Eliza had bought, early in the morning, to go and return; they were
needed now for return. She was sure she had given them to her father.
Mrs. Peterkin supposed that Mr. Peterkin must have changed them for the
Kingston tickets. The little boys felt in their pockets, Agamemnon and
Solomon John in theirs. In the excitement, Mrs. Peterkin insisted upon
giving up her copy of their new photograph, and could not be satisfied
till the conductor had punched it. At last the tickets were found in the
outer lappet of Elizabeth Eliza's hand-bag. She had looked for them in
the inner part.
It was after this that Mr. Peterkin ventured to pronounce the whole
expedition a success. To be sure, they had not passed the day at the
beach, and had scarcely seen their cousins; but their object had been
to practise travelling, and surely they had been travelling all day.
Elizabeth Eliza had seen the sea, or thought she had. She was not
sure--she had been so busy explaining to the cousins and showing the
photographs. Agamemnon was sorry she had not walked with them to the
beach, and tried getting in and out of the boat. Elizabeth Eliza
regretted this. Of course it was not the same as getting into a boat on
the sea, where it would be wobbling more, but the step must have been
higher from the sand. Solomon John said there was some difficulty. He
had 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. They
had been a little frightened at first when the splash came, but the
tide had been low. On the whole, Mr. Peterkin continued, things had gone
well. Even the bringing back of the cats might be considered a good
omen. Cats were worshipped in Egypt, and they ought not to have tried
to part with them. He was glad they had brought the cats. They gave the
little boys an interest in feeding them while they were waiting at the
Kingston station.
Their adventures were not quite over, as the station was crowded when
they reached Boston. A military company had arrived from the South and
was received by a procession. A number of distinguished guests also were
expected, and the Peterkins found it difficult to procure a carriage.
They had determined to take a carriage, so that they might be sure to
reach their own evening train in season.
At last Mr. Peterkin discovered one that was empty, standing at the end
of a long line. There would be room for Mrs. Peterkin, Elizabeth Eliza,
himself, and the little boys, and Agamemnon and Solomon John agreed to
walk behind in order to keep the carriage in sight. But they were much
disturbed when they found they were going at so slow a pace. Mr. Peterkin
called to the coachman in vain. He soon found that they had fallen into
the line of the procession, and the coachman was driving slowly on
behind the other carriages. In vain Mr. Peterkin tried to attract the
driver's attention. He put his head out of one window after another, but
only to receive the cheers of the populace ranged along the sidewalk.
He opened the window behind the coachman and pulled his coat. But the
cheering was so loud that he could not make himself heard. He tried to
motion to the coachman to turn down one of the side streets, but in
answer the driver pointed out with his whip the crowds of people. Mr.
Peterkin, indeed, saw it would be impossible to make their way through
the 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 their
hats, and bowing to the people cheering on either side.
"They are at the head of a long row of men, walking two by two," said
Mrs. 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 looked
out 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 went
to."
"We shall find out!" exclaimed the little boys, who were filled with
delight, 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, and
the noise of the crowd grew louder. "I think you ought to ask where we
are going," she said to Mr. Peterkin.
"It is not for us to decide," he answered calmly. "They have taken us
into 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. The
little 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 to
the station, and he was able to turn his horses in that direction. As
they left the crowd, they received a parting cheer. It was with
difficulty that Agamemnon and Solomon John broke from the ranks.
"That was a magnificent reception!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin, wiping his
brow, 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. But
Mrs. 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's
for a maple-sugaring instead of going to Egypt! But it seemed best.
Egypt was not given up,--only postponed. "It has lasted so many
centuries," sighed Mr. Peterkin, "that I suppose it will not crumble
much in one summer more."
The Peterkins had determined to start for Egypt in June, and Elizabeth
Eliza had engaged her dressmaker for January; but after all their plans
were made, they were told that June was the worst month of all to go to
Egypt in,--that they would arrive in midsummer, and find the climate
altogether too hot,--that people who were not used to it died of it.
Nobody thought of going to Egypt in summer; on the contrary, everybody
came away. And what was worse, Agamemnon learned that not only the
summers were unbearably hot, but there really was no Egypt in
summer,--nothing to speak of,--nothing but water; for there was a great
inundation of the river Nile every summer, which completely covered the
country, and it would be difficult to get about except in boats.
