her children, year in and year out, and she hadnever seen anything of the sort. You might expect a hippopotamus, or anykind of beast. Those she had bought were always of wood, and the legsbroke off easily. You could mend them with Spalding's Glue; but evenSpalding was not as good as it used to be, and you could not dependupon it. 

Meanwhile the hunt went on. The Spinville people began to be sorry theyhad ever bought a Noah's Ark. They had expected nothing of the sort. Atlast the two leopards were found, --beautiful creatures, who lashed theirtails wildly; and before long, two hippopotami were discovered in theduck-pond, wallowing in their native element. They were very fierce andwild, and were caught with great difficulty. These were put in thebandbox with the others. It was a strong, old-fashioned box; but it wasfeared it would not last long for the wild beasts. Jedidiah tied it upwith some twine, and it was put for the present in the spare-roomcloset. 

Mrs. Dyer did not sleep well that night, though her doors had been shutall day. She dreamed she heard lions all the night long, and was sure arhinoceros could get in at the window. Why had Mr. Dyer ever been sogenerous with his potatoes? Why had he invited all the people to come?Of what use had the Noah's Ark been? Jedidiah had got along without toysbefore; now his head was turned. Better for him to amuse himself diggingpotatoes, or seeing to the squashes, than meddling with the beasts. 

And there were the Spinville boys round before breakfast. They werethere, indeed, and began again their search for the beasts. The girlssat at the chamber windows, watching the chase. Under a cabbage-leaf, fast asleep, the stray tiger was found. The boy learned in NaturalHistory went over the terrible list of all the fierce animals. "Yes, there were ocelots and cougars and jaguars, peculiarly shy andstealthy in approaching their prey, " so the book said. "There was thechibiguasu----" But Jedidiah said he didn't believe _his_ Noahcared for such out-of-the-way beasts; they must have come in since hisark. They had enough to do to catch the regular wild animals, and theseat last they found in some number. They were all seized, and withdifficulty put into a wooden lozenge-box. There was great delight; theremust be all; the ark surely could have held no more. Lions, tigers, leopards, panthers, lynxes, wildcats, --all the animals necessary fora respectable ark, all in twos. 

But, oh horror! a jaguar was discovered, also, at the last moment justbefore school. One jaguar, and there must be another somewhere. The onefound answered the description completely: "the body yellow, marked withopen black figures, considerable variety in the marking. " A stray jaguarin Spinville! so fierce a beast! No one could be sure of his footsteps. Noah, his sons and their wives, had not been unmoved. Their satisfactionhad been great. They had carried water to the bears, and had looked muchpleased; and now they shook their heads at seeing only one jaguar. 

"I think they must be all caught but that one jaguar, " said Jedidiah. "They look satisfied, and are going about their daily work; and it istime we found some place for the wild beasts. They will come throughmother's bandbox before long. "

The boys went to school. There was great consultation all that day, which ended in Tom Stubbs bringing a squirrel-cage. It was just thething, for the wires were near enough to keep the animals in, andeverybody could have a look at them. But how were they to be got intothe squirrel-cage? There came a new question. Tim Stubbs remembered hehad often caught a butterfly under his hat, and a very handsomebutterfly, too, and he was sure he had him; but just as he lifted thebrim of the hat to show the other fellows that he was really there, thebutterfly would be off. 

Happily there was no afternoon school, and a grand council of theboys was held, assisted by some of the selectmen. The beasts in thelozenge-box were easily disposed of, for it had a sliding cover, whichwas dexterously raised high enough to let the beasts all into thesquirrel-cage. Then handy Tim Stubbs punched a hole in the bandboxopposite to the entrance of the squirrel-cage, and one by one theleopards and the rest were allowed to make their way into the wiryprison. The tiger made a dash, but in vain; he was imprisoned like therest. 

This is our last news from Spinville. 

It is more than a month since the Spinville stage set out on its weeklytrip for that place. It was an old stage; the horses were old, theharness was old, the driver was old. It is not then to be wonderedat that in crossing the bridge on the old road, which is so littletravelled that it is never kept in repair, the old wheel was caught ina chink between the boards, the old coach tumbled over, the driver wasthrown from his seat and broke his leg, the horses fell on their knees, and the whole concern was made a complete wreck. 

Now, the stage-driver was the owner of the old coach and team. He hadalways said the thing did not pay; he would give it all up. Indeed, heonly had driven to Spinville once a week to see the folks himself. Nobody ever went there, and nobody ever came away, except once a yearMr. Jones, and he had a team of his own. So there is no communicationwith Spinville. That a jaguar is loose is the latest news. 

XI. 

CARRIE'S THREE WISHES. 

Carrie Fraser was a great trouble to her mother, because she was alwayswishing for something she had not got. 

"The other girls always have things that I don't, " she complained to hermother. Her mother tried to explain to Carrie that she had a great manythings the other girls didn't have. 

"But they are not always wishing for my things, just as I wish fortheirs. "

"That is because they are not such 'teasers' as you are, " her motherwould reply. "You do not hear them from morning till night teasing forthings they have not got. "

Another thing in Carrie troubled her mother very much. She used agreat many extravagant phrases. She was not satisfied with saying even"perfectly lovely, " "splendid, " "excruciatingly jolly. " Her mother mighthave permitted these terms, and was used to hearing the other girls usethem; but Carrie got hold of the strangest expressions and phrases, I amafraid to put them into this story; for every boy and girl is perhapsalready too familiar with such, and I might only spread the use of them. 

I will mention that "bang-up" and "bumptious, " and that class ofexpressions were her favorites, and the best-educated boy or girl willbe able to imagine the rest. This story will show how a careless use ofwords brought Carrie to grief, and taught her a severe lesson. 

One day, as usual, she had been complaining, and wishing she could haveeverything she wanted. Her mother said: "You remember the old story ofthe old couple who had their three wishes granted, and how they nevergot any good from it. "

"But that was because they acted like such geese, " exclaimed Carrie. "Icould never have been so elephantinely idiotic! First, they wasted onewish, for a black pudding. "

"That is a sausage, " said her mother. 

