<SPAN name="startofbook"></SPAN>
<p class="h1"><SPAN name="titlepage" id="titlepage"></SPAN>LITTLE WOMEN</p>
<p class="cnobmargin">BY</p>
<p class="h2a">LOUISA M. ALCOTT</p>
<p class="h2"><SPAN name="I" id="I"></SPAN>I.</p>
<p class="h2a">PLAYING PILGRIMS.</p>
<p class="indent">"<span class="smcap">Christmas</span> won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled
Jo, lying on the rug.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's so dreadful to be poor!" sighed Meg, looking down at her
old dress.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't think it's fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty
things, and other girls nothing at all," added little Amy, with an
injured sniff.</p>
<p class="indent">"We've got father and mother and each other," said Beth contentedly,
from her corner.</p>
<p class="indent">The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the
cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly,—</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 2]</span>
"We haven't got father, and shall not have him for a long time."
She didn't say "perhaps never," but each silently added it, thinking
of father far away, where the fighting was.</p>
<p class="indent">Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone,—</p>
<p class="indent">"You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents
this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for every
one; and she thinks we ought not to spend money for pleasure, when
our men are suffering so in the army. We can't do much, but we can
make our little sacrifices, and ought to do it gladly. But I am afraid
I don't;" and Meg shook her head, as she thought regretfully of all
the pretty things she wanted.</p>
<p class="indent">"But I don't think the little we should spend would do any good.
We've each got a dollar, and the army wouldn't be much helped by
our giving that. I agree not to expect anything from mother or you,
but I do want to buy Undine and Sintram for myself; I've wanted it
<i>so</i> long," said Jo, who was a bookworm.</p>
<p class="indent">"I planned to spend mine in new music," said Beth, with a little
sigh, which no one heard but the hearth-brush and kettle-holder.</p>
<p class="indent">"I shall get a nice box of Faber's drawing-pencils; I really need
them," said Amy decidedly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Mother didn't say anything about our money, and she won't wish
us to give up everything. Let's each buy what we want, and have a
little fun; I'm sure we work hard enough to earn it," cried Jo, examining
the heels of her shoes in a gentlemanly manner.</p>
<p class="indent">"I know <i>I</i> do,—teaching those tiresome children nearly all day,
when I'm longing to enjoy myself at home," began Meg, in the complaining
tone again.</p>
<p class="indent">"You don't have half such a hard time as I do," said Jo.
"How would you like to be shut up for hours with a nervous, fussy
old lady, who keeps you trotting, is never satisfied, and worries you
till you're ready to fly out of the window or cry?"</p>
<p class="indent">"It's naughty to fret; but I do think washing dishes and keeping
things tidy is the worst work in the world. It makes me cross; and
my hands get so stiff, I can't practise well at all;" and Beth looked
at her rough hands with a sigh that any one could hear that time.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't believe any of you suffer as I do," cried Amy; "for you
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 3]</span>
don't have to go to school with impertinent girls, who plague you if
you don't know your lessons, and laugh at your dresses, and label
your father if he isn't rich, and insult you when your nose isn't
nice."</p>
<p class="indent">"If you mean <i>libel</i>, I'd say so, and not talk about <i>labels</i>, as if papa
was a pickle-bottle," advised Jo, laughing.</p>
<p class="indent">"I know what I mean, and you needn't be <i>statirical</i> about it. It's
proper to use good words, and improve your <i>vocabilary</i>," returned
Amy, with dignity.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't peck at one another, children. Don't you wish we had the
money papa lost when we were little, Jo? Dear me! how happy and
good we'd be, if we had no worries!" said Meg, who could remember
