Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (e books free to read TXT) 📕

Little Women

By Louisa May Alcott.

Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Epigraph Little Women Part I I: Playing Pilgrims II: A Merry Christmas III: The Laurence Boy IV: Burdens V: Being Neighborly VI: Beth Finds the Palace Beautiful VII: Amy’s Valley of Humiliation VIII: Jo Meets Apollyon IX: Meg Goes to Vanity Fair X: The P.C. and P.O. XI: Experiments XII: Camp Laurence XIII: Castles in the Air XIV: Secrets XV: A Telegram XVI: Letters XVII: Little Faithful XVIII: Dark Days XIX: Amy’s Will XX: Confidential XXI: Laurie Makes Mischief, and Jo Makes Peace XXII: Pleasant Meadows XXIII: Aunt March Settles the Question Part II XXIV: Gossip XXV: The First Wedding XXVI: Artistic Attempts XXVII: Literary Lessons XXVIII: Domestic Experiences XXIX: Calls XXX: Consequences XXXI: Our Foreign Correspondent XXXII: Tender Troubles XXXIII: Jo’s Journal XXXIV: A Friend XXXV: Heartache XXXVI: Beth’s Secret XXXVII: New Impressions XXXVIII: On the Shelf XXXIX: Lazy Laurence XL: The Valley of the Shadow XLI: Learning to Forget XLII: All Alone XLIII: Surprises XLIV: My Lord and Lady XLV: Daisy and Demi XLVI: Under the Umbrella XLVII: Harvest Time Colophon Uncopyright Imprint

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“Go then, my little Book, and show to all
That entertain and bid thee welcome shall,
What thou dost keep close shut up in thy breast;
And wish what thou dost show them may be blest
To them for good, may make them choose to be
Pilgrims better, by far, than thee or me.
Tell them of Mercy; she is one
Who early hath her pilgrimage begun.
Yea, let young damsels learn of her to prize
The world which is to come, and so be wise;
For little tripping maids may follow God
Along the ways which saintly feet have trod.”

Adapted from John Bunyan Little Women Part I I Playing Pilgrims

“Christmas won’t be Christmas without any presents,” grumbled Jo, lying on the rug.

“It’s so dreadful to be poor!” sighed Meg, looking down at her old dress.

“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.

“We’ve got father and mother and each other,” said Beth contentedly, from her corner.

The four young faces on which the firelight shone brightened at the cheerful words, but darkened again as Jo said sadly⁠—

“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.

Nobody spoke for a minute; then Meg said in an altered tone⁠—

“You know the reason mother proposed not having any presents this Christmas was because it is going to be a hard winter for everyone; 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.

“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 so long,” said Jo, who was a bookworm.

“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.

“I shall get a nice box of Faber’s drawing-pencils; I really need them,” said Amy decidedly.

“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.

“I know 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.

“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?”

“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 anyone could hear that time.

“I don’t believe any of you suffer as I do,” cried