"Yes, they asked for a common, every-day sausage to come down thechimney; then they got into a fight, and wished it would settle on oneof their noses; and then they had to waste their last wish, by wishingit off again! It is too bad to have such luck come to such out-and-outidiots. "

Mrs. Fraser was just setting out for the village street, to order thedinner. The Governor was expected to pass through the place, and was tobe met at the Town Hall. Jimmy, the only son in the family, had gone offto see the show. 

"Now, if he were a real, genuine governor, " said Carrie, "like a princein a fairytale, you would go and beseech him to grant your wishes. Youwould fall on your knees, or something, and he would beg you to rise, and your lovely daughter should have all that she wished. "

"I am afraid you are very foolish, " sighed Mrs. Fraser; "but I will seethe Governor. Perhaps he can advise what is best. "

It seemed to Carrie as if her mother were gone a great while. "She mighthave got six dinners!" she exclaimed to herself. "How tiresome! I wish Ihad gone down myself, anyway. All the girls and boys have gone, and Imight have seen the Governor. "

But she passed the time in rocking backward and forward in arocking-chair; for to her other faults Carrie added that of laziness, and when the other girls had gone down town, and had urged her to gowith them, she had been quite too lazy to go for her hat or to hunt upher boot button-hook. 

"It seems as if Jimmy might have come back to tell about things, " shewent on. "Oh dear me! if I had only a chariot and four to go down with, and somebody to dress me and find my boots and my hat and my gloves, then it would have been worth while to go. I mean to make out a list ofwishes, in case somebody should grant me the power to have them. "

She took out a little blank-book from her pocket, and began to writedown:--

"1. A chariot and four, man to drive, striped afghan, etc. 

"2. Maid to find and put on hat, boots, etc. 

"3. Plenty of hats, boots, and gloves for the maid to put on, and sothat they could be found when wanted. "

"That would be bully!" said Carrie, interrupting herself. "If I hadgloves in every drawer and on every shelf, I should not have to belooking for them. I might have a hat on every peg in the house exceptwhat Jimmy uses. I might have a sack over the back of every chair, andgloves in the pockets of each. The boots could be in each corner of theroom and on all the top shelves. But boot-hooks! there's the stunner!Where could one find boot-buttoners enough? They do get out of the wayso! I should have six in every drawer, one in each pocket, half a dozenin Mamma's basket, a row on the mantelpiece--on all the mantelpieces. Then perhaps I could do without a maid; at least, save her up till Igrow older. Let's see. That makes three wishes. They generally havethree. If I strike out the maid, I can think of something else. SupposeI say something to eat, then. Chocolate creams! I never had enough yet. "

At this moment Mrs. Fraser returned, looking quite heated andbreathless. She had to fling herself into a chair by the window torecover strength enough to speak, and then her words came out in gasps. 

Carrie did leave her rocking-chair and tried fanning her mother, for shesaw she had something to say. 

"What is it? What have you seen? Have you got something slam-bang forme? Is the Governor coming here? Couldn't you raise any dinner?"

Carrie's questions came out so fast that her mother never could haveanswered them, even with the breath of a Corliss engine; much less, panting as she was now. 

"Yes, I saw him; I managed to see him, " she gasped out. "The guns werefiring, the cannon were booming, the bells were ringing----"

"Oh! I dare say! I dare say!" cried Carrie, eager to hear more. "I couldhear them up here. That was not worth going to town for. What did theGovernor say?"

"My dear! my dear!" panted Mrs. Fraser, "he said you could have yourthree wishes. "

"What! The chariot and four (that means horses), the maid, and theboot-hooks, --no, the maid was scratched out, --not the chocolates?" askedCarrie, in wonder. 

"No, no! I don't know what you mean!" said Mrs. Fraser; "but you canhave three wishes; and I have hurried home, for they are to be told asthe clock strikes twelve, --one to-day, one to-morrow, one the nextday, --the moment the clock strikes, and I am only just in time. You areto wish, and you will have just what you wish. "

Both Carrie and her mother looked at the clock. The hand was justapproaching twelve. Carrie could hear a little "click" that always camefrom inside the clock before it struck. 

"I have written out my wishes, " she hurried to say; "but I don't wantthe chariot yet, because everybody is coming back from town. And I don'twant any more hats and boots just now. But, oh! I do want some chocolatecreams, and I wish this room was 'chock full of them. '"

As she spoke the clock struck; and when it stopped she could speak nomore, for the room was as full of chocolate creams as it could hold. They came rattling down upon her head, filling in all the crannies ofthe room. They crowded into her half-open mouth; they filled herclutching hands. Luckily, Mrs. Fraser was sitting near the open window, and the chocolate creams pushed her forward upon the sill. There weretwo windows looking upon the piazza. One was made of glass doors thatwere shut; the other, fortunately, was quite low; and Mrs. Fraser seatedherself on the edge, and succeeded in passing her feet over to the otherside, a torrent of chocolate creams following her as she came. She thenturned to see if she could help Carrie. Carrie was trying to eat her waytoward the window, and stretched out her arms to her mother, who seizedher, and with all her strength pulled her through the window. 

"They are bully!" exclaimed Carrie, as soon as she was free. "They arethe freshest I ever ate. Golumptious!"

"Oh, Carrie, " said her mother, mournfully, "how can you use suchexpressions now, when you have wasted your opportunity in such anextravagant wish?"

"What! A whole roomful of chocolate creams do you consider a waste?"exclaimed Carrie. "Why, we shall be envied of all our neighbors; and, Mamma, you have been sighing over our expenses, and wishing that Jimmyand I could support you. Do not you see that we can make our fortunewith chocolate creams? First, let us eat all we want before tellinganybody; then let us give some to choice friends, and we will sell therest. "

All the time she was talking Carrie was putting in her hand forchocolate creams and cramming one after another. Mrs. Fraser, too, didnot refuse to taste them. How could they ever get into the parlor again, unless they were eaten up?

"I am sure we can make quite a fortune, " Carrie went on. "As soon asJimmy comes home we can calculate how much it will be. The last time Iwas in Boston I gave fifteen cents for a quarter of a pound, and therewere just thirteen chocolate creams. Now, see. In my two hands I canhold fourteen; now, how many times that do you suppose there are in theroom?"

Mrs. Fraser could not think. Carrie was triumphant. 

"Jimmy will know how to calculate, for he knows how many feet and inchesthere are in the room. If not, he can measure by the piazza; and we canrow the chocolate creams out, and see how many go to a foot, and then wecan easily find out. Of course, we shall sell them cheaper than they doin Boston, and so there will be a rush for them. It will be bully!"

