The Peterkin Papers

It may be remembered that the Peterkins originally hesitated about publishing their Family Papers, and were decided by referring the matter to the lady from.
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The first of the Peterkin stories appeared in in the magazine Our Young Folks , which merged in with the new children's monthly St. The series continued for nine years, and made the Peterkins a household word. The collected stories were published in as The Peterkin Papers and were reprinted in The Peterkins were a large family who were extremely intelligent, but didn't have a lick of common sense among them.

Whenever they were confronted with a problem that had a simple solution and a complex one, they unerringly went for the complex one--the simple one never occurred to them. They were usually rescued by their neighbor, the Lady from Philadelphia, known for her wisdom; which usually amounted to the plain, commonsense solution that had been staring them in the face and which any normal person would have seized on immediately. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Jeffers never went out.

One of them, if not two, will be sure to have the headache. Ann Maria Bromwick would come, and the three Gibbons boys, and their sister Juliana; but the other sisters are out West, and there is but one Osborne. Peterkin, "so there will be as much cream and milk as we shall need. Peterkin thought a whole chest would not be needed: Peterkin determined on a chest of tea and a bag of coffee. So they decided to give the invitations to all. It might be a stormy evening and some would be prevented. The lady from Philadelphia and her daughters accepted.

And it turned out a fair day, and more came than were expected. Ann Maria Bromwick had a friend staying with her, and brought her over, for the Bromwicks were opposite neighbors. And the Tremletts had a niece, and Mary Osborne an aunt, that they took the liberty to bring. The little boys were at the door, to show in the guests, and as each set came to the front gate, they ran back to tell their mother that more were coming.

Peterkin had grown dizzy with counting those who had come, and trying to calculate how many were to come, and wondering why there were always more and never less, and whether the cups would go round. The three Tremletts all came, with their niece. They all had had their headaches the day before, and were having that banged feeling you always have after a headache; so they all sat at the same side of the room on the long sofa.

All the Jefferses came, though they had sent uncertain answers. Jeffers had to be helped in, with his cane, by Mr. The Gibbons boys came, and would stand just outside the parlor door. And Juliana appeared afterward, with the two other sisters, unexpectedly home from the West.

Peterkin; and wondered if there were forty-eight people, and why they were all so glad to come, and whether all could sit down. They thought it would not be neighborly to stay away. They insisted on getting into the most uncomfortable seats. Yet there seemed to be seats enough while the Gibbons boys preferred to stand.

But they never could sit round a tea-table.

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Elizabeth Eliza had thought they all might have room at the table, and Solomon John and the little boys could help in the waiting. It was a great moment when the lady from Philadelphia arrived with her daughters. Peterkin was talking to Mr. Bromwick, who was a little deaf. The Gibbons boys retreated a little farther behind the parlor door.


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Peterkin hastened forward to shake hands with the lady from Philadelphia, saying: And the lady from Philadelphia wanted to be introduced to the Bromwicks. It was delightful for the little boys. They came to Elizabeth Eliza, and asked: Can't we fetch the Larkins? Peterkin found time to meet Elizabeth Eliza in the side entry, to ask if there were going to be cups enough. The little boys came to say that the Maberlys were coming. There were the cow and the pig. But if they all took tea or coffee, or both, the cups could not go round.

Agamemnon returned in the midst of her agony. He had not been able to count the guests, they moved about so, they talked so; and it would not look well to appear to count. I know the lady from Philadelphia is talking about the Exhibition, and telling how she stayed at home to receive friends. And they must have had trouble there! Could not you go in and ask, just as if you wanted to know? He had not reached the lives of the Stephensons, or any of the men of modern times. He might skip over to them,—he knew they were men for emergencies.

He ran up to his room, and met Solomon John coming down with chairs. If only he could invent something on the spur of the moment,—a set of bedroom furniture, that in an emergency could be turned into parlor chairs! It seemed an idea; and he sat himself down to his table and pencils, when he was interrupted by the little boys, who came to tell him that Elizabeth Eliza wanted him.

The little boys had been busy thinking. They proposed that the tea-table, with all the things on, should be pushed into the front room, where the company were; and those could take cups who could find cups. But Elizabeth Eliza feared it would not be safe to push so large a table; it might upset, and break what china they had. Agamemnon came down to find her pouring out tea, in the back room.

