The charm of her books lies in their freshness, naturalness, and sympathy with the feelings and pursuits of boys and girls.  She says of herself, “I was born with a boy’s spirit under my bib and tucker,” and she never lost it.  Her style is often careless, never elegant, for she wrote hurriedly, and never revised or even read over her manuscript; yet her books are full of humor and pathos, and preach the gospel of work and simple, wholesome living.  She has been a help and inspiration to many young girls, who have learned from her Jo in ‘Little Women,’ or Polly in the ‘Old-Fashioned Girl,’ or Christie in ‘Work,’ that a woman can support herself and her family without losing caste or self-respect.  Her stories of the comradeship of New England boys and girls in school or play have made her a popular author in countries where even brothers and sisters see little of each other.  The haste and lack of care in her books are the result of writing under pressure for money to support the family, to whom she gave the best years of her life.  As a little girl once said of her in a school essay, “I like all Miss Alcott’s books; but what I like best in them is the author herself.”

The reader is referred to ’Louisa May Alcott:  Her Life, Letters, and Journals,’ edited by Ednah D. Cheney, published in 1889.

THE NIGHT WARD

From ‘Hospital Sketches’

Being fond of the night side of nature, I was soon promoted to the post of night nurse, with every facility for indulging in my favorite pastime of “owling.”  My colleague, a black-eyed widow, relieved me at dawn, we two taking care of the ward between us, like regular nurses, turn and turn about.  I usually found my boys in the jolliest state of mind their condition allowed; for it was a known fact that Nurse Periwinkle objected to blue devils, and entertained a belief that he who laughed most was surest of recovery.  At the beginning of my reign, dumps and dismals prevailed; the nurses looked anxious and tired, the men gloomy or sad; and a general “Hark-from-the-tombs-a-doleful-sound” style of conversation seemed to be the fashion:  a state of things which caused one coming from a merry, social New England town, to feel as if she had got into an exhausted receiver; and the instinct of self-preservation, to say nothing of a philanthropic desire to serve the race, caused a speedy change in Ward No. 1.

More flattering than the most gracefully turned compliment, more grateful than the most admiring glance, was the sight of those rows of faces, all strange to me a little while ago, now lighting up with smiles of welcome as I came among them, enjoying that moment heartily, with a womanly pride in their regard, a motherly affection for them all.  The evenings were spent in reading aloud, writing letters, waiting on and amusing the men, going the rounds with Dr. P——­ as he made his second daily survey, dressing my dozen wounds afresh, giving last doses, and making them cozy for the long hours to come, till the nine o’clock bell rang, the gas was turned down, the day nurses went off duty, the night watch came on, and my nocturnal adventures began.