Mr. Peterkin remembered he had heard something of the sort, but he did
not suppose it had been kept up with the modern improvements.
Mrs. Peterkin felt that the thing must be very much exaggerated. She
could not believe the whole country would be covered, or that everybody
would leave; as summer was surely the usual time for travel, there must
be strangers there, even if the natives left. She would not be sorry if
there were fewer of the savages. As for the boats, she supposed after
their long voyage they would all be used to going about in boats; and
she had thought seriously of practising, by getting in and out of the
rocking-chair from the sofa.
The family, however, wrote to the lady from Philadelphia, who had
travelled in Egypt, and whose husband knew everything about Egypt that
could 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 till
the 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 the
disappointment to the little boys, an excursion for maple syrup was
proposed instead.
Mr. Peterkin considered it almost a necessity. They ought to acquaint
themselves with the manufactures of their own new country before
studying those of the oldest in the world. He had been inquiring into
the products of Egypt at the present time, and had found sugar to be one
of their staples. They ought, then, to understand the American methods
and compare them with those of Egypt. It would be a pretty attention,
indeed, to carry some of the maple sugar to the principal dignitaries
of Egypt.
But the difficulties in arranging an excursion proved almost as great
as for going to Egypt. Sugar-making could not come off until it was
warm 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 on
snow-sleds. Now, if there were sun enough for the sap to rise, it would
melt the snow; and if it were cold enough for sledding, it must be too
cold for the syrup. There seemed an impossibility about the whole thing.
The little boys, however, said there always had been maple sugar every
spring,--they had eaten it; why shouldn't there be this spring?
Elizabeth Eliza insisted gloomily that this was probably old sugar they
had eaten,--you never could tell in the shops.
Mrs. Peterkin thought there must be fresh sugar occasionally, as the old
would have been eaten up. She felt the same about chickens. She never
could understand why there were only the old, tough ones in the market,
when there were certainly fresh young broods to be seen around the
farm-houses every year. She supposed the market-men had begun with the
old, tough fowls, and so they had to go on so. She wished they had begun
the other way; and she had done her best to have the family eat up the
old fowls, hoping they might, some day, get down to the young ones.
As to the uncertainty about the weather, she suggested they should go to
Grandfather's the day before. But how can you go the day before, when
you don't yet know the day?
All were much delighted, therefore, when Hiram appeared with the
wood-sled, one evening, to take them, as early as possible the next
day, to their grandfather's. He reported that the sap had started,
the kettles had been on some time, there had been a light snow for
sleighing, and to-morrow promised to be a fine day. It was decided
that he should take the little boys and Elizabeth Eliza early, in the
wood-sled; the others would follow later, in the carry-all.
Mrs. Peterkin thought it would be safer to have some of the party go on
wheels, in case of a general thaw the next day.
A brilliant sun awoke them in the morning. The wood-sled was filled with
hay, to make it warm and comfortable, and an arm-chair was tied in for
Elizabeth Eliza. But she was obliged to go first to visit the secretary
of the Circumambient Society, to explain that she should not be present
at their evening meeting. One of the rules of this society was to take
always a winding road when going upon society business, as the word
"circumambient" means "compassing about." It was one of its laws to copy
Nature 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 be
present; she could only hint it in general conversation with the
secretary; and she was obliged to take a roundabout way to reach the
secretary's house, where the little boys called for her in her
wood-sled.