She called to him: Let things go as far as they would! The little boys took the sugar and cream. This was an idea of Mary Osborne's.

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But what was their surprise, that the more they poured out, the more cups they seemed to have! Elizabeth Eliza took the coffee, and Mary Osborne the tea. Amanda brought fresh cups from the kitchen. Surely there are more cups than there were! And they never had had coffee-cups. Solomon John came in at this moment, breathless with triumph. Bromwick bought this set just where we bought ours. And they had a coffee-set, too"— "You mean where our father and mother bought them.

We were not born," said Elizabeth Eliza. Bromwick has kept all her set of two dozen coffee and tea cups! She told the Gibbons boys, by mistake, instead of Agamemnon, and the little boys. She almost let fall the cups and saucers she took in her hand. No trouble, except about the chairs. She looked into the room; all seemed to be sitting down, even her mother.

No, her father was standing, talking to Mr. But he was drinking coffee, and the Gibbons boys were handing things around. The daughters of the lady from Philadelphia were sitting on shawls on the edge of the window that opened upon the piazza. It was a soft, warm evening, and some of the young people were on the piazza. Everybody was talking and laughing, except those who were listening.

Peterkin broke away, to bring back his cup and another for more coffee. We asked none too many. I should not mind having a tea-party every week. It was going off well. There were cups enough, but she was not sure she could live over another such hour of anxiety; and what was to be done after tea? I But I only expected a few. I brought Julie, and Clara, and Sophie with me. Peterkin and Elizabeth Eliza! But in time for the collation. Did you miss the train? This is Elizabeth Eliza, girls—you have heard me speak of her. What a pity you were too late! Didn't you get my postal-card?

They came in the carryall part. But didn't you start in time?

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Peterkin we should get into trouble with one of those carryalls that don't turn easy. She was to drive, and I was to see to the driving. But the horse was not faced toward Boston. Oh, what an accident! We left them at the Pringles', with Solomon John. That was just what we couldn't. We kept on and on, till we met a man with a black hand-bag—black leather I should say. He set it on a stone. I told him I hadn't time to read so much. He said that was no matter, few did, and it wasn't much worth it—they bought books for the look of the thing. I hope, Elizabeth Eliza, you had nothing to do with that man.

Did you buy his book? I never got the diploma myself. I came near it. I think there was partiality about the promotions. I studied well enough, but, when I came to say off my lesson, I couldn't think what it was. Yet I could have answered some of the other girls' questions. You all know it. You remember, Amanda,—the name is rather long. Some of them were boys. I guess the rest ran away, or jumped into boats. Now I can say it.

I don't know what has happened to it. THE day began early. A compact had been made with the little boys the evening before. They were to be allowed to usher in the glorious day by the blowing of horns exactly at sunrise. But they were to blow them for precisely five minutes only, and no sound of the horns should be heard afterward till the family were downstairs.

It was thought that a peace might thus be bought by a short, though crowded, period of noise. Even before the morning, at half-past three o'clock, a terrible blast of the horns aroused the whole family. Peterkin clasped her hands to her head and exclaimed: And the number of the horns was most remarkable! It was as though every cow in the place had arisen and was blowing through both her own horns! How many have we? Peterkin, going over their names one by one mechanically, thinking he would do it, as he might count imaginary sheep jumping over a fence, to put himself to sleep.

And how unexpectedly long the five minutes seemed! Elizabeth Eliza was to take out her watch and give the signal for the end of the five minutes, and the ceasing of the horns. Why did not the signal come? Why did not Elizabeth Eliza stop them? And certainly it was long before sunrise; there was no dawn to be seen! Peterkin, hastening to the door to inquire into the state of affairs. Amanda, by mistake, had waked up the little boys an hour too early. And by another mistake the little boys had invited three or four of their friends to spend the night with them.

Peterkin had given them permission to have the boys for the whole day, and they understood the day as beginning when they went to bed the night before. This accounted for the number of horns. It would have been impossible to hear any explanation; but the five minutes were over, and the horns had ceased, and there remained only the noise of a singular leaping of feet, explained perhaps by a possible pillow-fight, that kept the family below partially awake until the bells and cannon made known the dawning of the glorious day,—the sunrise, or "the rising of the sons," as Mr.