better times.</p>
<p class="indent">"You said the other day, you thought we were a deal happier than
the King children, for they were fighting and fretting all the time, in
spite of their money."</p>
<p class="indent">"So I did, Beth. Well, I think we are; for, though we do have to
work, we make fun for ourselves, and are a pretty jolly set, as Jo would
say."</p>
<p class="indent">"Jo does use such slang words!" observed Amy, with a reproving
look at the long figure stretched on the rug. Jo immediately sat up,
put her hands in her pockets, and began to whistle.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't, Jo; it's so boyish!"</p>
<p class="indent">"That's why I do it."</p>
<p class="indent">"I detest rude, unlady-like girls!"</p>
<p class="indent">"I hate affected, niminy-piminy chits!"</p>
<p class="indent">"'Birds in their little nests agree,'" sang Beth, the peace-maker,
with such a funny face that both sharp voices softened to a laugh, and
the "pecking" ended for that time.</p>
<p class="indent">"Really, girls, you are both to be blamed," said Meg, beginning to
lecture in her elder-sisterly fashion. "You are old enough to leave
off boyish tricks, and to behave better, Josephine. It didn't matter
so much when you were a little girl; but now you are so tall, and turn
up your hair, you should remember that you are a young lady."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm not! and if turning up my hair makes me one, I'll wear it
in two tails till I'm twenty," cried Jo, pulling off her net, and shaking
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 4]</span>
down a chestnut mane. "I hate to think I've got to grow up, and be
Miss March, and wear long gowns, and look as prim as a China-aster!
It's bad enough to be a girl, anyway, when I like boys' games and
work and manners! I can't get over my disappointment in not being
a boy; and it's worse than ever now, for I'm dying to go and fight
with papa, and I can only stay at home and knit, like a poky old
woman!" And Jo shook the blue army-sock till the needles rattled
like castanets, and her ball bounded across the room.</p>
<p class="indent">"Poor Jo! It's too bad, but it can't be helped; so you must try
to be contented with making your name boyish, and playing brother
to us girls," said Beth, stroking the rough head at her knee with a
hand that all the dish-washing and dusting in the world could not
make ungentle in its touch.</p>
<p class="indent">"As for you, Amy," continued Meg, "you are altogether too particular
and prim. Your airs are funny now; but you'll grow up an
affected little goose, if you don't take care. I like your nice manners
and refined ways of speaking, when you don't try to be elegant; but
your absurd words are as bad as Jo's slang."</p>
<p class="indent">"If Jo is a tom-boy and Amy a goose, what am I, please?" asked
Beth, ready to share the lecture.</p>
<p class="indent">"You're a dear, and nothing else," answered Meg warmly; and
no one contradicted her, for the "Mouse" was the pet of the
family.</p>
<p class="indent">As young readers like to know "how people look," we will take this
moment to give them a little sketch of the four sisters, who sat knitting
away in the twilight, while the December snow fell quietly without,
and the fire crackled cheerfully within. It was a comfortable old
room, though the carpet was faded and the furniture very plain; for a
good picture or two hung on the walls, books filled the recesses,
chrysanthemums and Christmas roses bloomed in the windows, and
a pleasant atmosphere of home-peace pervaded it.</p>
<p class="indent">Margaret, the eldest of the four, was sixteen, and very pretty, being
plump and fair, with large eyes, plenty of soft, brown hair, a sweet
mouth, and white hands, of which she was rather vain. Fifteen-year-old
Jo was very tall, thin, and brown, and reminded one of a colt; for
she never seemed to know what to do with her long limbs, which were
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 5]</span>
very much in her way. She had a decided mouth, a comical nose,
and sharp, gray eyes, which appeared to see everything, and were by
turns fierce, funny, or thoughtful. Her long, thick hair was her one
beauty; but it was usually bundled into a net, to be out of her way.
