LITTLE WOMEN LETTERS

FROM THE

HOUSE OF ALCOTT

Frontispiece.
Orchard House, the Alcott Homestead.

Copyright, 1914,
By John S. P. Alcott.

All rights reserved

Published, September, 1914

Set up and electrotyped by J. S. Cushing Co., Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
Presswork by S. J. Parkhill & Co., Boston, Mass., U.S.A.

FOREWORD

Next to the joy of giving to the Alcott-loving public "Little Women" as a play, is the privilege and pleasure of offering this book of letters, revealing the childhood and home life of the beloved Little Women.

May they bring help and happiness to many mothers and inspiration and love to many children.

CONTENTS

chapter page

• The "Really, Truly" True 1
• The Alcott Boy; The Alcott Man 10
• The Alcott Children 28
• The Alcott Baby Book 39
• Letters and Conversations with Children 59
• The Mother's Influence 98
• Children's Diaries 122
• Girlhood and Womanhood 140
• Friendships and Beliefs 162

• Chronology 195

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

• Orchard House, the Alcott Homestead Frontispiece
•  page
• A. Bronson Alcott at the age of 53, from the portrait by Mrs. Hildreth 54
• Facsimile of Mr. Alcott's Letter to Louisa, Nov. 29, 1839 82
• Facsimile of Mr. Alcott's Letter to Louisa, June 21, 1840 86
• Facsimile of Mr. Alcott's Letter to Elizabeth, 1840 92
• Abigail May, Mrs. A. Bronson Alcott, from a Daguerreotype 106
• Anna Bronson Alcott, from a Daguerreotype 122
• Abba May Alcott, from a Photograph 142
• Louisa May Alcott, from a Daguerreotype 160

LITTLE WOMEN
LETTERS FROM THE HOUSE
OF ALCOTT

CHAPTER I

The "Really, Truly" True

WHEN "Little Women," the play, reopened to many readers the pages of "Little Women," the book, that delightful chronicle of family life, dramatist and producer learned from many unconscious sources the depth of Louisa M. Alcott's human appeal. Standing one night at the back of the theater as the audience was dispersing, they listened to its comments on the play.

"A wonderful picture of home life, only we don't have such homes," said a big, prosperous-looking man to his wife, with a touch of regret in his voice.

"Yes," agreed his young daughter, a tall, slender, graceful girl, as she snuggled down cosily into her fur coat and tucked a bunch of violets away from the touch of the frosty night, "it is beautiful; but, daddy, it isn't real. There never was such a family."

But it is real; there was such a family, and in