Little Women by Louisa May Alcott (e books free to read TXT) 📕
Description
Little Women is the classic coming-of-age tale of four sisters on their journey to adulthood. Though today it’s considered a classic, Little Women almost wasn’t written: Alcott wanted to publish a collection of short stories instead, but her publisher and her father pressed her to write a book that would appeal to a wide audience of young girls.
The first volume was written quickly and published in 1868; it was a huge success, and Alcott composed volume 2 just as quickly and published it in 1869. By her own account she didn’t enjoy writing them, and both she and her publisher agreed the first few chapters were dull—it almost goes without saying they were pleasantly shocked at the positive reception the volumes received.
By 1927 it had been acknowledged as one of the most widely-read novels of the era, and remains widely read today.
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- Author: Louisa May Alcott
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“Please, ma’am, could I inquire if this highly instructive and charming institution is a new one?”
“Would you tell him?” asked Meg of her sisters.
“He’ll laugh,” said Amy warningly.
“Who cares?” said Jo.
“I guess he’ll like it,” added Beth.
“Of course I shall! I give you my word I won’t laugh. Tell away, Jo, and don’t be afraid.”
“The idea of being afraid of you! Well, you see we used to play ‘Pilgrim’s Progress,’ and we have been going on with it in earnest, all winter and summer.”
“Yes, I know,” said Laurie, nodding wisely.
“Who told you?” demanded Jo.
“Spirits.”
“No, I did; I wanted to amuse him one night when you were all away, and he was rather dismal. He did like it, so don’t scold, Jo,” said Beth meekly.
“You can’t keep a secret. Never mind; it saves trouble now.”
“Go on, please,” said Laurie, as Jo became absorbed in her work, looking a trifle displeased.
“Oh, didn’t she tell you about this new plan of ours? Well, we have tried not to waste our holiday, but each has had a task, and worked at it with a will. The vacation is nearly over, the stints are all done, and we are ever so glad that we didn’t dawdle.”
“Yes, I should think so;” and Laurie thought regretfully of his own idle days.
“Mother likes to have us out of doors as much as possible; so we bring our work here, and have nice times. For the fun of it we bring our things in these bags, wear the old hats, use poles to climb the hill, and play pilgrims, as we used to do years ago. We call this hill the ‘Delectable Mountain,’ for we can look far away and see the country where we hope to live some time.”
Jo pointed, and Laurie sat up to examine; for through an opening in the wood one could look across the wide, blue river, the meadows on the other side, far over the outskirts of the great city, to the green hills that rose to meet the sky. The sun was low, and the heavens glowed with the splendor of an autumn sunset. Gold and purple clouds lay on the hilltops; and rising high into the ruddy light were silvery white peaks, that shone like the airy spires of some Celestial City.
“How beautiful that is!” said Laurie softly, for he was quick to see and feel beauty of any kind.
“It’s often so; and we like to watch it, for it is never the same, but always splendid,” replied Amy, wishing she could paint it.
“Jo talks about the country where we hope to live some time—the real country, she means, with pigs and chickens, and haymaking. It would be nice, but I wish the beautiful country up there was real, and we could ever go to it,” said Beth musingly.
“There is a lovelier country even than that, where we shall go, by and by, when we are good enough,” answered Meg, with her sweet voice.
“It seems so long to wait, so hard to do; I want to fly away at once, as those swallows fly, and go in at that splendid gate.”
“You’ll get there, Beth, sooner or later; no fear of that,” said Jo; “I’m the one that will have to fight and work, and climb and wait, and maybe never get in after all.”
“You’ll have me for company, if that’s any comfort. I shall have to do a deal of travelling before I come in sight of your Celestial City. If I arrive late, you’ll say a good word for me, won’t you, Beth?”
Something in the boy’s face troubled his little friend; but she said cheerfully, with her quiet eyes on the changing clouds, “If people really want to go, and really try all their lives, I think they will get in; for I don’t believe there are any locks on that door, or any guards at the gate. I always imagine it is as it is in the picture, where the shining ones stretch out their hands to welcome poor Christian as he comes up from the river.”
“Wouldn’t it be fun if all the castles in the air which we make could come true, and we could live in them?” said Jo, after a little pause.
“I’ve made such quantities it would be hard to choose which I’d have,” said Laurie, lying flat, and throwing cones at the squirrel who had betrayed him.
“You’d have to take your favorite one. What is it?” asked Meg.
“If I tell mine, will you tell yours?”
“Yes, if the girls will too.”
“We will. Now, Laurie.”
“After I’d seen as much of the world as I want to, I’d like to settle in Germany, and have just as much music as I choose. I’m to be a famous musician myself, and all creation is to rush to hear me; and I’m never to be bothered about money or business, but just enjoy myself, and live for what I like. That’s my favorite castle. What’s yours, Meg?”
Margaret seemed to find it a little hard to tell hers, and waved a brake before her face, as if to disperse imaginary gnats, while she said slowly, “I should like a lovely house, full of all sorts of luxurious things—nice food, pretty clothes, handsome furniture, pleasant people, and heaps of money. I am to be mistress of it, and manage it as I like, with plenty of servants, so I never need work a bit. How I should enjoy it! for I wouldn’t be idle, but do good, and make everyone love me dearly.”
“Wouldn’t you have a master for your castle in the air?” asked Laurie slyly.
“I said ‘pleasant people,’ you know;” and Meg carefully tied up her shoe as she spoke, so that no one saw her face.
“Why don’t you say you’d have a splendid, wise, good husband, and some angelic little children? You know your castle wouldn’t be perfect without,” said blunt Jo, who had no tender fancies yet,
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