Round shoulders had Jo, big hands and feet, a fly-away look to her
clothes, and the uncomfortable appearance of a girl who was rapidly
shooting up into a woman, and didn't like it. Elizabeth—or Beth,
as every one called her—was a rosy, smooth-haired, bright-eyed girl
of thirteen, with a shy manner, a timid voice, and a peaceful expression,
which was seldom disturbed. Her father called her "Little
Tranquillity," and the name suited her excellently; for she seemed to
live in a happy world of her own, only venturing out to meet the few
whom she trusted and loved. Amy, though the youngest, was a most
important person,—in her own opinion at least. A regular snow-maiden,
with blue eyes, and yellow hair, curling on her shoulders, pale
and slender, and always carrying herself like a young lady mindful of
her manners. What the characters of the four sisters were we will
leave to be found out.</p>
<p class="indent">The clock struck six; and,
having swept up the hearth,
Beth put a pair of slippers
down to warm. Somehow the
sight of the old shoes had a
good effect upon the girls; for
mother was coming, and every
one brightened to welcome
her. Meg stopped lecturing,
and lighted the lamp, Amy
got out of the easy-chair
without being asked, and Jo
forgot how tired she was as
she sat up to hold the slippers
nearer to the blaze.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="b008.png" id="b008.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b008.png" alt="Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm" title="Beth put a pair of slippers down to warm" /></div>
<p class="indent">"They are quite worn out;
Marmee must have a new
pair."</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 6]</span>
"I thought I'd get her some with my dollar," said Beth.</p>
<p class="indent">"No, I shall!" cried Amy.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm the oldest," began Meg, but Jo cut in with a decided—</p>
<p class="indent">"I'm the man of the family now papa is away, and <i>I</i> shall provide
the slippers, for he told me to take special care of mother while he
was gone."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Beth; "let's each get her something
for Christmas, and not get anything for ourselves."</p>
<p class="indent">"That's like you, dear! What will we get?" exclaimed Jo.</p>
<p class="indent">Every one thought soberly for a minute; then Meg announced, as
if the idea was suggested by the sight of her own pretty hands, "I
shall give her a nice pair of gloves."</p>
<p class="indent">"Army shoes, best to be had," cried Jo.</p>
<p class="indent">"Some handkerchiefs, all hemmed," said Beth.</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll get a little bottle of cologne; she likes it, and it won't cost
much, so I'll have some left to buy my pencils," added Amy.</p>
<p class="indent">"How will we give the things?" asked Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"Put them on the table, and bring her in and see her open
the bundles. Don't you remember how we used to do on our
birthdays?" answered Jo.</p>
<div class="figleft"> <SPAN name="b009.png" id="b009.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b009.png" alt="I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair" title="I used to be so frightened when it was my turn to sit in the big chair" /></div>
<p class="indent">"I used to be <i>so</i> frightened
when it was my turn to sit in
the big chair with the crown
on, and see you all come
marching round to give the
presents, with a kiss. I liked
the things and the kisses, but
it was dreadful to have you
sit looking at me while I
opened the bundles," said
Beth, who was toasting her face and the bread for tea, at the same time.</p>
<p class="indent">"Let Marmee think we are getting things for ourselves, and then
surprise her. We must go shopping to-morrow afternoon, Meg;
there is so much to do about the play for Christmas night," said Jo,
marching up and down, with her hands behind her back and her nose
in the air.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 7]</span>
"I don't mean to act any more after this time; I'm getting too
old for such things," observed Meg, who was as much a child as ever
about "dressing-up" frolics.</p>
<p class="indent">"You won't stop, I know, as long as you can trail round in a white
gown with your hair down, and wear gold-paper jewelry. You are
the best actress we've got, and there'll be an end of everything if
you quit the boards," said Jo. "We ought to rehearse to-night.
