The Peterkin Papers

  THE PETERKINS AT THE "CARNIVAL OF AUTHORS" IN BOSTON.

  THE Peterkins were in quite a muddle (for them) about the carnivalof authors, to be given in Boston. As soon as it was announced, theirinterests were excited, and they determined that all the family shouldgo.

  But they conceived a wrong idea of the entertainment, as they supposedthat every one must go in costume. Elizabeth Eliza thought theirlessons in the foreign languages would help them much in conversing incharacter.

  As the carnival was announced early Solomon John thought there would betime to read up everything written by all the authors, in order to beacquainted with the characters they introduced. Mrs. Peterkin did notwish to begin too early upon the reading, for she was sure she shouldforget all that the different authors had written before the day came.

  But Elizabeth Eliza declared that she should hardly have time enough,as it was, to be acquainted with all the authors. She had given up herFrench lessons, after taking six, for want of time, and had, indeed,concluded she had learned in them all she should need to know of thatlanguage. She could repeat one or two pages of phrases, and she wasastonished to find how much she could understand already of what theFrench teacher said to her; and he assured her that when she went toParis she could at least ask the price of gloves, or of some otherthings she would need, and he taught her, too, how to pronounce"garcon," in calling for more.

  Agamemnon thought that different members of the family might makethemselves familiar with different authors; the little boys were alreadyacquainted with "Mother Goose." Mr. Peterkin had read the "PickwickPapers," and Solomon John had actually seen Mr. Longfellow getting intoa horse-car.

  Elizabeth Eliza suggested that they might ask the Turk to give lecturesupon the "Arabian Nights." Everybody else was planning something of thesort, to "raise funds" for some purpose, and she was sure they ought notto be behindhand. Mrs.

  Peterkin approved of this. It would be excellent if they could raisefunds enough to pay for their own tickets to the carnival; then theycould go every night.

  Elizabeth Eliza was uncertain. She thought it was usual to use the fundsfor some object. Mr. Peterkin said that if they gained funds enough theymight arrange a booth of their own, and sit in it, and take the carnivalcomfortably.

  But Agamemnon reminded him that none of the family were authors, andonly authors had booths. Solomon John, indeed, had once started uponwriting a book, but he was not able to think of anything to put in it,and nothing had occurred to him yet.

  Mr. Peterkin urged him to make one more effort. If his book could comeout before the carnival he could go as an author, and might have a boothof his own, and take his family.

  But Agamemnon declared it would take years to become an author. Youmight indeed publish something, but you had to make sure that it wouldbe read. Mrs.

  Peterkin, on the other hand, was certain that libraries were filled withbooks that never were read, yet authors had written them. For herself,she had not read half the books in their own library. And she was gladthere was to be a Carnival of Authors, that she might know who theywere.

  Mr. Peterkin did not understand why they called them a "Carnival"; buthe supposed they should find out when they went to it.

  Mrs. Peterkin still felt uncertain about costumes. She proposed lookingover the old trunks in the garret. They would find some suitabledresses there, and these would suggest what characters they should take.Elizabeth Eliza was pleased with this thought. She remembered an oldturban of white mull muslin, in an old bandbox, and why should not hermother wear it?

  Mrs. Peterkin supposed that she should then go as her own grandmother.

  Agamemnon did not approve of this. Turbans are now worn in the East, andMrs.

  Peterkin could go in some Eastern character. Solomon John thought shemight be Cleopatra, and this was determined on. Among the treasuresfound were some old bonnets, of large size, with waving plumes.Elizabeth Eliza decided upon the largest of these.

  She was tempted to appear as Mrs. Columbus, as Solomon John was to takethe character of Christopher Columbus; but he was planning to enterupon the stage in a boat, and Elizabeth Eliza was a little afraid ofsea-sickness, as he had arranged to be a great while finding the shore.