"I am glad we happened to take this rocking-chair out on the piazza thismorning, " said Mrs. Fraser, languidly seating herself. "I don't see howwe shall ever get into the parlor again. "

"Jimmy and I will eat our way in fast enough, " said Carrie, laughing;and Jimmy at that moment appeared with two boy friends, whom he hadbrought home to dinner. 

They were all delighted when they understood the situation, and had sooneaten a little place by the window, inside the room. 

"I quite forgot to buy any dinner, " exclaimed Mrs. Fraser, starting up. "I meant to have ordered a leg of mutton as I went down, and now it istoo late; and eggs for a pudding. Jimmy will have to go down----"

"Oh, the chocolate creams will do!" exclaimed Carrie. "Don't you see, there's our first saving, and my wish does not turn out so extravagant, after all. The boys will be glad to have chocolate creams for dinner, I'm sure. "

The boys all said they would, as far as they could, when their mouthswere so full. 

"We must put out an advertisement, " said Carrie, at last, as soon as shecould stop to speak: "'Chocolate creams sold cheap!' I guess we won'tgive any away. We may as well make all we can. It will be geminy!Suppose we look up some boxes and baskets, Jimmy, to sell them in; andyou boys can go to the gate and tell people there are chocolate creamsfor sale. "

But all the boxes and baskets were soon filled, and only a little spacemade in the room. Jimmy pulled out the other rocking-chair that Carriehad been sitting in, and she rested herself for a while. 

"I declare, I never thought before I could eat enough chocolate creams;but they are a trifle cloying. "

"My dear, " said Mrs. Fraser, "if you had not said 'chock full;' if youhad said 'a great many, ' or 'a trunkful, ' or something of that sort. "

"But I meant 'chock full, '" insisted Carrie. 

"I did not mean quite up to the ceiling. I didn't suppose that was what'chock' meant. Now we know. "

A great shouting was heard. All the boys of the town were gathering, andquite a crowd of people seemed coming near. 

Mrs. Fraser was a widow, and there was no man in the house. Jimmy wasthe nearest approach to a man that she could depend upon; and here hewas, leading a band of boys! She sent one of the boys she knew the bestfor Mr. Stetson, the neighboring policeman, who came quickly, havingalready seen the crowd of boys flocking to the house. 

Carrie was trying to sell off her boxes for fifteen, ten, even fivecents; but the crowd could not be easily appeased, for the boys couldsee across the windows the chocolate creams closely packed. "The room ischock full!" they exclaimed. 

Mr. Stetson examined the premises. "You'll find it hard work to getthem chocolates out in a week, even if you set all the boys on them. I'dadvise letting them in one by one to fill their pockets, each to paya cent. "

Even Carrie assented to this, and a line was formed, and boys let inthrough the window. They ate a way to the door that led into the entry, so that it could be opened and the room could be entered that way. Theboys now went in at the window and came out at the door, eating as theywent and filling their pockets. Carrie could not but sigh at thought ofthe Boston chocolates, more than a cent apiece! But the boys ate, andthen the girls came and ate; but with night all had to leave, at last. It was possible to shut the window and lock it, and shut the door forthe night, after they had gone. 

"I don't see why the chocolates should not stay on there weeks andweeks, " said Carrie to her mother. "Of course, they won't be so fresh, day after day; but they will be fresher than some in the shops. I'mawfully tired of eating them now, and feel as if I never wanted to seea chocolate cream again; but I suppose I shall feel different after anight's sleep, and I think Mr. Stetson is wrong in advising us to sellthem so low. "

Mrs. Fraser suggested she should like to go in the parlor to sit. 

"But to-morrow is the day of the picnic, " said Carrie, "and we shall beout-of-doors anyhow. I will take chocolate creams for my share. But, dear me! my dress is on the sofa, --my best dress. You were putting theruffles in!"

"I told you, my dear, one of the last things, to take it upstairs, " saidMrs. Fraser. 

"And there it is, in the furthest corner of the room, " exclaimed Carrie, "with all those chocolates scrouching on it. I'll tell you. I'll get BenSykes in early. He eats faster than any of the other boys, and he shalleat up toward my dress. He made a great hole in the chocolates thisafternoon. I will have him come in early, and we don't go to the picnictill after twelve o'clock. "

"And at twelve o'clock you have your second wish, " said Mrs. Fraser. 

"Yes, Mamma, " said Carrie; "and I have already decided what it shallbe, --a chariot and four. It will come just in time to take me to thepicnic. "

"Oh, my dear Carrie, " said her mother, "do think what you are planning!Where would you keep your chariot and the four horses?"

"Oh! there will be a man to take care of them, " said Carrie; "but I willthink about it all night carefully----"

At that very moment she went to sleep. 

The next morning early, Carrie was downstairs. She found she could eata few more chocolate creams, and Jimmy was in the same condition. Sheproposed to him her plan of keeping the chocolates still for sale, buteating a way to the sofa in the corner, to her best dress. 

Ben Sykes came early, and a few of the other boys. The rest were kept athome, because it turned out they had eaten too many and their parentswould not let them come. 

A good many of the older people came with baskets and boxes, and boughtsome to carry away, they were so delicious and fresh. 

Meanwhile Ben Sykes was eating his way toward the corner. It was veryhard making any passage, for as fast as he ate out a place others cametumbling in from the top. Carrie and Jimmy invented "a kind of a tunnel"of chairs and ironing-boards, to keep open the passage; and other boyshelped eat, as they were not expected to pay. 

But the morning passed on. Mrs. Fraser tried to persuade Carrie to wearanother dress; but she had set her mind on this. She had a broad bluesash to wear with it, and the sash would not go with any other dress. 

She watched the clock, she watched Ben; she went in under theironing-boards, to help him eat, although she had begun to loathe thetaste of the chocolate creams. 

Ben was splendid. He seemed to enjoy more the more he ate. Carriewatched him, as he licked them and ate with glowing eyes. 

"Oh, Ben, " Carrie suddenly exclaimed, "you can't seem to eat them fastenough. I wish your throat were as long as from one end of this room tothe other. "

At this moment the clock was striking. 

