swept across the stage with the rest: Mr. Peterkin costumed as
Peter the Great, Mrs. Peterkin as Cleopatra, Agamemnon as Noah, Solomon
John 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 following
the rest down the stairs on the other side, in among the audience, they
went; but into an audience not dressed in costume!

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

"I had no idea you were to appear in character," said Ann Maria to
Elizabeth 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 should
find out after I came here. The marshal called us 'Great Expectations.'"

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

But she looked round to ask the little boys if they, too, had shaken
hands 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 on
the steps to see the Dickens reception, with which the procession of
characters in costume had closed. At this moment they were dancing
round the barberry bush, in a corner of the balcony in Mother Goose's
quarters, their feather-dusters gayly waving in the air.

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

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

Agamemnon frequently stood in the background of scenes in the Arabian
Nights.

It was wit