Peterkin jocosely called it when they heard the little boys and their friends clattering down the stairs to begin the outside festivities. They were bound first for the swamp, for Elizabeth Eliza, at the suggestion of the lady from Philadelphia, had advised them to hang some flags around the pillars of the piazza. Now the little boys knew of a place in the swamp where they had been in the habit of digging for "flag-root," and where they might find plenty of flag flowers. They did bring away all they could, but they were a little out of bloom.

The boys were in the midst of nailing up all they had on the pillars of the piazza when the procession of the Antiques and Horribles passed along. As the procession saw the festive arrangements on the piazza, and the crowd of boys, who cheered them loudly, it stopped to salute the house with some especial strains of greeting. They were directly under her windows! In a few moments of quiet, during the boys' absence from the house on their visit to the swamp, she had been trying to find out whether she had a sick-headache, or whether it was all the noise, and she was just deciding it was the sick headache, but was falling into a light slumber, when the fresh noise outside began.

There were the imitations of the crowing of cocks, and braying of donkeys, and the sound of horns, encored and increased by the cheers of the boys. Then began the torpedoes, and the Antiques and Horribles had Chinese crackers also. And, in despair of sleep, the family came down to breakfast. Peterkin had always been much afraid of fire-works, and had never allowed the boys to bring gunpowder into the house. She was even afraid of torpedoes; they looked so much like sugar-plums she was sure some the children would swallow them, and explode before anybody knew it.

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She was very timid about other things. She was not sure even about pea-nuts. Everybody exclaimed over this: Peterkin declared she had been very much alarmed at the Centennial Exhibition, and in the crowded corners of the streets in Boston, at the pea-nut stands, where they had machines to roast the pea-nuts. She did not think it was safe. They might go off any time, in the midst of a crowd of people, too! Peterkin thought there actually was no danger, and he should be sorry to give up the pea-nut.

He thought it an American institution, something really belonging to the Fourth of July. He even confessed to a quiet pleasure in crushing the empty shells with his feet on the sidewalks as he went along the streets. Agamemnon thought it a simple joy. In consideration, however, of the fact that they had had no real celebration of the Fourth the last year, Mrs. Peterkin had consented to give over the day, this year, to the amusement of the family as a Centennial celebration. She would prepare herself for a terrible noise,—only she did not want any gunpowder brought into the house. The little boys had begun by firing some torpedoes a few days beforehand, that their mother might be used to the sound, and had selected their horns some weeks before.

Solomon John had been very busy in inventing some fireworks. Peterkin objected to the use of gunpowder, he found out from the dictionary what the different parts of gunpowder are,—saltpetre, charcoal, and sulphur. Charcoal, he discovered, they had in the wood-house; saltpetre they would find in the cellar, in the beef barrel; and sulphur they could buy at the apothecary's.

He explained to his mother that these materials had never yet exploded in the house, and she was quieted. Agamemnon, meanwhile, remembered a recipe he had read somewhere for making a "fulminating paste" of iron-filings and powder of brimstone. He had written it down on a piece of paper in his pocket-book. But the iron filings must be finely powdered. This they began upon a day or two before, and the very afternoon before laid out some of the paste on the piazza.

Pin-wheels and rockets were contributed by Mr. Peterkin for the evening. According to a programme drawn up by Agamemnon and Solomon John, the reading of the Declaration of Independence was to take place in the morning, on the piazza, under the flags. The Bromwicks brought over their flag to hang over the door. Elizabeth Eliza said she could say one line, if they each could add as much. But it proved they all knew the same line that she did, as they began: Some of the party decided that "one people" was a good place to stop, and the little boys sent off some fresh torpedoes in honor of the people.

He invited the assembled party to stay until sunset, and meanwhile he would find a copy, and torpedoes were to be saved to be fired off at the close of every sentence. And now the noon bells rang and the noon bells ceased. Peterkin wanted to ask everybody to dinner. She should have some cold beef. She had let Amanda go, because it was the Fourth, and everybody ought to be free that one day; so she could not have much of a dinner.