  Solomon John had been led to take this character by discovering acoal-hod that would answer for a helmet; then, as Christopher Columbuswas born in Genoa, he could use the phrases in Italian he had latelylearned of his teacher.

  As the day approached the family had their costumes prepared.

  Mr. Peterkin decided to be Peter the Great. It seemed to him a happythought, for the few words of Russian he had learned would come in play,and he was quite sure that his own family name made him kin to that ofthe great Czar. He studied up the life in the Encyclopaedia, and decidedto take the costume of a ship-builder. He visited the navy-yard andsome of the docks; but none of them gave him the true idea of dress forship-building in Holland or St. Petersburg.

  But he found a picture of Peter the Great, representing him in abroad-brimmed hat. So he assumed one that he found at a costumer's,and with Elizabeth Eliza's black waterproof was satisfied with his ownappearance.

  Elizabeth Eliza wondered if she could not go with her father in someRussian character. She would have to lay aside her large bonnet, but shehad seen pictures of Russian ladies, with fur muffs on their heads, andshe might wear her own muff.

  Mrs. Peterkin, as Cleopatra, wore the turban, with a little row of falsecurls in front, and a white embroidered muslin shawl crossed over herblack silk dress. The little boys thought she looked much like thepicture of their great-grandmother. But doubtless Cleopatra resembledthis picture, as it was all so long ago, so the rest of the familydecided.

  Agamemnon determined to go as Noah. The costume, as represented in oneof the little boys' arks, was simple. His father's red-lined dressinggown, turned inside out, permitted it easily.

  Elizabeth Eliza was now anxious to be Mrs. Shem, and make a long dressof yellow flannel, and appear with Agamemnon and the little boys. Forthe little boys were to represent two doves and a raven. There werefeather-dusters enough in the family for their costumes, which would bethen complete with their india-rubber boots.

  Solomon John carried out in detail his idea of Christopher Columbus.He had a number of eggs boiled hard to take in his pocket, proposing torepeat, through the evening, the scene of setting the egg on its end.He gave up the plan of a boat, as it must be difficult to carry one intotown; so he contented himself by practising the motion of landing bystepping up on a chair.

  But what scene could Elizabeth Eliza carry out? If they had an ark, asMrs. Shem she might crawl in and out of the roof constantly, if it werenot too high. But Mr. Peterkin thought it as difficult to take an arkinto town as Solomon John's boat.

  The evening came. But with all their preparations they got to the halllate. The entrance was filled with a crowd of people, and, as theystopped at the cloakroom, to leave their wraps, they found themselvesentangled with a number of people in costume coming out from adressing-room below. Mr. Peterkin was much encouraged. They were thusjoining the performers. The band was playing the "Wedding March" as theywent upstairs to a door of the hall which opened upon one side of thestage. Here a procession was marching up the steps of the stage, all incostume, and entering behind the scenes.

  "We are just in the right time," whispered Mr. Peterkin to his family;"they are going upon the stage; we must fall into line." The little boyshad their feather-dusters ready. Some words from one of the managersmade Peterkin understand the situation.

  "We are going to be introduced to Mr. Dickens," he said.

  "I thought he was dead!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin trembling.

  "Authors live forever!" said Agamemnon in her ear.

  At this moment they were ushered upon the stage. The stage managerglared at them, as he awaited their names for introduction, while theycame up all unannounced,--a part of the programme not expected. But heuttered the words upon his lips, "Great Expecta
tions;" and the Peterkinfamily swept across the stage with the rest: Mr. Peterkin costumed asPeter the Great, Mrs. Peterkin as Cleopatra, Agamemnon as Noah, SolomonJohn as Christopher Columbus, Elizabeth Eliza in yellow flannel as Mrs.Shem, with a large, old-fashioned bonnet on her head as Mrs. Columbus,and the little boys behind as two doves and a raven.

  Across the stage, in face of all the assembled people, then followingthe rest down the stairs on the other side, in among the audience, theywent; but into an audience not dressed in costume!

