Louisa May Alcott

mag­na­nim­ity

pre­cip­i­tately

ef­fer­ves­cence

par­tic­u­lar and prim.

I don’t think it’s fair for some girls to have plenty of pretty things, and other girls noth­ing at all

Lovely weather so far; I don’t know how long it will last, but I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learn­ing how to sail my ship.

I’m not afraid of storms, for I’m learn­ing how to sail my ship.

“ ‘I have had many pairs of slip­pers in my life, but I never had any that suited me so well as yours,’ ” con­tin­ued Jo. “ ‘Heart’s-ease is my fa­vorite flower, and these will al­ways re­mind me of the gen­tle giver. I like to pay my debts; so I know you will al­low “the old gen­tle­man” to send you some­thing which once be­longed to the lit­tle grand­daugh­ter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I re­main—

“ ‘Your grate­ful friend and hum­ble ser­vant,

“ ‘James Lau­rence.’ ”

But, you see, Jo wasn’t a hero­ine; she was only a strug­gling hu­man girl, like hun­dreds of oth­ers, and she just acted out her na­ture, be­ing sad, cross, list­less, or en­er­getic, as the mood sug­gested. It’s highly vir­tu­ous to say we’ll be good, but we can’t do it all at once, and it takes a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull all to­gether, be­fore some of us even get our feet set in the right way.

Her face looked tired, grave, and rather sad; for to­mor­row was her birth­day, and she was think­ing how fast the years went by, how old she was get­ting, and how lit­tle she seemed to have ac­com­plished. Al­most twenty-five, and noth­ing to show for it. Jo was mis­taken in that; there was a good deal to show, and by and by she saw, and was grate­ful for it.