h difficulty that the family could be repressed from going
on the stage whenever the bugle sounded for the different groups
represented there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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 the
refreshment-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 had
been dancing eagerly in Mother Goose's establishment, and now came down
for ice-cream.

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

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

"I think the truth is," said Mr. Peterkin, "that we represent historical
people, and we ought to have been fictitious characters in books. That
is, 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 to
come again. It seems like being on the stage, sitting in a booth, and it
is so bewildering, Elizabeth Eliza not knowing who she is, and going