  There were Ann Maria Bromwick and the Osbornes,--all the neighbors,--allas natural as though they were walking the streets at home, though AnnMaria did wear white gloves.

  "I had no idea you were to appear in character," said Ann Maria toElizabeth Eliza; "to what booth do you belong?"

  "We are no particular author," said Mr. Peterkin.

  "Ah, I see, a sort of varieties' booth," said Mr. Osborne.

  "What is your character?" asked Ann Maria of Elizabeth Eliza.

  "I have not quite decided," said Elizabeth Eliza. "I thought I shouldfind out after I came here. The marshal called us 'Great Expectations.'"

  Mrs. Peterkin was at the summit of bliss. "I have shaken hands withDickens!" she exclaimed.

  But she looked round to ask the little boys if they, too, had shakenhands with the great man, but not a little boy could she find.

  They had been swept off in Mother Goose's train, which had lingered onthe steps to see the Dickens reception, with which the procession ofcharacters in costume had closed. At this moment they were dancinground the barberry bush, in a corner of the balcony in Mother Goose'squarters, their feather-dusters gayly waving in the air.

  But Mrs. Peterkin, far below, could not see this, and consoled herselfwith the thought, they should all meet on the stage in the grand closingtableau. She was bewildered by the crowds which swept her hither andthither. At last she found herself in the Whittier Booth, and sat a longtime calmly there. As Cleopatra she seemed out of place, but as her owngrandmother she answered well with its New England scenery.

  Solomon John wandered about, landing in America whenever he found achance to enter a booth. Once before an admiring audience he set up hisegg in the centre of the Goethe Booth, which had been deserted by itscommittee for the larger stage.

  Agamemnon frequently stood in the background of scenes in the ArabianNights.

  It was with difficulty that the family could be repressed from goingon the stage whenever the bugle sounded for the different groupsrepresented there.

  Elizabeth Eliza came near appearing in the "Dream of Fair Women," at itsmost culminating point.

  Mr. Peterkin found himself with the "Cricket on the Hearth," in theDickens Booth. He explained that he was Peter the Great, but always inthe Russian language, which was never understood.

  Elizabeth Eliza found herself, in turn, in all the booths. Every managerwas puzzled by her appearance, and would send her to some other, and shepassed along, always trying to explain that she had not yet decided uponher character.

  Mr. Peterkin came and took Cleopatra from the Whittier Booth.

  "I cannot understand," he said, "why none of our friends are dressed incostume, and why we are."

  "I rather like it," said Elizabeth Eliza, "though I should be betterpleased if I could form a group with some one."

  The strains of the minuet began. Mrs. Peterkin was anxious to join theperformers. It was the dance of her youth.

  But she was delayed by one of the managers on the steps that led to thestage.

  "I cannot understand this company," he said, distractedly.

  "They cannot find their booth," said another.

  "That is the case," said Mr. Peterkin, relieved to have it stated.

  "Perhaps you had better pass into the corridor," said a polite marshal.

  They did this, and, walking across, found themselves in therefreshment-room.

  "This is the booth for us," said Mr. Peterkin.

  "Indeed it is," said Mrs. Peterkin, sinking into a chair, exhausted.

  At this moment two doves and a raven appeared,--the little boys, who hadbeen dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came downfor ice-cream.

  "I hardly know how to sit down," said Elizabeth Eliza, "for I am sureMrs. Shem never could. Still, as I do not know if I am Mrs. Shem, I willventure it."

  Happily, seats were to be found for all, and they were soon arranged ina row, calmly eating ice-cream.

  "I think the truth is," said Mr. Peterkin, "that we represent historicalpeople, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. Thatis, I observe, what the others are. We shall know better another time."

  "If we only ever get home," said Mrs. Peterkin, "I shall not wish tocome again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and itis so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and goinground and round in this way."