Carrie was ready to scream out her second wish; but she felt herselfpushed in a strange way. Ben was on all fours in front of her, and nowhe pushed her back, back. His neck was so long that while his head wasstill among the chocolates, at the far corner of the room, his feet werenow out of the door. 

Carrie stood speechless. She had lost her wish by her foolishexclamation. The faithful Ben, meanwhile, was flinging something throughthe opening. It was her dress, and she hurried away to put it on. 

When she came down, everybody was looking at Ben. At first he enjoyedhis long neck very much. He could stand on the doorstep and put his headfar out up in the cherry trees and nip off cherries, which pleased boththe boys and himself. 

[Illustration: He enjoyed his long neck very much. ]

Instead of a chariot and four, Carrie went off in an open wagon, withthe rest of the girls. It made her feel so to see Ben, with his longneck, that she got her mother's permission to spend the night with thefriend in whose grounds the picnic was to be held. 

She carried baskets of chocolate creams, and she found numbers of thegirls, who had not eaten any, who were delighted with them, and promisedto come the next day, to buy and carry away any amount of them. Shebegan to grow more cheerful, though she felt no appetite, and insteadof eating everything, as she always did at picnics, she could not eventouch Mattie Somers's cream-pie nor Julia Dale's doughnuts. She stayedas late as she could at her friend Mattie's; but she felt she must gethome in time for her third wish, at twelve o'clock. 

Would it be necessary for her to wish that Ben Sykes's neck should bemade shorter? She hoped she might find that it had grown shorter in thenight; then she could do as she pleased about her third wish. 

She still clung to the desire for the chariot and four. If she had it, she and her mother and Jimmy could get into it and drive far away fromeverybody, --from Ben Sykes and his long neck, if he still had it, --andnever see any of them any more. Still, she would like to show thechariot and four to her friends; and perhaps Ben Sykes would not mindhis long neck, and would be glad to keep it and earn money by showinghimself at a circus. 

So she reached home in the middle of the morning, and found the wholeSykes family there, and Ben, still with his long neck. It seems it hadgiven him great trouble in the night. He had to sleep with his head inthe opposite house, because there was not room enough on one floor athome. Mrs. Sykes had not slept a wink, and her husband had been upwatching, to see that nobody stepped on Ben's neck. Ben himself appearedin good spirits; but was glad to sit in a high room, where he couldsupport his head. 

Carrie suggested her plan that Ben should exhibit himself. He, no doubt, could earn a large sum. But his mother broke out against this. He nevercould earn enough to pay for what he ate, now his throat was so long. Even before this he could swallow more oatmeal than all the rest of thefamily put together, and she was sure that now even Mr. Barnum himselfcould not supply him with food enough. Then she burst into a flood oftears, and said she had always hoped Ben would be her stay and support;and now he could never sleep at home, and everybody looking after himwhen he went out, and the breakfast he had eaten that very morning wasenough for six peoples' dinners. 

They were all in the parlor, where the chocolate creams were partiallycleared away. They were in a serried mass on two sides of the room, meeting near the centre, with the underground passage, through which Benhad worked his way to Carrie's dress. Mrs. Fraser had organized a bandto fill pasteboard boxes, which she had obtained from the village, andshe and her friends were filling them, to send away to be sold, as allthe inhabitants of the town were now glutted with chocolate creams. 

At this moment Carrie heard a click in the clock. She looked at hermother, and as the clock struck she said steadily, "I wish that Ben'sneck was all right again. "

Nobody heard her, for at that moment Ben Sykes started up, saying: "I'mall right, and I have had enough. Come along home!" And he dragged hisfamily away with him. 

Carrie fell into her mother's arms. "I'll never say 'chock full' again!"she cried; "and I'll always be satisfied with what I have got, for I cannever forget what I suffered in seeing Ben's long neck!"

XII. 

"WHERE CAN THOSE BOYS BE?"

This was the cry in the Wilson family as they sat down to dinner. 

"It is odd, " said Aunt Harriet. "I have noticed they are usually readyfor their dinner. They may be out of the way at other times, but theyalways turn up at their meals. "

"They were here at breakfast, " said Jane, the eldest daughter. 

"I helped Jack about his Latin before he went to school, " said themother of the family. 

"They are probably at the Pentzes', " said Gertrude. "If our boys are notthere, the Pentzes are here; and as long as the Pentzes are not here, Isuppose our boys are there. "

"I should say they were not likely to get so good a dinner at thePentzes' as we have here, " said Aunt Harriet, as a plate was set beforeher containing her special choice of rare-done beef, mashed potato, stewed celery, and apple-sauce. 

"Who are the Pentzes?" said Mr. Wilson, looking round the table to seeif everybody was helped. 

"He is a painter and glazier, " said Aunt Harriet, "and the mother takesin washing. "

"They are good boys, " said Mrs. Wilson. "Jonas Pentz stands high in hisclass, and is a great help to our Sam. Don't you remember him? He is theboy that came and spent a night with Sam a week ago. They have theirfirst lesson in 'Cæsar' this afternoon; perhaps they are studying up. "

"Jack always has to go where Sam does, " said Gertrude. 

This was the talk at the Wilsons' table. The subject was much the sameat the Pentzes'. There was a large family at the Wilsons'; so there wasat the Pentzes'. Mrs. Pentz was ladling out some boiled apple-pudding toa hungry circle round her. But she missed two. 

"Where are Jonas and Dick?" she asked. 

A clamor of answers came up. 

"I saw Jonas and Dick go off with Sam Wilson after school, and JackWilson, and John Stebbins, " said Will, one of the small boys. 

"You don't think Jonas and Dick both went to dine at the Wilsons'?" saidMrs. Pentz. "I should not like that. "

"I dare say they did, " said Mary Pentz. "You know the Wilson boys arehere half the time, and the other half our boys are at the Wilsons'. "

"Still, I don't like their going there for meal-times, " said Mrs. Pentz, anxiously. 

"Jonas had a new lesson in 'Cæsar, '" said Mary Pentz. "I don't believethey planned to spend much time at dinner. "

But at supper-time no boys appeared at the Wilsons'. Mrs. Wilson wasanxious. George, the youngest boy of all, said the boys had been homesince afternoon school; he had seen Jack in the kitchen with JohnStebbins. 