But when she went to cut her beef she found Solomon had taken it to soak, on account of the saltpetre, for the fireworks! Well, they had a pig; so she took a ham, and the boys had bought tamarinds and buns and a cocoa-nut. So the company stayed on, and when the Antiques and Horribles passed again they were treated to pea-nuts and lemonade. They sung patriotic songs, they told stories, they fired torpedoes, they frightened the cats with them. It was a warm afternoon; the red poppies were out wide, and the hot sun poured down on the alley-ways in the garden.

There was a seething sound of a hot day in the buzzing of insects, in the steaming heat that came up from the ground. Some neighboring boys were firing a toy cannon. Every time it went off Mrs. Peterkin started, and looked to see if one of the little boys was gone. Peterkin had set out to find a copy of the "Declaration. She had not a moment to decide about her headache. She asked Ann Maria if she were not anxious about the fireworks, and if rockets were not dangerous. They went up, but you were never sure where they came down.

And then came a fresh tumult! All the fire-engines in town rushed toward them, clanging with bells, men and boys yelling! They were out for a practice and for a Fourth-of-July show. Peterkin thought the house was on fire, and so did some of the guests. There was great rushing hither and thither.

Some thought they would better go home; some thought they would better stay. Peterkin hastened into the house to save herself, or see what she could save. Elizabeth Eliza followed her, first proceeding to collect all the pokers and tongs she could find, because they could be thrown out of the window without breaking. She had read of people who had flung looking-glasses out of the window by mistake, in the excitement of the house being on fire, and had carried the pokers and tongs carefully into the garden.

There was nothing like being prepared. She had always determined to do the reverse. So with calmness she told Solomon John to take down the looking-glasses. But she met with a difficulty,—there were no pokers and tongs, as they did not use them. They had no open fires; Mrs. Peterkin had been afraid of them.

The Peterkin Papers

So Elizabeth Eliza took all the pots and kettles up to the upper windows, ready to be thrown out. But where was Mrs. Solomon John found she had fled to the attic in terror. He persuaded her to come down, assuring her it was the most unsafe place; but she insisted upon stopping to collect some bags of old pieces, that nobody would think of saving from the general wreck, she said, unless she did.

As they came downstairs they heard the voices of all the company declaring there was no fire; the danger was past. It was long before Mrs. Peterkin could believe it. They told her the fire company was only out for show, and to celebrate the Fourth of July. She thought it already too much celebrated. Elizabeth Eliza's kettles and pans had come down through the windows with a crash, that had only added to the festivities, the little boys thought.

Peterkin had been roaming about all this time in search of a copy of the Declaration of Independence. The public library was shut, and he had to go from house to house; but now, as the sunset bells and cannon began, he returned with a copy, and read it, to the pealing of the bells and sounding of the cannon. Torpedoes and crackers were fired at every pause. Some sweet-marjoram pots, tin cans filled with crackers which were lighted, went off with great explosions. At the most exciting moment, near the close of the reading, Agamemnon, with an expression of terror, pulled Solomon John aside.

It was in the preface to 'Woodstock,' and I have been round to borrow the book to read the directions over again, because I was afraid about the 'paste' going off. It contained chlorate of potash and sulphur mixed. A friend had told him of the composition. The more thicknesses of paper you put round it the louder it would go off.

You must pound it with a hammer. Solomon John felt it must be perfectly safe, as his mother had taken potash for a medicine. He still held the parcel as he read from Agamemnon's book: Agamemnon, jumping upon the piazza at the same moment, trod upon the paper parcel, which exploded at once with the shock, and he fell to the ground, while at the same moment the paste "fulminated" into a blue flame directly in front of Mrs.

It was a moment of great confusion. There were cries and screams. The bells were still ringing, the cannon firing, and Mr. Peterkin had just reached the closing words: Peterkin at length ventured to say, finding herself in a lilac-bush by the side of the piazza. She scarcely dared to open her eyes to see the scattered limbs about her. It was so with all. Even Ann Maria Bromwick clutched a pillar of the piazza, with closed eyes.

Peterkin said, calmly, "Is anybody killed? Nobody could tell whether it was because everybody was killed, or because they were too wounded to answer. It was a great while before Mrs. Peterkin ventured to move. But the little boys soon shouted with joy, and cheered the success of Solomon John's fireworks, and hoped he had some more.

One of them had his face blackened by an unexpected cracker, and Elizabeth Eliza's muslin dress was burned here and there. But no one was hurt; no one had lost any limbs, though Mrs. Peterkin was sure she had seen some flying in the air. Nobody could understand how, as she had kept her eyes firmly shut. No greater accident had occurred than the singeing of the tip of Solomon John's nose. But there was an unpleasant and terrible odor from the "fulminating paste. Peterkin was extricated from the lilac-bush. No one knew how she got there. Indeed, the thundering noise had stunned everybody.

It had roused the neighborhood even more than before. Answering explosions came on every side, and, though the sunset light had not faded away, the little boys hastened to send off rockets under cover of the confusion. Solomon John's other fireworks would not go. But all felt he had done enough. Peterkin retreated into the parlor, deciding she really did have a headache. At times she had to come out when a rocket went off, to see if it was one of the little boys. She was exhausted by the adventures of the day, and almost thought it could not have been worse if the boys had been allowed gunpowder.

The distracted lady was thankful there was likely to be but one Centennial Fourth in her lifetime, and declared she should never more keep anything in the house as dangerous as saltpetred beef, and she should never venture to take another spoonful of potash. THERE was some doubt about the weather.

Solomon John looked at the "Probabilities;" there were to be "areas" of rain in the New England States. Agamemnon thought if they could only know where the areas of rain were to be they might go to the others. Peterkin proposed walking round the house in a procession, to examine the sky. As they returned they met Ann Maria Bromwick, who was to go, much surprised not to find them ready. Peterkin were to go in the carryall, and take up the lady from Philadelphia, and Ann Maria, with the rest, was to follow in a wagon, and to stop for the daughters of the lady from Philadelphia.

The wagon arrived, and so Mr. Peterkin had the horse put into the carryall. A basket had been kept on the back piazza for some days, where anybody could put anything that would be needed for the picnic as soon as it was thought of. Agamemnon had already decided to take a thermometer; somebody was always complaining of being too hot or too cold at a picnic, and it would be a great convenience to see if she really were so.

He thought now he might take a barometer, as "Probabilities" was so uncertain. Then, if it went down in a threatening way, they could all come back. The little boys had tied their kites to the basket. They had never tried them at home; it might be a good chance on the hills. Solomon John had put in some fishing-poles; Elizabeth Eliza, a book of poetry.

Peterkin did not like sitting on the ground, and proposed taking two chairs, one for himself and one for anybody else. The little boys were perfectly happy; they jumped in and out of the wagon a dozen times, with new india-rubber boots, bought for the occasion. Before they started, Mrs. Peterkin began to think she had already had enough of the picnic, what with going and coming, and trying to remember things.

So many mistakes were made. The things that were to go in the wagon were put in the carryall, and the things in the carryall had to be taken out for the wagon! Elizabeth Eliza forgot her water-proof, and had to go back for her veil, and Mr. Peterkin came near forgetting his umbrella. Peterkin sat on the piazza and tried to think.

She felt as if she must have forgotten something; she knew she must. Why could not she think of it now, before it was too late? It seems hard any day to think what to have for dinner, but how much easier now it would be to stay at home quietly and order the dinner,—and there was the butcher's cart!

But now they must think of everything. At last she was put into the carryall, and Mr. Peterkin in front to drive. Twice they started, and twice they found something was left behind,—the loaf of fresh brown bread on the back piazza, and a basket of sandwiches on the front porch.

And just as the wagon was leaving, the little boys shrieked, "The basket of things was left behind! Agamemnon went back into the house, to see if anything else were left. He looked into the closets; he shut the front door, and was so busy that he forgot to get into the wagon himself.

It started off and went down the street without him! He was wondering what he should do if he were left behind why had they not thought to arrange a telegraph wire to the back wheel of the wagon, so that he might have sent a message in such a case! They joined the rest of the party at Tatham Corners, where they were all to meet and consult where they were to go.

Peterkin called to Agamemnon, as soon as he appeared. She had been holding the barometer and the thermometer, and they waggled so that it troubled her. It was hard keeping the thermometer out of the sun, which would make it so warm. It really took away her pleasure, holding the things. Agamemnon decided to get into the carryall, on the seat with his father, and take the barometer and thermometer.

The consultation went on. Should they go to Cherry Swamp, or Lonetown Hill? You had the view if you went to Lonetown Hill, but maybe the drive to Cherry Swamp was prettier. Somebody suggested asking the lady from Philadelphia, as the picnic was got up for her. But where was she? Peterkin, "I forgot to stop for her! It seemed the horse had twitched his head in a threatening manner as they passed the house, and Mr.

Peterkin had forgotten to stop, and Mrs. Peterkin had been so busy managing the thermometers that she had not noticed, and the wagon had followed on behind. Peterkin was in despair.

The Peterkin Papers by Lucretia P. Hale

She knew they had forgotten something! She did not like to have Mr. Peterkin make a short turn, and it was getting late, and what would the lady from Philadelphia think of it, and had they not better give it all up? But everybody said "No! Peterkin said he could make a wide turn round the Lovejoy barn. So they made the turn, and took up the lady from Philadelphia, and the wagon followed behind and took up their daughters, for there was a driver in the wagon besides Solomon John.

Ann Maria Bromwick said it was so late by this time, they might as well stop and have the picnic on the Common! But the question was put again, Where should they go? The lady from Philadelphia decided for Strawberry Nook—it sounded inviting. There were no strawberries, and there was no nook, it was said, but there was a good place to tie the horses. Peterkin was feeling a little nervous, for she did not know what the lady from Philadelphia would think of their having forgotten her, and the more she tried to explain it, the worse it seemed to make it.

She supposed they never did such things in Philadelphia; she knew they had invited all the world to a party, but she was sure she would never want to invite anybody again. There was no fun about it till it was all over. Such a mistake—to have a party for a person, and then go without her; but she knew they would forget something! She wished they had not called it their picnic. There was another bother! Peterkin didn't know the way; and here he was leading all the party, and a long row of carriages following.


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We thought we must have missed some small detail, because surely no family could be quite so foolish. Luckily for readers, the Peterkins really are extremely silly, which makes for a very entertaining read. The early chapters provided a lot of funny tales. My kids retell the stories and have taken to asking things like "Oh my gosh, can you imagine what the Peterkins would do now? I subtracted a star because there are some sections of the book that didn't age quite as well.

We didn't get much out of the section about the Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia; it was probably funnier at the time. There is also some commentary about skin color during their Egyptian trip that made us uncomfortable, but the comments are understandable in historical context. Even though we didn't find every story equally enjoyable, there are some real gems in the book.

I am so glad to have read about the Peterkins' attempts to grow wise, the accommodations made for a too-tall Christmas tree, and their extraordinarily unique response to a heavy snow. These stories alone would be worth the price of the book. This book is a good book for children that are just in between the reading of juvenile fiction and the harder adult time novels.

The chapters are self contained, meaning that each new chapter is a different topic than the one before, however it is all about the same family and the characters stick with the reader in a delightful playful manner. One person found this helpful. I grew up on some of these stories, and my kids did too -- as soon as I realized that there were many of these stories written for a Boston newspaper in the 19th century and they had been collected into a book. Take these stories in small doses. The silly pickles that the Perterkins get themselves into can seem repetitious after a while.

This has been a great read with school-aged kids! A little out-of-date vocabulary, but a fun look at early 20th century life with a humorous twist. This Kindle edition is faulty. There are missing sections and sometimes the first words of a story are not there. This needs to be digitized. The first part of the first story is not even there. That is a shame because the "The Peterkin Papers" are wonderful little stories that small children can really engage in.

This is one of my favorite books from my childhood years. Now I read about this silly Peterkin Family to my granddaughter and she loves them, too. A favorite from the time I was in 3rd grade when my teacher read a chapter a day. This family is hilarious. I just had to find the book from my childhood days and I am not at all disappointed. A very funny and fun stories to read. This book is my favorite book. The Peterkin Papers is so funny it will knock your socks off! See all 33 reviews.