What was her surprise to find eight little boys instead of three! In
passing the school-house they had picked up five of their friends, who
had reached the school door a full hour before the time. Elizabeth Eliza
thought they ought to inquire if their parents would be willing they
should 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 of
ten parents; if the sun kept on at this rate, the snow would be gone
before they should reach the woods. But the little boys said most of the
little boys lived in a row, and Elizabeth Eliza felt she ought not to
take the boys away for all night without their parents' knowledge. The
consent of two mothers and two fathers was gained, and Mr. Dobson was
met in the street, who said he would tell the other mother. But at each
place they were obliged to stop for additional tippets and great-coats
and India-rubber boots for the little boys. At the Harrimans', too, the
Harriman girls insisted on dressing up the wood-sled with evergreens,
and made one of the boys bring their last Christmas-tree, that was
leaning up against the barn, to set it up in the back of the sled, over
Elizabeth Eliza. All this made considerable delay; and when they reached
the high-road again, the snow was indeed fast melting. Elizabeth Eliza
was inclined to turn back, but Hiram said they would find the sleighing
better farther up among the hills. The armchair joggled about a good
deal, and the Christmas-tree creaked behind her; and Hiram was obliged
to stop occasionally and tie in the chair and the tree more firmly.
But the warm sun was very pleasant, the eight little boys were very
lively, and the sleigh-bells jingled gayly as they went on.
It was so late when they reached the wood-road that Hiram decided they
had better not go up the hill to their grandfather's, but turn off into
the woods.
"Your grandfather will be there by this time," he declared.
Elizabeth Eliza was afraid the carry-all would miss them, and thought
they had better wait. Hiram did not like to wait longer, and proposed
that one or two of the little boys should stop to show the way. But it
was so difficult to decide which little boys should stay that he gave
it up. Even to draw lots would take time. So he explained that there
was a lunch hidden somewhere in the straw; and the little boys thought
it an admirable time to look it up, and it was decided to stop in the
sun at the corner of the road. Elizabeth Eliza felt a little jounced
in the armchair, and was glad of a rest; and the little boys soon
discovered an ample lunch,--just what might have been expected from
Grandfather's,--apple-pie and doughnuts, and plenty of them! "Lucky
we brought so many little boys!" they exclaimed.
Hiram, however, began to grow impatient. "There 'll be no snow left," he
exclaimed, "and no afternoon for the syrup!"
But far in the distance the Peterkin carry-all was seen slowly
approaching through the snow, Solomon John waving a red handkerchief.
The little boys waved back, and Hiram ventured to enter upon the
wood-road, but at a slow pace, as Elizabeth Eliza still feared that by
some accident the family might miss them.
It was with difficulty that the carry-all followed in the deep but soft
snow, in among the trunks of the trees and over piles of leaves hidden
in the snow. They reached at last the edge of a meadow; and on the high
bank above it stood a row of maples, a little shanty by the side, a slow
smoke proceeding from its chimney. The little boys screamed with
delight, but there was no reply. Nobody there!
"The folks all gone!" exclaimed Hiram; "then we must be late." And he
proceeded to pull out a large silver watch from a side pocket. It was so
large 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 by
eleven; they have given you up."
The little boys wanted to force in the door; but Hiram said it was no
use,--they wouldn't understand what to do, and he should have to see to
the horses,--and it was too late, and it was likely they had carried off
all the syrup. But he thought a minute, as they all stood in silence and
gloom; 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; so
the eight little boys walked through the wood-path, Hiram leading the
way; 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 their
syrup 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 syrup
there."
But Mrs. Spear could not tell where the festival was to be, as she had
not heard; perhaps they might know at Squire Ramsay's. Squire Ramsay's
was on their way to Grandfather's, so they stopped there; but they
learned that the "Squire's folks had all gone with their syrup to the
festival," but the man who was chopping wood did not know where the
festival was to be.
"They 'll know at your grandfather's," said Mrs. Peterkin, from the
carry-all.
"Yes, go on to your grandfather's," advised Mr. Peterkin, "for I think
I felt a drop of rain." So they made the best of their way to
Grandfather's.
At the moment they reached the door of the house, a party of young
people whom Elizabeth Eliza knew came by in sleighs. She had met them
all when visiting at her grandfather's.
"Come along with us," they shouted; "we are all going down to the sugar
festival."
"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 our
syrup. 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 that
he could take them back with the wood-sled, when he heard there was
sleighing on the old road; and it was decided that the whole party
should go in the wood-sled, with the exception of Mr. Peterkin, who
would follow on with the carry-all. Mrs. Peterkin would take the
arm-chair, and cushions were put in for Elizabeth Eliza, and more
apple-pie for all. No more drops of rain appeared, though the clouds
were thickening over the setting sun.