"Jack came to me for gingerbread, " said Jane, "and I asked him wherethey had been, and John Stebbins said, with the Pentz boys. He saidsomething about to-morrow being a holiday, and preparing for a lark. "

"I don't like their getting all their meals at the Pentzes', " said Mrs. Wilson, "and I don't much like John Stebbins. "

Again at the Pentzes' the talk was much the same. 

Mary Pentz reported the boys went through their 'Cæsar' recitationwell; she had a nod of triumph from Jonas as he walked off with SamWilson. "They had their books, so I suppose they are off for studyagain. "

"I don't like their taking two meals a day at the Wilsons', " said Mrs. Pentz. 

"There's no school to-morrow, " said Mary, "because the new furnace is tobe put in. But I dare say the boys, Sam and Jonas, will be studying allthe same. "

"I hope he won't be out late, " said Mrs. Pentz. 

"He's more likely to spend the night at the Wilsons', " said Mary. "Youknow he did a week ago. "

"The boys were round here for a candle, " said Will. 

"Then they do mean to study late, " said Mrs. Pentz. "I shall tell himnever to do it again; and with Dick, too!"

Mr. Wilson came hurrying home for a late supper, and announced he mustgo to New York by a late train. 

"A good chance for you, " he said to his wife, "to go and see yoursister. You won't have more than a day with her, for I shall have totake the night train back, but it will give you a day's talk. "

Mrs. Wilson would like to go, but she felt anxious about the boys. "Theyhave not been home for dinner or supper. "

"But they came home for gingerbread, " said Aunt Harriet. "I suppose theydidn't have too hearty a dinner at the Pentzes'. "

"Joanna says they went off with a basket packed up for to-morrow, " saidGertrude. 

"If the Pentzes did not live so far off, I would send up, " said Mrs. Wilson. 

"They will be in by the time we are off, or soon after, " said Mr. Wilson. "It looks like rain, but it won't hurt us. "

Mrs. Wilson and he went, but no boys appeared all the evening. 

Aunt Harriet, who had not been long in the family, concluded this wasthe way boys acted. 

Jane sat up some time finishing a novel, and hurried off to bed, startled to find it so late, and waking up Gertrude to say, "It is oddthose boys have not come home!"

Why hadn't they?

They couldn't. 

This is what happened. 

Wednesday afternoon, after school, the younger boys had gone to playat the old Wilson house, far away at the other end of the Main Street, beyond the Pentzes'. This was an old deserted mansion, where the Wilsonsthemselves had lived once upon a time. But it had taken a fortune andtwo furnaces to warm it in winter, and half a dozen men to keep thegarden in order in summer, and it had grown now more fashionable to liveat the other end of the town; so the Wilson family had moved down yearsago, where the girls could see "the passing" and Mr. Wilson would benear his business. Of late years he had not been able to let the house, and it had been closely shut to keep it from the tramps. The boys hadoften begged the keys of their father, for they thought it would be suchfun to take possession of the old house. But Mr. Wilson said, "No; if aparcel of boys found their way in, all the tramps in the neighborhoodwould learn how to get in too. " Still, it continued the object of theboys' ambition to get into the house, and they were fond of going up toplay in the broad grassy space by the side of the house; and they keptgood oversight of the apple crop there. 

On this Wednesday afternoon they were playing ball there, and lost theball. It had gone through a ventilation hole into the cellar part of thehouse. 

Now, everybody knows that if a boy loses a ball it must be recovered, especially if he knows where it is. There is not even a woman sostony-hearted but she will let in a troop of muddy-shoed boys throughher entry (just washed) if they come to look for a ball, even if ithas broken a pane of glass on its way. So the boys got a ladder fromthe Pentzes', and put it up at one of the windows where the blind wasbroken. Jack went up the ladder. The slat was off, but not in the rightplace to open the window. There could not be any harm in breaking offanother; then he could reach the middle of the sash and pull up thewindow. No; it was fastened inside. John Stebbins tried, but it was ofno use. 

"It would not help if we broke the window by the fastening, " said John;"for the shutters are closed inside with old-fashioned inside shutters. "

Here was the time to ask for the key. They must have the key to findthat ball, and the boys trudged back to meet Sam just going home fromthe Pentzes'. 

But Sam refused to ask for the key again, He didn't want to bother hisfather so soon, and he didn't want the bother himself. He had his new"Cæsar" lesson to study; to-morrow, after school, he and Jonas wouldlook round at the house, and find some way to recover the ball, for eventhe stern and studious Sam knew the value of a ball. 

So Thursday noon the boys all hurried up to the Wilson house, --Sam, Jonas, and all. They examined it on every side. They came back to thehole where the ball was lost. 

"There's the cold-air box, " said Jonas. "Could not Dick crawl in?"

Now, Dick was a very small pattern of a boy, indeed, to be still a boy. Really he might crawl into the cold-air box. He tried it! He did get in!He had to squeeze through one part, but worked his way down fairly intothe cellar, and screamed out with triumph that he had found the ballclose by the hole! But how was Dick to get out again? He declared hecould never scramble up. He slipped back as fast as he tried. He wouldlook for the cellar stairs, only it was awful dark except just by thehole. He had a match in his pocket. Jack ran to the Pentzes' and got acandle, and they rolled it in to Dick, and waited anxiously to see wherehe would turn up next. They heard him, before long, pounding at a doorround the corner of the house. He had found the cellar stairs, and adoor with bolts and a great rusty key, which he succeeded in turning. The boys pulled at the door and it opened; and there stood Dick with theball in one hand, picking up the candle with the other!

What a chance to enter the house! Down the cellar stairs, up into theattics! Strange echoes in the great halls, and dark inside; for all thewindows were closed and barred, --all but in one room upstairs thatopened on a back veranda. It was a warm late-autumn day, and the sunpoured down pleasantly upon a seat in the corner of the veranda, wherea creeper was shedding its last gay leaves. 

"What a place to study!" exclaimed Sam. 

"Let's come and spend to-morrow, " said John Stebbins; "there's noschool. "

"No school Friday, on account of the furnace!" exclaimed Jack. "Let'sbring a lot of provisions and stay the whole day here. "

"We might lay it in to-night, " said John Stebbins; "we'll come up afterschool this afternoon!"