  "I am afraid we shall never reach home," said Agamemnon, who had beensilent for some time; "we may have to spend the night here. I find Ihave lost our checks for our clothes in the cloak-room!"

  "Spend the night in a booth, in Cleopatra's turban!" exclaimed Mrs.Peterkin.

  "We should like to come every night," cried the little boys.

  "But to spend the night," repeated Mrs. Peterkin.

  "I conclude the Carnival keeps up all night," said Mr. Peterkin.

  "But never to recover our cloaks," said Mrs. Peterkin; "could not thelittle boys look round for the checks on the floors?"

  She began to enumerate the many valuable things that they might neversee again.

  She had worn her large fur cape of stone-marten,--her grandmother's,--thatElizabeth Eliza had been urging her to have made into a foot-rug. Nowhow she wished she had! And there were Mr. Peterkin's new overshoes,and Agamemnon had brought an umbrella, and the little boys had theirmittens. Their india-rubber boots, fortunately, they had on, in thecharacter of birds. But Solomon John had worn a fur cap, and ElizabethEliza a muff. Should they lose all these valuables entirely, and go homein the cold without them? No, it would be better to wait till everybodyhad gone, and then look carefully over the floors for the checks; ifonly the little boys could know where Agamemnon had been, they werewilling to look. Mr. Peterkin was not sure as they would have time toreach the train.

  Still, they would need something to wear, and he could not tell thetime. He had not brought his watch. It was a Waltham watch, and hethought it would not be in character for Peter the Great to wear it.

  At this moment the strains of "Home, Sweet Home" were heard from theband, and people were seen preparing to go.

  "All can go home, but we must stay," said Mrs. Peterkin, gloomily, asthe well-known strains floated in from the larger hall.

  A number of marshals came to the refreshment-room, looked at them,whispered to each other, as the Peterkins sat in a row.

  "Can we do anything for you?" asked one at last. "Would you not like togo?" He seemed eager they should leave the room.

  Mr. Peterkin explained that they could not go, as they had lost thechecks for their wraps, and hoped to find their checks on the floor wheneverybody was gone. The marshal asked if they could not describewhat they had worn, in which case the loss of the checks was not soimportant, as the crowds had now almost left, and it would not bedifficult to identify their wraps. Mrs. Peterkin eagerly declared shecould describe every article.

  It was astonishing how the marshals hurried them through the quicklydeserted corridors, how gladly they recovered their garments! Mrs.Peterkin, indeed, was disturbed by the eagerness of the marshals; shefeared they had some pretext for getting the family out of the hall.Mrs. Peterkin was one of those who never consent to be forced toanything. She would not be compelled to go home, even with strains ofmusic. She whispered her suspicions to Mr. Peterkin; but Agamemnon camehastily up to announce the time, which he had learned from the clockin the large hall. They must leave directly if they wished to catch thelatest train, as there was barely time to reac
h it.

  Then, indeed, was Mrs. Peterkin ready to leave. If they should miss thetrain!

  If she should have to pass the night in the streets in her turban! Shewas the first to lead the way, and, panting, the family followed her,just in time to take the train as it was leaving the station.

  The excitement was not yet over. They found in the train many of theirfriends and neighbors, returning also from the Carnival; so they hadmany questions put to them which they were unable to answer. Still Mrs.Peterkin's turban was much admired, and indeed the whole appearanceof the family; so that they felt themselves much repaid for theirexertions.

  But more adventures awaited them. They left the train with theirfriends; but as Mrs. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza were very tired, theywalked very slowly, and Solomon John and the little boys were senton with the pass-key to open the door. They soon returned with thestartling intelligence that it was not the right key, and they could notget in. It was Mr. Peterkin's office-key; he had taken it by mistake, orhe might have dropped the house-key in the cloak-room of the Carnival.

  "Must we go back?" sighed Mrs. Peterkin, in an exhausted voice. Morethan ever did Elizabeth Eliza regret that Agamemnon's invention in keyshad failed to secure a patent!