"All the way back again," sighed Mrs. Peterkin, "when we might have
stayed at home all day, and gone quietly out to the New Hall!" But
the little boys thought the sledding all day was great fun,--and the
apple-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 Elizabeth
Eliza; "for the secretary did say something about the society meeting
there 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 used
for lectures, assemblies, and entertainments of this sort, for the
convenience of the inhabitants who had collected about some flourishing
factories.
"You can go to your own Circumambient Society, then!" exclaimed Solomon
John.
"And in a truly circumambient manner," said Agamemnon; and he explained
to the little boys that they could now understand the full meaning of
the word, for surely Elizabeth Eliza had taken the most circumambient
way of reaching the place by coming away from it.
"We little thought, when we passed it early this morning," said
Elizabeth 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 the
sugar festival," said Mrs. Peterkin.
"It is one of the rules of the society," said Elizabeth Eliza, "that the
secretary never tells anything directly. She only hinted at the plan of
the 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 happened
if they had happened."
They arrived at the festival at last, but very late, and glad to find a
place that was warm. There was a stove at each end of the hall, and an
encouraging sound and smell from the simmering syrup. There were long
tables down the hall, on which were placed, in a row, first a bowl of
snow, then a pile of saucers and spoons, then a plate of pickles,
intended to whet the appetite for more syrup; another of bread, then
another bowl of snow, and so on. Hot syrup was to be poured on the snow
and eaten as candy.
The Peterkin family were received at this late hour with a wild
enthusiasm. Elizabeth Eliza was an especial heroine, and was made
directly the president of the evening. Everybody said that she had best
earned the distinction; for had she not come to the meeting by the
longest way possible, by going away from it? The secretary declared that
the principles of the society had been completely carried out. She had
always believed that if left to itself, information would spread itself
in a natural instead of a forced way.
"Now, in this case, if I had written twenty-nine notifications to this
meeting, I should have wasted just so much of my time. But the
information has disseminated naturally. Ann Maria said what a good plan
it would be to have the Circumambients go to the sugaring at the New
Hall. Everybody said it would be a good plan. Elizabeth Eliza came and
spoke of the sugaring, and I spoke of the New Hall."
"But if you had told Elizabeth Eliza that all the maple syrup was to be
brought 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 back
with the wood-sled), Mr. and Mrs. Peterkin, after leaving little boys at
their homes all along the route, found none of their own to get out at
their own door. They must have joined Elizabeth Eliza, Agamemnon, and
Solomon John in taking a circuitous route home with the rest of the
Circumambients.
"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 a
day!"
"Elizabeth Eliza will feel that she has acted up to the principles of
the society," said Mr. Peterkin, "and we have done our best; for, as the
little 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 at
dinner. They had had charades and a picnic. Elizabeth Eliza wished for
something unusual, that should be remembered after they had left for
Egypt. Why should it not be a fancy ball? There never had been one in
the place.
Mrs. Peterkin hesitated. Perhaps for that reason they ought not to
attempt it. She liked to have things that other people had. She however
objected 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 to
wear their costumes through a whole evening! Mrs. Peterkin shook her
head; it was days and days before the brown had washed out of their
complexions.
Still, she too was interested in the "dressing up." If they should wear
costumes, they could make them of things that might be left behind, that
they had done wearing, if they could only think of the right kind of
things.
Mrs. Peterkin, indeed, had already packed up, although they were not to
leave 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 to
travel with,--merely your travelling dress and a black silk. Mrs.
Peterkin, on the contrary, had heard it was best to take everything you
had, and then you need not spend your time shopping in Paris. So they
had decided upon adopting both ways. Mrs. Peterkin was to take her
"everything," and already had all the shoes and stockings she should
need for a year or two. Elizabeth Eliza, on the other hand, prepared a
small valise. She consoled herself with the thought that if she should
meet anything that would not go into it, she could put it in one of her
mother's trunks.
It was resolved to give the fancy ball.
Mr. Peterkin early determined upon a character. He decided to be Julius
Cæsar. He had a bald place on the top of his head, which he was told
resembled that of the great Roman; and he concluded that the dress would
be a simple one to get up, requiring only a sheet for a toga.