THE COMPLETE WORKS OF LOUISA MAY ALCOTT: Novels, Short Stories, Plays & Poems (Illustrated Edition). Louisa May Alcott

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СКАЧАТЬ Searched many wide unfruitful fields,

       And many waters stirred.

      At length she came unto a stream

       Most fertile of all Niles, Where tuneful birds might soar and sing Among the leafy isles.

      Here did she build a little nest

       Beside the waters still,

       Where the parental goose could rest

       Unvexed by any bill.

      And here she paused to smooth her plumes,

       Ruffled by many plagues;

       When suddenly arose the cry,

       "This goose lays golden eggs."

      At once the farm-yard was agog;

       The ducks began to quack;

       Prim Guinea fowls relenting called,

       "Come back, come back, come back."

      Great chanticleer was pleased to give

       A patronizing crow,

       And the contemptuous biddies clucked,

       "I wish my chicks did so."

      The peacocks spread their shining tails,

       And cried in accents soft,

       "We want to know you, gifted one,

       Come up and sit aloft."

      Wise owls awoke and gravely said,

       With proudly swelling breasts,

       "Rare birds have always been evoked

       From transcendental nests!"

      News-hunting turkeys from afar

       Now ran with all thin legs

       To gobble facts and fictions of

       The goose with golden eggs.

      But best of all the little fowls

       Still playing on the shore,

       Soft downy chicks and goslings gay,

       Chirped out, "Dear Goose, lay more."

      But goosey all these weary years

       Had toiled like any ant,

       And wearied out she now replied,

       "My little dears, I can't.

      "When I was starving, half this corn

       Had been of vital use,

       Now I am surfeited with food

       Like any Strasbourg goose."

      So to escape too many friends,

       Without uncivil strife,

       She ran to the Atlantic pond

       And paddled for her life.

      Soon up among the grand old Alps

       She found two blessed things,

       The health she had so nearly lost,

       And rest for weary limbs.

      But still across the briny deep

       Couched in most friendly words,

       Came prayers for letters, tales, or verse,

       From literary birds.

      Whereat the renovated fowl

       With grateful thanks profuse,

       Took from her wing a quill and wrote

       This lay of a Golden Goose.

      Bex, Switzerland, August, 1870.

      THE year 1869 was less fruitful in work than the preceding one. Miss Alcott spent the winter in Boston and the summer in Concord. She was ill and very tired, and felt little inclined for mental effort. "Hospital Sketches," which had been first published by Redpath, was now republished by Roberts Brothers, with the addition of six shorter "Camp and Fireside Stories." The interest of the public in either the author or the work had not lessened; for two thousand copies of the book in its new form were sold the first week. In her weary condition she finds her celebrity rather a burden than a pleasure, and says in her journal:–

      People begin to come and stare at the Alcotts. Reporters haunt the place to look at the authoress, who dodges into the woods à la Hawthorne, and won't be even a very small lion.

      Refreshed my soul with Goethe, ever strong and fine and alive. Gave S. E. S. $200 to invest. What richness to have a little not needed!

      Miss Alcott had some pleasant refreshment in travelling during the summer.

      July.– ... Spent in Canada with my cousins, the Frothinghams, at their house at Rivière du Loup,–a little village on the St. Lawrence, full of queer people. Drove, read, and walked with the little ones. A pleasant, quiet time.

      August.– ... A month with May at Mt. Desert. A gay time, and a little rest and pleasure before the old pain and worry began again.

      Made up $1,000 for S. E. S. to invest. Now I have $1,200 for a rainy day, and no debts. With that thought I can bear neuralgia gayly.

      In the autumn the whole family went to Boston, the father and mother staying with Mrs. Pratt; while Louisa and her sister May, "the workers," occupied rooms in Pinckney Street. Not being well enough to do much new work, Louisa began using up her old stories, and found that the little women "helped their rejected sisters to good places where once they went a-begging." In January, 1870, she suffered from loss of voice, for which she tried "heroic treatment" under a distinguished physician. She got well enough to write a little, and in February wrote the conclusion to "The Old-fashioned Girl," which was published in March. She says:–

      I wrote it with left hand in a sling, one foot up, head aching, and no voice. Yet, as the book is funny, people will say, "Didn't you enjoy doing it?" I often think of poor Tom Hood as I scribble, rather than lie and groan. I certainly earn my living by the sweat of my brow.

      The book does not reveal this condition; for nothing could be fresher, brighter, and more wholesome than the heroine Polly, many of whose adventures are drawn from the author's own experience. She steps out of her usual surroundings into the fashionable life of the city, but betrays her own want of sympathy with it. The book has always been very popular.

      In 1870, the success of "Hospital Sketches" and the continued receipts from "Little Women" put their author in a pecuniary position which enabled her to go abroad for the rest and refreshment which she sorely needed. The younger sister was invited to go by her friend A. B. on condition СКАЧАТЬ