  It was impossible to get into the house, for Amanda had been allowed togo and spend the night with a friend, so there was no use in ringing,though the little boys had tried it.

  "We can return to the station," said Mr. Peterkin; "the rooms will bewarm, on account of the midnight train. We can, at least, think what weshall do next."

  At the station was one of their neighbors, proposing to take the NewYork midnight train, for it was now after eleven, and the train wentthrough at half-past.

  "I saw lights at the locksmith's over the way, as I passed," he said;"why do not you send over to the young man there? He can get your dooropen for you. I never would spend the night here."

  Solomon John went over to "the young man," who agreed to go up to thehouse as soon as he had closed the shop, fit a key, and open the door,and come back to them on his way home. Solomon John came back to thestation, for it was now cold and windy in the deserted streets. Thefamily made themselves as comfortable as possible by the stove, sendingSolomon John out occasionally to look for the young man. But somehowSolomon John missed him; the lights were out in the locksmith's shop, sohe followed along to the house, hoping to find him there.

  But he was not there! He came back to report. Perhaps the young man hadopened the door and gone on home. Solomon John and Agamemnon went backtogether, but they could not get in. Where was the young man? He hadlately come to town, and nobody knew where he lived, for on the returnof Solomon John and Agamemnon it had been proposed to go to the house ofthe young man. The night was wearing on.

  The midnight train had come and gone. The passengers who came and wentlooked with wonder at Mrs. Peterkin, nodding in her turban, as she satby the stove, on a corner of a long bench. At last the station-masterhad to leave, for a short rest. He felt obliged to lock up the station,but he promised to return at an early hour to release them.

  "Of what use," said Elizabeth Eliza, "if we cannot even then get intoour own house?"

  Mr. Peterkin thought the matter appeared bad, if the locksmith had lefttown. He feared the young man might have gone in, and helped himself tospoons, and left.

  Only they should have seen him if he had taken the midnight train.Solomon John thought he appeared honest. Mr. Peterkin only ventured towhisper his suspicions, as he did not wish to arouse Mrs. Peterkin, whostill was nodding in the corner of the long bench.

  Morning did come at last. The family decided to go to their home;perhaps by some effort in the early daylight they might make anentrance.

  On the way they met with the night-policeman, returning from his beat.He stopped when he saw the family.

  "Ah! that accounts," he said; "you were all out last night, and theburglars took occasion to make a raid on your house. I caught a livelyyoung man in the very act; box of tools in his hand! If I had been aminute late he would have made his way in"--The family then tried tointerrupt--to explain--"Where is he?" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin.

  "Safe in the lock-up," answered the policeman.

  "But he is the locksmith!" interrupted Solomon John.

  "We have no key!" said Elizabeth Eliza; "if you have locked up thelocksmith we can never get in."

  The policeman looked from one to the other, smiling slightly when heunderstood the case.

  "The locksmith!" he exclaimed; "he is a new fellow, and I did notrecognize him, and arrested him! Very well, I will go and let him out,that he may let you in!" and he hurried away, surprising the Peterkinfamily with what seemed like insulting screams of laughter.

  "It seems to me a more serious case than it appears to him," said Mr.Peterkin.

  Mrs. Peterkin did not understand it at all. Had burglars entered thehouse? Did the policeman say they had taken spoons? And why did heappear so pleased? She was sure the old silver teapot was locked up inthe closet of their room. Slowly the family walked towards the house,and, almost as soon as they, the policeman appeared with the releasedlocksmith, and a few boys from the street, who happened to be out early.

  The locksmith was not in very good humor, and took ill the jokes of thepoliceman. Mr. Peterkin, fearing he might not consent to open the door,pressed into his hand a large sum of money. The door flew open; thefamily could go in.

  Amanda arrived at the same moment. There was hope of breakfast. Mrs.Peterkin staggered towards the stairs. "I shall never go to anothercarnival!" she exclaimed.