er gloomiest fancies had pictured. Would it not be better to
remain in the ship, go back to Southampton, perhaps meet Elizabeth Eliza
there, picking up Mr. Peterkin at Malta on the way? But at this moment
she discovered that she was not on a "P. & O." steamer,--it was a French
steamer of the "Messagerie" line; they had stopped at Messina, and not
at Malta. She could not go back to Southampton, so she was told by an
English colonel on his way to India. He indeed was very courteous, and
advised 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 to
send a telegram?

"Who is Mr. Peterkin's banker?" asked the Colonel. Alas! Mrs. Peterkin
did not know. He had at first selected a banker in London, but had
afterward changed his mind and talked of a banker in Paris; and she was
not sure what was his final decision. She had known the name of the
London banker, but had forgotten it, because she had written it down,
and she never did remember the things she wrote down in her book. That
was her old memorandum-book, and she had left it at home because she had
brought a new one for her travels. She was sorry now she had not kept
the old book. This, however, was not of so much importance, as it did
not 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 she
could appeal, if she did not object to using the ocean telegraph.

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

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

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

Her new friends then invited her to accompany them to their hotel
in Alexandria, from which she could send her despatch. The thought
of thus being able to reach her hand across the sea to the lady from
Philadelphia gave Mrs. Peterkin fresh courage,--courage even to make the
landing. As she descended the side of the ship and was guided down the
steps, she closed her eyes that she might not see herself lifted into
the many-oared boat by the wild-looking Arabs, of whom she had caught
a glimpse from above. But she could