Come here, Amy, and do the fainting scene, for you are as stiff as a
poker in that."</p>
<p class="indent">"I can't help it; I never saw any one faint, and I don't choose to
make myself all black and blue, tumbling flat as you do. If I can go
down easily, I'll drop; if I can't, I shall fall into a chair and be
graceful; I don't care if Hugo does come at me with a pistol,"
returned Amy, who was not gifted with dramatic power, but was
chosen because she was small enough to be borne out shrieking by
the villain of the piece.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="b010.png" id="b010.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b010.png" alt="Do it this way, clasp your hands so" title="Do it this way, clasp your hands so" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Do it this way; clasp your
hands so, and stagger across
the room, crying frantically,
'Roderigo! save me! save
me!'" and away went Jo,
with a melodramatic scream
which was truly thrilling.</p>
<p class="indent">Amy followed, but she
poked her hands out stiffly
before her, and jerked herself
along as if she went by
machinery; and her "Ow!"
was more suggestive of pins
being run into her than of fear and anguish. Jo gave a despairing
groan, and Meg laughed outright, while Beth let her bread burn
as she watched the fun, with interest.</p>
<p class="indent">"It's no use! Do the best you can when the time comes, and if
the audience laugh, don't blame me. Come on, Meg."</p>
<p class="indent">Then things went smoothly, for Don Pedro defied the world in a
speech of two pages without a single break; Hagar, the witch, chanted
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 8]</span>
an awful incantation over her kettleful of simmering toads, with weird
effect; Roderigo rent his chains asunder manfully, and Hugo died in
agonies of remorse and arsenic, with a wild "Ha! ha!"</p>
<p class="indent">"It's the best we've had yet," said Meg, as the dead villain sat
up and rubbed his elbows.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't see how you can write and act such splendid things, Jo.
You're a regular Shakespeare!" exclaimed Beth, who firmly believed
that her sisters were gifted with wonderful genius in all things.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not quite," replied Jo modestly. "I do think 'The Witch's
Curse, an Operatic Tragedy,' is rather a nice thing; but I'd like to
try Macbeth, if we only had a trap-door for Banquo. I always wanted
to do the killing part. 'Is that a dagger that I see before me?'"
muttered Jo, rolling her eyes and clutching at the air, as she had
seen a famous tragedian do.</p>
<p class="indent">"No, it's the toasting fork, with mother's shoe on it instead of the
bread. Beth's stage-struck!" cried Meg, and the rehearsal ended in
a general burst of laughter.</p>
<p class="indent">"Glad to find you so merry, my girls," said a cheery voice at the
door, and actors and audience turned to welcome a tall, motherly
lady, with a "can-I-help-you" look about her which was truly delightful.
She was not elegantly dressed, but a noble-looking woman, and
the girls thought the gray cloak and unfashionable bonnet covered the
most splendid mother in the world.</p>
<p class="indent">"Well, dearies, how have you got on to-day? There was so much
to do, getting the boxes ready to go to-morrow, that I didn't come
home to dinner. Has any one called, Beth? How is your cold,
Meg? Jo, you look tired to death. Come and kiss me, baby."</p>
<p class="indent">While making these maternal inquiries Mrs. March got her wet
things off, her warm slippers on, and sitting down in the easy-chair,
drew Amy to her lap, preparing to enjoy the happiest hour of her
busy day. The girls flew about, trying to make things comfortable,
each in her own way. Meg arranged the tea-table; Jo brought wood
and set chairs, dropping, overturning, and clattering everything she
touched; Beth trotted to and fro between parlor and kitchen, quiet
and busy; while Amy gave directions to every one, as she sat with
her hands folded.</p>
<p class="indent"><span class="pagenum">[Pg 9]</span>
As they gathered about the table, Mrs. March said, with a particularly
happy face, "I've got a treat for you after supper."</p>
<p class="indent">A quick, bright smile went round like a streak of sunshine. Beth
clapped her hands, regardless of the biscuit she held, and Jo tossed up
her napkin, crying, "A letter! a letter! Three cheers for father!"</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, a nice long letter. He is well, and thinks he shall get
through the cold season better than we feared. He sends all sorts of
loving wishes for Christmas, and an especial message to you girls,"
said Mrs. March, patting her pocket as if she had got a treasure
there.</p>