"And I'll tell father about the key this evening, " said Sam; "he won'tmind, if he finds we have got one. "

"Jack and I will see to the provisions, " said John Stebbins, "if therest of you boys will come here as soon as school is over. "

It was all so interesting that they were too late for dinners, and hadto content themselves with gingerbread as they hurried to school. 

"Be sure you tell mother, " was Sam's last warning to Jack and JohnStebbins, as they parted for their separate schoolrooms. 

After school the party hastened to the old house. Sam took the entry keyfrom his pocket and opened the door, leaving Dick to wait for Jack andJohn Stebbins. They appeared before long with a basket of provisions, and were ready for a feast directly, but delayed for a furtherexamination of the house. It was dark soon, and Sam would not let themstay long in any one room. They must just take a look, and then gohome, --no waiting for a feast. 

"I'll talk to father this evening, and ask him if we may have it if wekeep the whole thing secret. "

They fumbled their way down to the lower back door, but could not get itopen. It was locked!

"We left the key in the door outside, " said Dick, in a low whisper. 

"You ninnies!" exclaimed Sam, "somebody saw you and has locked us in. "

"Some of the boys, to plague us, " said John Stebbins. 

"Mighty great secrecy, now, " said Sam, "if half the boys in town know weare here. It all comes of that great basket of provisions you saw fit tobring round. "

"You'll be glad enough of it, " said John Stebbins, "if we have to spendthe night here. "

"Let's have it now, " said Jack. 

"We may as well occupy ourselves that way, " said Sam, in a resignedtone, "till they choose to let us out. "

"Suppose we go up to the room with the bed and the sofa, " said JohnStebbins; "and we've got a surprise for you. There's a pie, --let's eatthat. "

They stumbled their way back. The provident John Stebbins had laid inmore candles, and they found an old table and had a merry feast. 

Sam and Jonas had their books. When Sam had hold of a fresh Latin bookhe could not keep away from it. Jonas's mind was busy with a newinvention. The boys thought he would make his fortune by it. He wasdetermined to invent some use for coal ashes. They were the only thingsthat were not put to some use by his mother in their establishment. Hethought he should render a service to mankind if he could do somethinguseful with coal ashes. So he had studied all the chemistry books, andhad one or two in his pockets now, and drew out a paper with H O, andother strange letters and figures on it. The other boys after supperbusied themselves with arranging the room for a night's sleep. 

"It's awful jolly, " said Dick. "This bed will hold four of us. I'llsleep across the foot, and Sam shall have the sofa. "

But Sam rose up from his study. "I've no notion of spending the nighthere. The door must be open by this time. "

He went to the window that looked out on the veranda. There was a heavyrain-storm; it was pouring hard. It was hard work getting down to thedoor in the dark. The candle kept going out; and they found the doorstill locked when they reached it. 

"Why not spend the night?" said Jonas. "They'll have got over theirworries at home by this time. "

"Nobody could come up here to see after us in this rain, " said Sam. "I suppose they think that as we have made our bed we may as well sleepin it. "

Sleep they did until a late hour in the morning. All the windows but theone upon the veranda closed with shutters. They woke up to find snow andrain together. They went all over the house to find some way of gettingout, but doors and windows were well closed. 

"It's no use, boys, " said Sam. "We've tried it often enough from outsideto get in, and now it is as hard to get out. I was always disgusted thatthe windows were so high from the ground. Anyhow, father or some of thefolks will be after us sometime. What was it you told mother?" Samasked. 

John Stebbins had to confess that he had not seen Mrs. Wilson, andindeed had been vague with the information he had left with Jane. "Itold them we were with the Pentz boys, " he said; "I thought it just aswell to keep dark. "

"Mighty dark we all of us are!" said Sam, in a rage. He was so angrythat John Stebbins began to think he had made Jane understand where theywere, and he tried to calm Sam down. Jonas proposed that Dick should beput through the cold-air box again. With a little squeezing from behindhe must be able to get through. Everybody but Dick thought it such anice plan that he was obliged to agree. But what was their horror whenthey reached the place to find some boards nailed across the outside!

"A regular siege!" said Sam. "Well, if they can stand it I guess wecan. " His mettle was up. "We'll stay till relief forces come. It is sometrick of the boys. Lucky there's no school. They can't hold out long. "

"A state of siege! What fun!" cried the boys. 

"I only wish we had brought two pies, " said John Stebbins. "But there'splenty of gingerbread. "

Now they would ransack the house at their leisure. There was lightenough in the attics to explore the treasures hidden there. They foundold coal-hods for helmets, and warming-pans for fiery steeds, and theyhad tournaments in the huge halls. They piled up carpets for theircomfort in their bedroom, --bits of old carpet, --and Jonas and Samdiscovered a pile of old worm-eaten books. The day seemed too short, and the provender lasted well. 

The night, however, was not so happy. The candles were growing shortand matches fewer. Sam and Jonas had to economize in reading, and toldstories instead, and the stories had a tendency to ghosts. Dick and Jackmurmured to John Stebbins it was not such fun after all; when, lo! theirown talk was interrupted by noises below! A sound of quarrelling voicescame from the rooms beneath. Voices of men! They went on tiptoe to thehead of the stairs to listen. 

Tramps, indeed!

How had they got in? Was it they who had locked the door? Did they comein that way?

"Suppose we go down, " said Sam, in a whisper. But John Stebbins and thelittle boys would not think of it. The men were swearing at each other;there was a jingle of bottles and sound of drinking. 

"It's my opinion we had better keep quiet, " said Jonas. "It is a poorset, and I don't know what they would do to us if they saw we had foundthem out and would be likely to tell of them. "

So they crept back noiselessly. In a state of siege, indeed! JohnStebbins, with help of the others, lifted the sofa across the door andbegged Sam to sleep on it. But that night there was not much sleep! Thestorm continued, snow, hail, and rain, and wind howling against thewindows. Toward morning they did fall asleep. It was at a late hour theywaked up and went to peer out from the veranda window. There was apoliceman passing round the house!

 * * * * *

Meanwhile there had been great anxiety at the Wilsons'. 

"If it were not for the storm, " said Aunt Harriet, "I should send up tothe Pentzes' to inquire about those boys. "

"I suppose it's the storm that keeps them, " said Jane. 

