按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
e had a splendid brain in her little head； it liked study； and it thought interesting thoughts all day long。
Louisa liked to sit in a corner by herself； sometimes； and write thoughts in her diary； all the little girls kept diaries。 She liked to make up stories out of her own head； and sometimes she made verses。
When the four little sisters had finished their lessons； and had helped their mother sew and clean； they used to go to the big barn to play； and the best play of all was theatricals。 Louisa liked theatricals better than anything。
They made the barn into a theatre； and the grown people came to see the plays they acted。 They used to climb up on the hay… mow for a stage； and the grown people sat in chairs on the floor。 It was great fun。 One of the plays they acted was Jack and the Bean…Stalk。 They had a ladder from the floor to the loft； and on the ladder they tied a squash vine all the way up to the loft； to look like the wonderful bean…stalk。 One of the little girls was dressed up to look like Jack； and she acted that part。 When it came to the place in the story where the giant tried to follow Jack； the little girl cut down the bean…stalk； and down came the giant tumbling from the loft。 The giant was made out of pillows； with a great； fierce head of paper； and funny clothes。
Another story that they acted was Cinderella。 They made a wonderful big pumpkin out of the wheelbarrow； trimmed with yellow paper； and Cinderella rolled away in it； when the fairy godmother waved her wand。
One other beautiful story they used to play。 It was the story of Pilgrim's Progress； if you have never heard it； you must be sure to read it as soon as you can read well enough to understand the old…fashioned words。 The little girls used to put shells in their hats for a sign they were on a pilgrimage； as the old pilgrims used to do； then they made journeys over the hill behind the house； and through the woods； and down the lanes； and when the pilgrimage was over they had apples and nuts to eat； in the happy land of home。
Louisa loved all these plays； and she made some of her own and wrote them down so that the children could act them。
But better than fun or writing Louisa loved her mother； and by and by； as the little girl began to grow into a big girl； she felt very sad to see her dear mother work so hard。 She helped all she could with the housework； but nothing could really help the tired mother except money； she needed money for food and clothes； and some one grown up； to help in the house。 But there never was enough money for these things； and Louisa's mother grew more and more weary； and sometimes ill。 I cannot tell you how much Louisa suffered over this。
At last； as Louisa thought about it； she came to care more about helping her mother and her father and her sisters than about anything else in all the world。 And she began to work very hard to earn money。 She sewed for people； and when she was a little older she taught some little girls their lessons； and then she wrote stories for the papers。 Every bit of money she earned； except what she had to use； she gave to her dear family。 It helped very much； but it was so little that Louisa never felt as if she were doing anything。
Every year she grew more unselfish； and every year she worked harder。 She liked writing stories best of all her work； but she did not get much money for them； and some people told her she was wasting her time。
At last； one day； a publisher asked Louisa； who was now a woman； to write a book for girls。 Louisa was not very well； and she was very tired； but she always said； 〃I'll try；〃 when she had a chance to work； so she said； 〃I'll try；〃 to the publisher。 When she thought about the book she remembered the good times she used to have with her sisters in the big； bare house in the country。 And so she wrote a story and put all that in it； she put her dear mother and her wise father in it； and all the little sisters； and besides the jolly times and the plays； she put the sad； hard times in；the work and worry and going without things。
When the book was written； she called it 〃Little Women；〃 and sent it to the publisher。
And； children； the little book made Louisa famous。 It was so sweet and funny and sad and real；like our own lives；that everybody wanted to read it。 Everybody bought it； and much money came from it。 After so many years； little Louisa's wish came true： she bought a nice house for her family； she sent one of her sisters to Europe； to study； she gave her father books； but best of all； she was able to see to it that the beloved mother； so tired and so ill； could have rest and happiness。 Never again did the dear mother have to do any hard work； and she had pretty things about her all the rest of her life。
Louisa Alcott； for that was Louisa's name； wrote many beautiful books after this； and she became one of the most famous women of America。 But I think the most beautiful thing about her is what I have been telling you： that she loved her mother so well that she gave her whole life to make her happy。
MY KINGDOM
The little Louisa I told you about； who wrote verses and stories in her diary； used to like to play that she was a princess； and that her kingdom was her own mind。 When she had unkind or dissatisfied thoughts； she tried to get rid of them by playing they were enemies of the kingdom； and she drove them out with soldiers； the soldiers were patience； duty； and love。 It used to help Louisa to be good to play this； and I think it may have helped make her the splendid woman she was afterward。 Maybe you would like to hear a poem she wrote about it； when she was only fourteen years old。＇1＇ It will help you； too； to think the same thoughts。
＇1＇ From Louisa M。 Alcott's Life； Letters； and Journals （Little； Brown & Co。）。 Copyright； 1878； by Louisa M。 Alcott。 Copyright； 1906； by J。 S。 P。 Alcott。
A little kingdom I possess； Where thoughts and feelings dwell； And very hard I find the task Of governing it well； For passion tempts and troubles me； A wayward will misleads； And selfishness its shadow casts On all my words and deeds。
How can I learn to rule myself； To be the child I should； Honest and brave； nor ever tire Of trying to be good？ How can I keep a sunny soul To shine along life's way？ How can I tune my little heart To sweetly sing all day？
Dear Father； help me with the love That casteth out my fear； Teach me to lean on thee； and feel That thou art very near；
That no temptation is unseen； No childish grief too small； Since thou； with patience infinite； Doth soothe and comfort all。
I do not ask for any crown But that which all may win； Nor seek to conquer any world； Except the one within。 Be thou my guide until I find； Led by a tender hand； Thy happy kingdom in MYSELF； And dare to take command。
PICCOLA＇1＇
＇1＇ From Celia Thaxter's Stories and Poems for Children Houghton； Mifflin & Co。）。
Poor； sweet Piccola！ Did you hear What happened to Piccola； children dear？ 'T is seldom Fortune such favor grants As fell to this little maid of France。
'Twas Christmas…time； and her parents poor Could hardly drive the wolf from the door； Striving with poverty's patient pain Only to live till summer again。
No gifts for Piccola！ Sad were they When dawned the morning of Christmas…day； Their little darling no joy might stir； St。 Nicholas nothing would bring to her！
But Piccola never doubted at all That something beautiful must befall Every child upon Christmas…day； And so she slept till the dawn was gray。
And full of faith； when at last she woke； She stole to her shoe as the morning broke； Such sounds of gladness filled all the air； 'T was plain St。 Nicholas had been there！
In rushed Piccola sweet； half wild： Never was seen such a joyful child。 〃See what the good saint brought！〃 she cried； And mother and father must peep inside。
Now such a story who ever heard？ There was a little shivering bird！ A sparrow； that in at the window flew； Had crept into Piccola's tiny shoe！
〃How good poor Piccola must have been！〃 She cried； as happy as any queen； While the starving sparrow she fed and warmed； And danced with rapture； she was so charmed。
Children； this story I tell to you； Of Piccola sweet and her bird； is true。 In the far…off land of France； they say； Still do they live to this very day。
THE LITTLE FIR TREE
＇When I was a very little girl some one； probably my mother； read to me Hans Christian Andersen's story of the Little Fir Tree。 It happened that I did not read it for myself or hear it again during my childhood。 One Christmas day； when I was grown up； I found myself at a loss for the 〃one more〃 story called for by some little children with whom I was spending the holiday。 In the mental search for buried treasure which ensued； I came upon one or two word…impressions of the experiences of the Little Fir Tree； and forthwith wove them into what I supposed to be something of a reproduction of the original。 The latter part of the story had wholly faded from my memory； so that I 〃made up〃 to suit the tastes of my audience。 Afterward I told the story to