A WOMAN'S POWER. Луиза Мэй Олкотт

full of trees, and best of all a large barn, in which the children could have free range and act out all the plays with which their little heads were teeming. Of course it was a delightful change from the city for the children, and here they passed two very happy years, for they were too young to understand the cares which pressed upon the hearts of their parents. Life was full of interest. One cold morning they found in the garden a little half-starved bird; and having warmed and fed it, Louisa was inspired to write a pretty poem to "The Robin." The fond mother was so delighted that she said to her, "You will grow up a Shakspeare!" From the lessons of her father she had formed the habit of writing freely, but this is the first recorded instance of her attempting to express her feelings in verse.

      From the influences of such parentage as I have described, the family life in which Louisa was brought up became wholly unique.

      If the father had to give up his cherished projects of a school modelled after his ideas, he could at least conduct the education of his own children; and he did so with the most tender devotion. Even when they were infants he took a great deal of personal care of them, and loved to put the little ones to bed and use the "children's hour" to instil into their hearts lessons of love and wisdom. He was full of fun too, and would lie on the floor and frolic with them, making compasses of his long legs with which to draw letters and diagrams. No shade of fear mingled with the children's reverent recognition of his superior spiritual life. So their hearts lay open to him, and he was able to help them in their troubles.

      He taught them much by writing; and we have many specimens of their lists of words to be spelled, written, and understood. The lessons at Scituate were often in the garden, and their father always drew their attention to Nature and her beautiful forms and meanings. Little symbolical pictures helped to illustrate his lessons, and he sometimes made drawings himself. Here is an example of lessons. A quaint little picture represents one child playing on a harp, another drawing an arrow. It is inscribed–

      FOR LOUISA.

      1840.

      Two passions strong divide our life,–

       Meek, gentle love, or boisterous strife.

      Below the child playing the harp is–

      Love, Music,

       Concord.

      Below the shooter is–

      Anger, Arrow,

       Discord.

      Another leaflet is–

      FOR LOUISA

      1840.

      Louisa loves–

       What?

       (Softly.) Fun. Have some then, Father says. Christmas Eve, December, 1840. Concordia.

      FOR ANNA.

       1840.

       Beauty or Duty,–

       which

       loves Anna best?

       A

       Question

       from her

       Father.

       Christmas Eve,

       December, 1840.

       Concordia.

      A letter beautifully printed by her father for Louisa (1839) speaks to her of conscience, and she adds to it this note: "L. began early, it seems, to wrestle with her conscience." The children were always required to keep their journals regularly, and although these were open to the inspection of father and mother, they were very frank, and really recorded their struggles and desires. The mother had the habit of writing little notes to the children when she wished to call their attention to any fault or peculiarity. Louisa preserved many of them, headed,–

      [Extracts from letters from Mother, received during these early years. I preserve them to show the ever tender, watchful help she gave to the child who caused her the most anxiety, yet seemed to be the nearest to her heart till the end.–L. M. A.]

      No. 1.–My Dear Little Girl,–Will you accept this doll from me on your seventh birthday? She will be a quiet playmate for my active Louisa for seven years more. Be a kind mamma, and love her for my sake.

      Your Mother.

       Beach Street, Boston, 1839.

      From her Mother.

      Cottage in Concord.

      Dear Daughter,–Your tenth birthday has arrived. May it be a happy one, and on each returning birthday may you feel new strength and resolution to be gentle with sisters, obedient to parents, loving to every one, and happy in yourself.

      I give you the pencil-case I promised, for I have observed that you are fond of writing, and wish to encourage the habit.

      Go on trying, dear, and each day it will be easier to be and do good. You must help yourself, for the cause of your little troubles is in yourself; and patience and courage age only will make you what mother prays to see you,–her good and happy girl.

      Concord, 1843.

      Dear Louy,–I enclose a picture for you which I always liked very much, for I imagined that you might be just such an industrious daughter and I such a feeble but loving mother, looking to your labor for my daily bread.

      Keep it for my sake and your own, for you and I always liked to be grouped together.

      Mother.

      The lines I wrote under the picture in my journal:–

      TO MOTHER.

      I hope that soon, dear mother,

       You and I may be

       In the quiet room my fancy

       Has so often made for thee,–

      The pleasant, sunny chamber,

       The cushioned easy-chair,

       The book laid for your reading,

       The vase of flowers fair;

      The desk beside the window

       Where the sun shines warm and bright:

       And there in ease and quiet

       The promised book you write;

      While I sit close beside you,

       Content at last to see

       That you can rest, dear mother,

       And I can cherish thee.

      [The dream came true, and for the last ten years of her life Marmee sat in peace, with every wish granted, even to the "grouping together;" for she died in my arms.–L. M. A.]

      A passage in Louisa's story of "Little Men" (p. 268) describes one of their childish plays. They "made believe" their minds were little round rooms in which the soul lived, and in which good or bad things were preserved. This play was never forgotten in after life, and the girls often looked into their little rooms for comfort or guidance in trial or temptation.

      Louisa was very fond of animals, as is abundantly shown in her stories. She never had the happiness of owning many pets, except cats, and these were the delight of the household. The children played all manner of plays with them, tended them in sickness, buried them with funeral honors, and Louisa has embalmed their memory in the story of "The Seven Black Cats" in "Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag."

      Dolls were an equal source of pleasure. The imaginative children hardly recognized them as manufactured articles, but endowed them with life and feeling. Louisa put her dolls through every experience of life; they were fed, educated, punished, rewarded, nursed, and even hung and buried, and then resurrected in her stories. The account of the "Sacrifice of the Dolls" to the exacting Kitty Mouse in "Little Men" delights all children by its mixture of pathetic earnestness and playfulness. It is taken from the experience of another family of children.

      Miss Alcott twice says that she never went to any school but her father's; but there were some slight exceptions to this rule. She went a few months