<p class="indent">"Hurry and get done! Don't stop to quirk your little finger, and
simper over your plate, Amy," cried Jo, choking in her tea, and
dropping her bread, butter side down, on the carpet, in her haste to
get at the treat.</p>
<p class="indent">Beth ate no more, but crept away, to sit in her shadowy corner
and brood over the delight to come, till the others were ready.</p>
<p class="indent">"I think it was so splendid in father to go as a chaplain when he
was too old to be drafted, and not strong enough for a soldier,"
said Meg warmly.</p>
<p class="indent">"Don't I wish I could go as a drummer, a <i>vivan</i>—what's its
name? or a nurse, so I could be near him and help him," exclaimed
Jo, with a groan.</p>
<p class="indent">"It must be very disagreeable to sleep in a tent, and eat all sorts
of bad-tasting things, and drink out of a tin mug," sighed Amy.</p>
<p class="indent">"When will he come home, Marmee?" asked Beth, with a little
quiver in her voice.</p>
<p class="indent">"Not for many months, dear, unless he is sick. He will stay and
do his work faithfully as long as he can, and we won't ask for him
back a minute sooner than he can be spared. Now come and hear
the letter."</p>
<p class="indent">They all drew to the fire, mother in the big chair with Beth at her
feet, Meg and Amy perched on either arm of the chair, and Jo leaning
on the back, where no one would see any sign of emotion if the
letter should happen to be touching.</p>
<p class="indent">Very few letters were written in those hard times that were not
touching, especially those which fathers sent home. In this one little
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 10]</span>
was said of the hardships
endured, the dangers faced,
or the homesickness conquered;
it was a cheerful,
hopeful letter, full of lively
descriptions of camp life,
marches, and military news;
and only at the end did the
writer's heart overflow with
fatherly love and longing for
the little girls at home.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="b011.png" id="b011.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b011.png" alt="It was a cheerful, hopeful letter" title="It was a cheerful, hopeful letter" /></div>
<p class="indent">"Give them all my dear
love and a kiss. Tell them
I think of them by day, pray
for them by night, and find
my best comfort in their
affection at all times. A year seems very long to wait before I see
them, but remind them that while we wait we may all work, so that
these hard days need not be wasted. I know they will remember
all I said to them, that they will be loving children to you, will do
their duty faithfully, fight their bosom enemies bravely, and conquer
themselves so beautifully, that when I come back to them I
may be fonder and prouder than ever of my little women."</p>
<p class="indent">Everybody sniffed when they came to that part; Jo wasn't ashamed
of the great tear that dropped off the end of her nose, and Amy never
minded the rumpling of her curls as she hid her face on her mother's
shoulder and sobbed out, "I <i>am</i> a selfish girl! but I'll truly try to be
better, so he mayn't be disappointed in me by and by."</p>
<p class="indent">"We all will!" cried Meg. "I think too much of my looks, and
hate to work, but won't any more, if I can help it."</p>
<p class="indent">"I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman,' and not
be rough and wild; but do my duty here instead of wanting to be
somewhere else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home
was a much harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.</p>
<p class="indent">Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army-sock,
and began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 11]</span>
the duty that lay nearest her, while she
resolved in her quiet little soul to be
all that father hoped to find her when
the year brought round the happy coming
home.</p>
<div class="figright"> <SPAN name="b012.png" id="b012.png"></SPAN>
<ANTIMG src="images/b012.png" alt="How you used to play Pilgrim's Progress" title="How you used to play Pilgrim's Progress" /></div>
<p class="indent">Mrs. March broke the silence that
followed Jo's words, by saying in her
cheery voice, "Do you remember how
you used to play Pilgrim's Progress
when you were little things? Nothing
delighted you more than to have me
tie my piece-bags on your backs for
burdens, give you hats and sticks and
rolls of paper, and let you travel through
the house from the cellar, which was the
City of Destruction, up, up, to the
house-top, where you had all the lovely
things you could collect to make a
Celestial City."</p>
<p class="indent">"What fun it was, especially going
by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and passing
