1883.] He puckered up his lips and whistled thoughtfully and low,— THE expedition up the Nile had taken place successfully. The Peterkin family had reached Cairo again—at least, its scattered remnant was there, and they were now to consider what next. Mrs. Peterkin would like to spend her life in the dahabieh, though she could not pronounce its name, and she still felt the strangeness of the scenes about her. However, she had only to look out upon the mud villages on the bank to see that she was in the veritable "Africa" she had seen pictured in the geography of her childhood. If further corroboration were required, had she not, only the day before, when accompanied by no one but a little donkey-boy, shuddered to meet a strange Nubian, attired principally in hair that stood out from his savage face in frizzes at least half a yard long. But oh, the comforts of no trouble in housekeeping on board the dahabich! Never to know what they were to have for dinner, nor to be asked what they would like, and yet always to have a dinner you could ask chance friends to, knowing all would be perfectly served! Some of the party with whom they had engaged their dahabich had even brought canned baked beans from New England, which seemed to make their happiness complete. "Though we see beans here," said Mrs. Peterkin, "they are not 'Boston beans'!" She had fancied she would have to live on stuffed ostrich (ostrich stuffed with iron filings, that the books tell of), or fried hippopotamus, or boiled rhinoceros. But she met with none of these, and day after day was rejoiced to find her native turkey appearing on the table, with pigeons and A boat used for transportation on the Nile. chickens (though the chickens, to be sure, were scarcely larger than the pigeons), and lamb that was really not more tough than that of New Hampshire and the White Mountains. If they dined with the Arabs, there was indeed a kind of dark molasses-gingerbread-looking cake, with curds in it, that she found it hard to eat. "But they like it," she said, complacently. The remaining little boy, too, smiled over his pile of ripe bananas, as he thought of the quarterof-a-dollar-a-half-dozen green ones at that moment waiting at the corners of the streets at home. Indeed, it was a land for boys. There were the dates, both fresh and dried-far more juicy than those learned at school; and there was the gingerbreadnut tree, the dóm palm, that bore a nut tasting "like baker's gingerbread that has been kept a few days in the shop," as the remaining little boy remarked. And he wished for his brothers when the live dinner came on board their boat, at the stopping-places, in the form of good-sized sheep struggling on the shoulders of stout Arabs, or an armful of live hens and pigeons. All the family (or as much of it as was present) agreed with Mrs. Peterkin's views. Amanda at home had seemed quite a blessing, but at this distance her services, compared with the attentions of their Maltese dragoman and the devotion of their Arab servants, seemed of doubtful value, and even Mrs. Peterkin dreaded returning to her tender mercies. "Just imagine inviting the Russian Count to dinner at home and Amanda !" exclaimed Elizabeth Eliza. Mr. The family recalled many anecdotes of the shortcomings of Amanda, as Mrs. Peterkin leaned back upon her divan and wafted a fly-whisk. Peterkin had expended large sums in telegrams from every point where he found the telegraph in operation; but there was no reply from Solomon John, and none from the two little boys. By a succession of telegrams, they had learned that no one had fallen into the crater of Vesuvius in the course of the last six months, not even a little boy. This was consoling. By letters from the lady from Philadelphia, they learned that she had received Solomon John's telegram from Geneva at the time she heard from the rest of the family, and one signed "L. Boys" from Naples. But neither of these telegrams gave an address for return answers, which she had, however, sent to Geneva and Naples, with the fatal omission by the operator (as she afterward learned) of the date, as in the other telegrams. Mrs. Peterkin, therefore, disliked to be long away from the Sphinx, and their excursion up the Nile had been shortened on this account. All the Nubian guides near the pyramids had been furnished with additional backsheesh and elaborate explanations from Mr. Peterkin as to how they should send him information if Solomon John and the little boys should turn up at the Sphinx-for all the family agreed they would probably appear in Egypt together. Mrs. Peterkin regretted not having any photographs to leave with the guides; but Elizabeth Eliza, alas! had lost at Brindisi the hand-bag that contained the family photograph-book. Mrs. Peterkin would have liked to take up her residence near the Sphinx for the rest of the year. But every one warned her that the heat of an Egyptian summer would not allow her to stay at Cairo - scarcely even on the sea-shore, at Alexandria. How thankful was Mrs. Peterkin, a few months after, when the war in Egypt broke out, that her wishes had not been yielded to! For many nights she could not sleep, picturing how they all might have been massacred by the terrible mob in Alexandria. Intelligence of Solomon John led them to take their departure. One day, they were discussing at the table d'hôte their letters from the lady from Philadelphia, and how they showed that Solomon John had been at Geneva. "Ah, there was his mistake!" said Elizabeth Eliza. "The Doolittles left Marseilles with us, and were to branch off for Geneva, and we kept on to Genoa, and Solomon John was always mistaking Genoa for Geneva, as we planned our route. remember there was a great confusion when they got off." I "I always mix up Geneva and Genoa," said Mrs. Peterkin. "I feel as if they were the same." "They are quite different," said Elizabeth Eliza; "and Genoa lay in our route, while Geneva took him into Switzerland." An English gentleman, on the opposite side of the table, then spoke to Mr. Peterkin. "I beg pardon," he said. "I think I met one of your name in Athens. He attracted our attention because he went every day to the same spot, and he told us he expected to meet his family there-that he had an appointment by telegraph—" "In Athens!" exclaimed Mrs. Peterkin. "Was his name Solomon John?" asked Elizabeth Eliza. It was found that a steamer would leave Alexandria next day for Athens, by way of Smyrna and "Were there two little boys?" inquired Mrs. Constantinople. This was a roundabout course, but Peterkin. "His initials were the same as mine," replied the Englishman,-"S. J. P.,- for some of his luggage came by mistake into my room, and that is why I spoke of it." "Is there a Sphinx in Athens?" Mrs. Peterkin inquired. Mean Mr. Peterkin was impatient to leave, and was glad And Mrs. Peterkin did not now shrink from "There used to be one there," said Agamem- made her forget her sufferings in crossing the At non. "I beg your pardon," said the Englishman, "but that Sphinx never was in Athens." "But Solomon John may have made the mistake—we all make our mistakes," said Mrs. Peterkin, tying her bonnet-strings, as if ready to go to meet Solomon John at that moment. lantic, and she no longer dreaded entering another steam-boat. Their delight in river navigation, indeed, had been so great that the whole family had listened with interest to the descriptions given by their Russian fellow-traveler of steam-boat navigation on the Volga-"the most beautiful river in the world," as he declared. Elizabeth Eliza and Mr. Peterkin were eager to try it, and Agamemnon remarked that such a trip would give them an opportunity to visit the renowned fair at Nijninovgorod. Even Mrs. Peterkin had consented to "But was Solomon John inquiring for it?" this expedition, provided they should meet Soloasked Mr. Peterkin. "The Sphinx was at Thebes in the days of Edipus," said the Englishman. "No one would expect to find it anywhere in Greece at the present day." "Indeed, no!" answered the Englishman; "he went every day to the Pnyx, a famous hill in Athens, where his telegram had warned him he should meet his friends." how do you spell it?" mon John and the other little boys. She started, therefore, on a fresh voyage without any dread, forgetting that the Mediterranean, if not so wide as the Atlantic, is still a sea, and often as tempestuous and uncomfortably "choppy.' "The Pnyx!" exclaimed Mr. Peterkin; "and Alas! she was soon to be awakened from her forgetfulness the sea was the same old enemy. As they passed up among the Ionian Isles, and she heard Agamemnon and Elizabeth Eliza and "P-n-y-x!" cried Agamemnon letters as in Sphinx!" "the same "All but the 's' and the 'h' and the 'y,'" their Russian friend (who was accompanying said Elizabeth Eliza. them to Constantinople) talking of the old gods of that Neptune and the classic waves were wreak "I often spell Sphinx with a 'y' myself," said Greece, she fancied that they were living still, and Mr. Peterkin. "And a telegraph-operator makes such mis- ing their vengeance on them, and pounding and takes!" said Agamemnon. "His telegram had been forwarded to him from Switzerland," said the Englishman; "it had followed him into the Dolomite region, and must have been translated many times." "And of course they could not all have been expected to keep the letters in the right order," said Elizabeth Eliza. punishing them for venturing to rule them with steam. She was fairly terrified. As they entered Smyrna she declared she would never enter any kind of a boat again, and that Mr. Peterkin must find some way by which they could reach home by land. How delightful it was to draw near the shore, on a calm afternoon - even to trust herself to the "And were there two little boys with him?" re- charge of the boatmen in leaving the ship, and to peated Mrs. Peterkin.. No; there were no little boys. But further inquiries satisfied the family that Solomon John must be awaiting them in Athens. And how natural the mistake! Mrs. Peterkin said that, if she had known of a Pnyx, she should surely have looked for the family there. Should they then meet Solomon John at the Pnyx, or summon him to Egypt? It seemed safer to go directly to Athens, especially as Mr. Peterkin and Agamemnon were anxious to visit that city. reach land once more and meet the tumult of voices and people! Here was the screaming and shouting usual in the East, and the same bright array of turbans and costumes in the crowd awaiting them. But a well-known voice reached them, and from the crowd rose a well-known face. Even before they reached the land they had recognized its owner. With his American dress, he looked almost foreign in contrast to the otherwise universal Eastern color. A tall figure on either side seemed, also, each to have a familiar air. Were there three Solomon Johns? No; it was Solomon John and the two other little boys - but grown so that they were no longer little boys. Even Mrs. Peterkin was unable to recognize them at first. But the tones of their voices, their ways, were as natural as ever. Each had a banana in his hand, and pockets stuffed with oranges. Questions and answers interrupted each other in a most confusing manner: "Are you the little boys?" "Where have you been?" "Did you go to Vesuvius?' "How did you get away?" "Why did n't you come sooner?" temptation, and at one time Mrs. Peterkin actually pleaded for it. But there came a throbbing in her head, a swimming in her eyes, a swaying of the very floor of the hotel. Could she bear it, day after day, week after week? Would any of them be alive? And Constantinople not seen, nor steam-navigation on the Volga! And so new plans arose, and wonderful discoveries were made, and the future of the Peterkin family was changed forever. In the first place, a strange, stout gentleman in spectacles had followed the Peterkin family to the hotel, had joined in the family councils, and had rendered valuable service in negotiating with "Our India-rubber boots stuck in the hot lava." the officers of the steamer for the cancellation of “Have you been there all this time?” "No; we left them there." "Have you had fresh dates?" "They are all gone now, but the dried ones are better than those squeezed ones we have at home." "How you have grown!" "Why did n't you telegraph?" "Why did you go to Vesuvius, when Papa said he could n't?" "Did you, too, think it was Pnyx?" The little boys could not yet thoroughly explain themselves; they always talked together, and in foreign languages, interrupting each other, and never agreeing as to dates. Solomon John accounted for his appearance in Smyrna by explaining that, when he received his father's telegram in Athens, he decided to meet them at Smyrna. He was tired of waiting at the Pnyx. He had but just landed, and came near missing his family, and the little boys too, who had reached Athens just as he was leaving it. None of the family wished now to continue their journey to Athens, but they had the advice and assistance of their Russian friend in planning to leave the steamer at Constantinople; they would, by adopting this plan, be en route for the proposed excursion to the Volga. Mrs. Peterkin was overwhelmed with joy at having all her family together once more; but with it a wave of home-sickness surged over her. They were all together; why not go home? their through tickets to Athens. He dined at the same table, and was consulted by the (formerly) little boys. Who was he? They explained that he was their "preceptor." It appeared that, after they parted from their father, the little boys had become mixed up with some pupils who were being taken by their preceptor to Vesuvius. For some time he had not noticed that his party (consisting of boys of their own age) had been enlarged; and after finding this out, he had concluded they were the sons of an English family with whom he had been corresponding. He was surprised that no further intelligence came with them, and no extra baggage. They had, however, their hand-bags; and after sending their telegram to the lady from Philadelphia, they assured him that all would be right. But they were obliged to leave Naples the very day of dispatching the telegram, and left no address to which an answer could be sent. The preceptor took them, with his pupils, directly back to his institution in Gratz, Austria, from which he had taken them on this little excursion. It was not till the end of the winter that he discovered that his youthful charges-whom he had been faithfully instructing, and who had found the gymnasium and invigorating atmosphere so favorable to growth-were not the sons of his English correspondent, whom he had supposed, from their explanations, to be traveling in America. He was, however, intending to take his pupils to Athens in the spring, and by this time the little boys were able to explain themselves better in his native language. They assured him they should meet their family in the East, and the preceptor felt it safe to take them upon the track proposed. It was found that there was a sailing-vessel. bound absolutely for Maine, in which they might take passage. No more separation; no more mistakes; no more tedious study of guide-books; no more weighing of baggage. Every trunk and bag, It was now that Mr. Peterkin prided himself every Peterkin, could be placed in the boat, and upon the plan he had insisted upon before leaving safely landed on the shores of home. It was a home. "Was it not well," he exclaimed, “that |