"If it were not for the storm, " Mrs. Pentz was saying to Mary, "I shouldlike you to go down to the Wilsons' and see what those boys are about. "

As to Mrs. Stebbins, John was so seldom at home it did not occur to herto wonder where he was. 

But when Saturday morning came, and no boys, Aunt Harriet said, "There'sa little lull in the storm. I can't stand it any longer, Jane. I amgoing to put on my waterproof and go up to the Pentzes'. "

"I will go too, " said Jane; and Gertrude and George joined the party. 

Half-way up the long street they met the Pentz family coming down tomake the same inquiries, --Mr. And Mrs. Pentz, Mary, Sophy, Will, and therest. 

"Where are the boys?" was the exclamation as they met half-way betweenthe two houses. 

Mr. Johnson, one of the leading men of the town, crossed the street toask what was the commotion in the two families. "Our boys are missing, "said Mr. Pentz. "Five boys!"

"We haven't seen them since Thursday morning, " said Aunt Harriet. 

"They were at home Thursday afternoon, " said Mary Pentz. 

"I must speak to the police, " said Mr. Pentz. 

"He is up at the Wilson House, " said Mr. Johnson. "There were tramps inthe house there last night, and the police came very near catching them. He found the door unlocked night before last. The tramps kept off thatnight, but turned up last night in the storm. They have got off, however. There is only one policeman, but we've sworn in a special tokeep guard on the house. "

"I'll go up and see him, " said Mr. Pentz. 

"We'll all go up, " said Harriet. 

"Perhaps the tramps have gone off with the boys, " said Gertrude. 

Quite a crowd had collected with the party as they moved up the street, and all together came to the front of the house. The policeman was justdisappearing round the other side. They turned to the back to meet him, and reached the corner where the veranda looked down upon the yard. 

At this moment Mr. And Mrs. Wilson appeared. They had arrived at thestation from New York, and heard there the story of the disappearance ofthe boys, and of tramps in the house. They hastened to the scene, Mrs. Wilson almost distracted, and now stood with the rest of the Wilsons andthe Pentzes awaiting the policeman. They heard a cry from above, andlooked up to the veranda. 

There were all the boys in a row. 

XIII. 

A PLACE FOR OSCAR. 

"I don't like tiresome fables, " said Jack, throwing down an old book inwhich he had been trying to read; "it is so ridiculous making the beaststalk. Of course they never do talk that way, and if they did talk, theywould not be giving that kind of advice But then they never did talk. Did you ever hear of a beast talking, Ernest, except in a fable?"

Ernest looked up from his book. 

"Why, yes, " he said decidedly; "the horses of Achilles talked, don't youremember?"

"Well, that was a kind of fable, " said Jack. "Our horses never talked. Bruno comes near it sometimes. But, Hester, don't you think fables aretiresome? They always have a moral tagged on!" he continued, appealingto his older sister; for Ernest proved a poor listener, and was deep inhis book again. 

"I will tell you a fable about a boy, " said Hester, sitting down withher work, "and you shall see. "

"But don't let the beasts speak, " said Jack, "and don't let the boy giveadvice!"

"He won't even think of it, " said Hester; and she went on. 

"Once there was a boy, and his name was Oscar, and he went to a verygood school, where he learned to spell and read very well, and do a fewsums. But when he had learned about as much as that, he took up a newaccomplishment. This was to fling up balls, two at a time, and catchthem in his hands. This he could do wonderfully well; but then a greatmany other boys could. He, however, did it at home; he did it on thesidewalk; he could do it sitting on the very top of a board fence; buthe was most proud of doing it in school hours while the teacher was notlooking. This grew to be his great ambition. He succeeded once or twice, when she was very busy with a younger class, and once while her back wasturned, and she was at the door receiving a visitor. 

"But that did not satisfy him: he wanted to be able to do it when shewas sitting on her regular seat in front of the platform; and every dayhe practised, sometimes with one ball and sometimes with another. Ittook a great deal of his time and all of his attention; and often someof the other boys were marked for laughing when he succeeded. And he hadsucceeded so well that the teacher had not the slightest idea what theywere laughing at. 

"All this was very satisfactory to him; but it was not so well for himat the end of the year, because it turned out he was behind-hand in allhis studies, and he had to be put down into a lower room. But cominginto another room with a fresh teacher, he had to learn his favoriteaccomplishment all over again. It was difficult, for she was a veryrigid teacher, and seemed to have eyes in every hair of her head; andhe sat at the other side of the room, so that he had to change handssomehow in throwing the balls and getting them into his desk quickwithout being seen. But there were a number of younger boys in theroom who enjoyed it all very much, so that he was a real hero, andfelt himself quite a favorite. He did manage to keep up better in hisarithmetic, too, in spite of his having so little time for his books. Perhaps from having to watch the teacher so much, he did learn thethings that he heard her repeat over and over again; and then he pickedup some knowledge from the other boys. Still, all through his schoolterm, he was sent about more or less from one room to another. Theteachers could not quite understand why such a bright-looking boy, whoseemed to be always busy with his lessons, was not farther on in hisstudies. 

"So it happened, when they all left school, Oscar was himself surprisedto find that the boys of his age were ahead of him in various ways. Alarge class went on to the high school; but Oscar, as it proved, was notat all fitted. 

"And his father took him round from one place to another to try to getsome occupation for him. He looked so bright that he was taken for anoffice-boy here and there; but he never stayed. The fact was, the onlything he could do well was to fling balls up in the air and catch themin turn, without letting them drop to the ground; and this he couldonly do best on the sly, behind somebody's back. Now this, thoughentertaining to those who saw it for a little while, did not help on hisemployers, who wondered why they did not get more work out of Oscar. 

"A certain Mr. Spenser, a friend of Oscar's father, asked him to bringhis boy round to his office, and he would employ him. 'He will have todo a little drudgery at first, but I think we can promote him soon, ifhe is faithful. '

"So Oscar went with his father to Mr. Spenser's office. Mr. Spenserstarted a little when he saw Oscar; but after talking awhile, he went tohis table, and took from a drawer two balls. 'My little boy left thesehere this morning, ' he said. 'How long do you think, ' turning to Oscar, 'you could keep them up in the air without letting them drop?'