through the Valley where the hobgoblins
were!" said Jo.</p>
<p class="indent">"I liked the place where the bundles
fell off and tumbled down stairs," said
Meg.</p>
<p class="indent">"My favorite part was when we came
out on the flat roof where our flowers
and arbors and pretty things were,
and all stood and sung for joy up there
in the sunshine," said Beth, smiling, as
if that pleasant moment had come back
to her.</p>
<p class="indent">"I don't remember much about it,
except that I was afraid of the cellar
and the dark entry, and always liked
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 12]</span>
the cake and milk we had up at the top. If I wasn't too old for
such things, I'd rather like to play it over again," said Amy, who began
to talk of renouncing childish things at the mature age of twelve.</p>
<p class="indent">"We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we
are playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are
here, our road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness
is the guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to
the peace which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims,
suppose you begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far
on you can get before father comes home."</p>
<p class="indent">"Really, mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was
a very literal young lady.</p>
<p class="indent">"Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth;
I rather think she hasn't got any," said her mother.</p>
<p class="indent">"Yes, I have; mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with
nice pianos, and being afraid of people."</p>
<p class="indent">Beth's bundle was such a funny one that everybody wanted to
laugh; but nobody did, for it would have hurt her feelings very
much.</p>
<p class="indent">"Let us do it," said Meg thoughtfully. "It is only another name
for trying to be good, and the story may help us; for though we do
want to be good, it's hard work, and we forget, and don't do our
best."</p>
<p class="indent">"We were in the Slough of Despond to-night, and mother came
and pulled us out as Help did in the book. We ought to have our
roll of directions, like Christian. What shall we do about that?"
asked Jo, delighted with the fancy which lent a little romance to the
very dull task of doing her duty.</p>
<p class="indent">"Look under your pillows, Christmas morning, and you will find
your guide-book," replied Mrs. March.</p>
<p class="indent">They talked over the new plan while old Hannah cleared the table;
then out came the four little work-baskets, and the needles flew as
the girls made sheets for Aunt March. It was uninteresting sewing,
but to-night no one grumbled. They adopted Jo's plan of dividing
the long seams into four parts, and calling the quarters Europe, Asia,
Africa, and America, and in that way got on capitally, especially when
<span class="pagenum">[Pg 13]</span>
they talked about the different countries as they stitched their way
through them.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b013.png" id="b013.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b013.png" alt="No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano" title="No one but Beth could get much music out of the old piano" /></div>
<p class="indent">At nine they stopped work, and sung, as usual, before they went
to bed. No one but Beth could get much music out of the old
piano; but she had a way of softly touching the yellow keys, and
making a pleasant accompaniment to the simple songs they sung.
Meg had a voice like a flute, and she and her mother led the little
choir. Amy chirped like a cricket, and Jo wandered through the
airs at her own sweet will, always coming out at the wrong place with
a croak or a quaver that spoilt the most pensive tune. They had
always done this from the time they could lisp</p>
<p class="center">"Crinkle, crinkle, 'ittle 'tar,"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 14]</span>
and it had become a household custom, for the mother was a born
singer. The first sound in the morning was her voice, as she went
about the house singing like a lark; and the last sound at night was
the same cheery sound, for the girls never grew too old for that
familiar lullaby.</p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b014.png" id="b014.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b014.png" alt="At nine they stopped work and sung as usual" title="At nine they stopped work and sung as usual" /></div>
<hr class="hr2" />
<p><span class="pagenum">[Pg 15]</span></p>
<div class="figcenter"> <SPAN name="b015.png" id="b015.png"></SPAN> <ANTIMG src="images/b015.png" alt="A Merry Christmas" title="A Merry Christmas" /></div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />