



Produced by David Reed





THE PETERKIN PAPERS

By Lucretia P. Hale


Mrs. Peterkin Puts Salt into Her Coffee.

Dedicated

To Meggie (The Daughter of The Lady From Philadelphia)

To Whom These Stories Were First Told




Preface to The Second Edition of The Peterkin Papers

THE first of these stories was accepted by Mr. Howard M. Ticknor for
the "Young Folks." They were afterwards continued in numbers of the "St.
Nicholas."

A second edition is now printed, containing a new paper, which has never
before been published, "The Peterkins at the Farm."

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 Philadelphia. A little uncertain of whether she might
happen to be at Philadelphia, they determined to write and ask her.

Solomon John suggested a postal-card. Everybody reads a postal, and
everybody would read it as it came along, and see its importance, and
help it on. If the lady from Philadelphia were away, her family and all
her servants would read it, and send it after her, for answer.

Elizabeth Eliza thought the postal a bright idea. It would not take so
long to write as a letter, and would not be so expensive. But could they
get the whole subject on a postal?

Mr. Peterkin believed there could be no difficulty, there was but one
question:--

Shall the adventures of the Peterkin family be published?

This was decided upon, and there was room for each of the family to
sign, the little boys contenting themselves with rough sketches of their
india-rubber boots.

Mr. Peterkin, Agamemnon, and Solomon John took the postal-card to the
post-office early one morning, and by the afternoon of that very day,
and all the next day, and for many days, came streaming in answers on
postals and on letters. Their card had been addressed to the lady from
Philadelphia, with the number of her street. But it must have been read
by their neighbors in their own town post-office before leaving; it must
have been read along its way: for by each mail came piles of postals and
letters from town after town, in answer to the question, and all in the
same tone: "Yes, yes; publish the adventures of the Peterkin family."

"Publish them, of course."

And in time came the answer of the lady from Philadelphia:--"Yes, of
course; publish them."

This is why they were published.




THE LADY WHO PUT SALT IN HER COFFEE.

THIS was Mrs. Peterkin. It was a mistake. She had poured out a delicious
cup of coffee, and, just as she was helping herself to cream, she found
she had put in salt instead of sugar! It tasted bad. What should she do?
Of course she couldn't drink the coffee; so she called in the family,
for she was sitting at a late breakfast all alone. The family came in;
they all tasted, and looked, and wondered what should be done, and all
sat down to think.

At last Agamemnon, who had been to college, said, "Why don't we go over
and ask the advice of the chemist?" (For the chemist lived over the
way, and was a very wise man.) Mrs. Peterkin said, "Yes," and Mr.
Peterkin said, "Very well," and all the children said they would go too.
So the little boys put on their india-rubber boots, and over they went.

Now the chemist was just trying to find out something which should turn
everything it touched into gold; and he had a large glass bottle into
which he put all kinds of gold and silver, and many other valuable
things, and melted them all up over the fire, till he had almost found
what he wanted. He could turn things into almost gold. But just now he
had used up all the gold that he had round the house, and gold was
high. He had used up his wife's gold thimble and his great-grandfather's
gold-bowed spectacles; and he had melted up the gold head of his
great-great-grandfather's cane; and, just as the Peterkin family came
in, he was down on his knees before his wife, asking her to let him have
her wedding-ring to melt up with an the rest, because this time he knew
he should succeed, and should be able to turn everything into gold; and
then she could have a new wedding-ring of diamonds, all set in emeralds
and rubies and topazes, and all the furniture could be turned into the
finest of gold.

Now his wife was just consenting when the Peterkin family burst in.
You can imagine how mad the chemist was! He came near throwing his
crucible--that was the name of his melting-pot--at their heads. But he
didn't. He listened as calmly as he could to the story of how Mrs.
Peterkin had put salt in her coffee.

At first he said he couldn't do anything about it; but when Agamemnon
said they would pay in gold if he would only go, he packed up his
bottles in a leather case, and went back with them all.

First he looked at the coffee, and then stirred it. Then he put in a
little chlorate of potassium, and the family tried it all round; but it
tasted no better. Then he stirred in a little bichlorate of magnesia.
But Mrs. Peterkin didn't like that. Then he added some tartaric acid
and some hypersulphate of lime. But no; it was no better. "I have it!"
exclaimed the chemist,--"a little ammonia is just the thing!" No, it
wasn't the thing at all.

Then he tried, each in turn, some oxalic, cyanic, acetic, phosphoric,
chloric, hyperchloric, sulphuric, boracic, silicic, nitric, formic,
nitrous nitric, and carbonic acids. Mrs. Peterkin tasted each, and said
the flavor was pleasant, but not precisely that of coffee. So then he
tried a little calcium, aluminum, barium, and strontium, a little clear
bitumen, and a half of a third of a sixteenth of a grain of arsenic.
This gave rather a pretty color; but still Mrs.

Peterkin ungratefully said it tasted of anything but coffee. The chemist
was not discouraged. He put in a little belladonna and atropine, some
granulated hydrogen, some potash, and a very little antimony, finishing
off with a little pure carbon. But still Mrs. Peterkin was not
satisfied.

The chemist said that all he had done ought to have taken out the
salt. The theory remained the same, although the experiment had failed.
Perhaps a little starch would have some effect. If not, that was all
the time he could give. He should like to be paid, and go. They were all
much obliged to him, and willing to give him $1.37 1/2 in gold. Gold
was now 2.69 3/4, so Mr. Peterkin found in the newspaper. This gave
Agamemnon a pretty little sum. He sat himself down to do it. But there
was the coffee! All sat and thought awhile, till Elizabeth Eliza said,
"Why don't we go to the herb-woman?" Elizabeth Eliza was the only
daughter. She was named after her two aunts,--Elizabeth, from the sister
of her father; Eliza, from her mother's sister. Now, the herb-woman was
an old woman who came round to sell herbs, and knew a great deal. They
all shouted with joy at the idea of asking her, and Solomon John and
the younger children agreed to go and find her too. The herb-woman
lived down at the very end of the street; so the boys put on their
india-rubber boots again, and they set off. It was a long walk through
the village, but they came at last to the herb-woman's house, at the
foot of a high hill. They went through her little garden. Here she had
marigolds and hollyhocks, and old maids and tall sunflowers, and all
kinds of sweet-smelling herbs, so that the air was full of tansy-tea
and elder-blow. Over the porch grew a hop-vine, and a brandy-cherry
tree shaded the door, and a luxuriant cranberry-vine flung its delicious
fruit across the window. They went into a small parlor, which smelt very
spicy. All around hung little bags full of catnip, and peppermint, and
all kinds of herbs; and dried stalks hung from the ceiling; and on the
shelves were jars of rhubarb, senna, manna, and the like.

But there was no little old woman. She had gone up into the woods to
get some more wild herbs, so they all thought they would follow
her,--Elizabeth Eliza, Solomon John, and the little boys. They had to
climb up over high rocks, and in among huckleberry-bushes and black
berry-vines. But the little boys had their india-rubber boots. At last
they discovered the little old woman. They knew her by her hat. It was
steeple-crowned, without any vane. They saw her digging with her trowel
round a sassafras bush. They told her their story,---how their mother had
put salt in her coffee, and how the chemist had made it worse instead
of better, and how their mother couldn't drink it, and wouldn't she
come and see what she could do? And she said she would, and took up her
little old apron, with pockets all round, all filled with everlasting
and pennyroyal, and went back to her house.

There she stopped, and stuffed her huge pockets with some of all the
kinds of herbs. She took some tansy and peppermint, and caraway-seed
and dill, spearmint and cloves, pennyroyal and sweet marjoram, basil and
rosemary, wild thyme and some of the other time,---such as you have in
clocks,--sappermint and oppermint, catnip, valerian, and hop; indeed,
there isn't a kind of herb you can think of that the little old woman
didn't have done up in her little paper bags,