"Oscar was much pleased. Here was his chance; at this office the kind ofthing he could do was wanted. So he dexterously took the balls, andflung them up and down, and might have kept at it all the morning butthat Mr. Spenser said at last, 'That will do, and it is more thanenough. ' He said, turning to Oscar's father: 'As soon as I saw your boyI thought I recognized him as a boy I saw one day in the school flingingballs up in the air on the sly behind his teacher's back. I'm sorry tosee that he keeps up the art still. But I felt pretty sure that day thathe couldn't have learned much else. I should be afraid to take him intomy office with a propensity to do things on the sly, for I have otherboys that must learn to be busy. Perhaps you can find some other placefor Oscar. '

"But Oscar could not find the kind of place. 

"His friend, Seth Clayton, had been fond of collecting insects allthrough his school years. Oscar used to laugh at his boxes full of bugs. But Seth used to study them over, and talk about them with his teacher, who told him all she knew, and helped him to find books about them. Andit was when she was leaning over a beautiful specimen of a night-moththat Oscar had performed his most remarkable feat of keeping three ballsin the air for a second and a half. This was in their last school year. 

"And now, after some years more of study, Seth was appointed to join anexpedition to go to South America and look up insects along the Amazonand in Brazil. 

"'Just what I should like to do, ' said Oscar; for he had studied alittle about the geography of South America, and thought it would be funcatching cocoanuts with the help of the monkeys, and have a salary too. 'That is something I really could do, ' said Oscar to Seth. But Sethwent, and Oscar was left behind. 

"Will Leigh had the best chance, perhaps. He used to be a great crony ofOscar. He went through the Latin School, and then to Harvard College. 'He was always burrowing into Latin and Greek, ' said Oscar; 'much asever you could do to get an English word out of him. '

"Well, he was wanted as professor in a Western college; so they sent himfor three years to a German university to study up his Hebrew. But hewas to travel about Europe first. 

"'I wish they would send me, ' said Oscar. 'Travelling about Europe isjust what I should like, and just what I could do. It is a queer thingthat just these fellows that can work hard, and like to work too, getthe easiest places, where they have only to lie back and do nothing!'

"Even some of the boys who were behind him in school and below him inlower classes came out ahead. Sol Smith, whom Oscar always thought astupid dunce, had the place in Mr. Spenser's office that he would haveliked. 

"'Mr. Spenser took Sol out to his country place in the mountains, ' Oscarcomplained, 'where he has boats and plenty of fishing. I know I couldhave caught a lot of trout. It is just what I can do. But that stupidSol, if he looked at a trout, he probably frightened it away. '

"It was just so all along through life. Oscar could not find exactly theplace he was fitted for. One of his friends, Tracy, went out West asengineer. 'I could have done that, ' said Oscar; 'I could have carriedthe chain as easy as not. It is a little hard that all the rest of thefellows tumble into these easy places. There's Tracy making money handover hand. '

"The next he heard of him Tracy was in the legislature. 'That I coulddo, ' said Oscar. 'It is easy enough to go and sit in the legislature, with your hands in your pockets, and vote when your turn comes; or youneedn't be there all the time if you don't choose. '

"So they put Oscar up for the legislature; but he lost the vote, becausehe forgot to sign his name to an important note, in answer to one of his'constituents. ' He tried for Congress, too, but without success. Hetalked round among his friends about running for President. There wasthe great White House to live in. He would be willing to stay allsummer. He felt he should be the right person, as he had never doneanything, and would offend no party. 

"But even for President something more is needed than catchinghalf-a-dozen balls without letting them fall to the ground. 

"Once, indeed, he had thought of joining a circus; but he could notequal the Chinese juggler with the balls, and it tired him to jump upand down. His father got him the place of janitor at an art building;but he made mistakes in making change for tickets, and put wrong checkson the umbrellas and parasols, so that nobody got the right umbrella. Hewas really glad when they dismissed him, it tired him so. It was harderwork than flinging balls----"

"Look at here, you need not go on, " said Jack, interrupting his sister. "I never did it but just once in school, and that was when you happenedto come in and speak to Miss Eaton. I was real ashamed that you caughtme at it then, and I have never had the balls at school since, orthought of them. "

"The beast has spoken, " said Ernest, looking up from his book. 

Jack made a rush at his brother. "Oh! stop, " said Ernest; "let us findout what became of Oscar. "

"He has married, " said Hester, "and his wife supports him. "

XIV. 

THE FIRST NEEDLE. 

 "Have you heard the new invention, my dears, That a man has invented?" said she. "It's a stick with an eye, Through which you can tie A thread so long, it acts like a thong; And the men have such fun To see the thing run! A firm, strong thread, through that eye at the head, Is pulled over the edges most craftily, And makes a beautiful seam to see!"

 "What! instead of those wearisome thorns, my dear, Those wearisome thorns?" cried they. "The seam we pin, Driving them in; But where are they, by the end of the day, With dancing and jumping and leaps by the sea? For wintry weather They won't hold together, Seal-skins and bear-skins all dropping round, Off from our shoulders down to the ground. The thorns, the tiresome thorns, will prick, But none of them ever consented to stick! Oh, won't the men let us this new thing use? If we mend their clothes, they can't refuse. Ah, to sew up a seam for them to see, -- What a treat, a delightful treat, 't will be!"

 "Yes, a nice thing, too, for the babies, my dears, -- But, alas, there is but one!" cried she. "I saw them passing it round, and then They said it was only fit for men! What woman would know How to make the thing go? There was not a man so foolish to dream That any woman could sew up a seam!"

 Oh, then there was babbling and screaming, my dears! "At least they might let us do that!" cried they. "Let them shout and fight And kill bears day and night; We'll leave them their spears and hatchets of stone If they'll give us this thing for our very own. It will be like a joy above all we could scheme, To sit up all night and sew such a seam!"

 "Beware! take care!" cried an aged old crone, "Take care what you promise!" said she. "At first 't will be fun, But, in the long run, You'll wish that the men had let the thing be. Through this stick with an eye I look and espy That for ages and ages you'll sit and you'll sew, And longer and longer the seams will grow, And you'll wish you never had asked to sew. But nought that I say. Can keep back the day; For the men will return to their hunting and rowing. And leave to the women forever the sewing. "

 Ah! what are the words of an aged crone, For all have left her muttering alone; And the needle and thread they got with such pains. They forever must keep as dagger and chains.