Country Christmas, A A. Louisa May Alcott

       About Louisa May Alcott:

      Louisa May Alcott (November 29, 1832 – March 6, 1888) was an American novelist and poet best known as the author of the novel Little Women (1868) and its sequels Little Men (1871) and Jo's Boys (1886). Raised by her transcendentalist parents, Abigail May and Amos Bronson Alcott in New England, she also grew up among many of the well-known intellectuals of the day such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Henry David Thoreau and Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

      Alcott's family suffered from financial difficulties, and while she worked to help support the family from an early age, she also sought an outlet in writing. She began to receive critical success for her writing in the 1860s. Early in her career, she sometimes used the pen name A. M. Barnard, under which she wrote novels for young adults that focused on spies, revenge, and cross dressers.

      Published in 1868, Little Women is set in the Alcott family home, Orchard House, in Concord, Massachusetts and is loosely based on Alcott's childhood experiences with her three sisters. The novel was very well received and is still a popular children's novel today, filmed several times.

      Alcott was an abolitionist and a feminist and remained unmarried throughout her life. She died from a stroke, two days after her father died, in Boston on March 6, 1888.

      Source: Wikipedia

      A Country Christmas

      "Dear Emily, I have a brilliant idea and at once hasten to share it with you. Three weeks ago I came up here to the wilds of Vermont to visit my old aunt, also to get a little quiet and distance in which to survey certain new prospects that have opened before me, and to decide whether I will marry a millionaire and become a queen of society or remain 'the charming Miss Vaughan and wait till the conquering hero comes.

      "Aunt Plumy begs me to stay over Christmas, and I have consented, as I always dread the formal dinner with which my guardian celebrates the day.

      "My brilliant idea is this. I'm going to make it a real old-fashioned frolic, and won't you come and help me? You will enjoy it immensely, I am sure, for Aunt is a character, Cousin Saul worth seeing, and Ruth a far prettier girl than any of the city rosebuds coming out this season. Bring Leonard Randal along with you to take notes for his new books; then it will be fresher and truer than the last, clever as it was.

      "The air is delicious up here, society amusing, this old farmhouse full of treasures, and your bosom friend pining to embrace you. Just telegraph yes or no, and we will expect you on Tuesday. Ever yours, Sophie Vaughan"

      "They will both come, for they are as tired of city life and as fond of change as I am," said the writer of the above, as she folded her letter and went to get it posted without delay.

      Aunt Plumy was in the great kitchen making pies—a jolly old soul, with a face as ruddy as a winter apple, a cheery voice, and the kindest heart that ever beat under a gingham gown. Pretty Ruth was chopping the mince and singing so gaily as she worked that the four-and-twenty immortal blackbirds could not have put more music into a pie than she did.

      Saul was piling wood into the big oven, and Sophie paused a moment on the threshold to look at him; for she always enjoyed the sight of this stalwart cousin, whom she likened to a Norse Viking, with his fair hair and beard, keen blue eyes, and six feet of manly height, with shoulders that looked broad and strong enough to bear any burden.

      His back was toward her, but he saw her first and turned his flushed face to meet her, with the sudden lighting up it always showed when she approached.

      "I've done it, Aunt, and now I want Saul to post the letter, so we can get a speedy answer."

      "Just as soon as I can hitch up, cousin," and Saul pitched in his last log.

      "Well, dear, I haven't the least mite of objection, as long as it pleases you. I guess we can stand it ef you city folk can. I presume to say things will look kind of sing'lar to 'em, but I suppose that's what they come for. Idle folks do dreadful queer things to amuse 'em," and Aunt Plumy leaned on the rolling pin to smile and nod with a shrewd twinkle of her eye, as if she enjoyed the prospect as much as Sophie did.

      "I shall be afraid of them, but I'll try not to make you ashamed of me," said Ruth, who loved her charming cousin.

      "No fear of that, dear. They will be the awkward ones, and you must set them at ease by just being your simple selves and treating them as if they were everyday people. Nell is very nice and jolly when she drops her city ways, as she must here. She will enter into the spirit of the fun at once, and I know you'll all like her. Mr. Randall is rather the worse for too much praise and petting, as successful people are apt to be, so a little plain talk and rough work will do him good. He is a true gentleman in spite of his airs and elegance, and he will take it all in good part, if you treat him like a man and not like a lion."

      "I'll see to him," said Saul, who had listened with great interest to the latter part of Sophie's speech, evidently suspecting a lover and enjoying the idea of supplying him with a liberal amount of "plain talk and rough work."

      "I'll keep 'em busy if that's what they need; for there will be a sight to do, and we can't get help easy up here. Our young men don't hire out much. Work to home till they marry and don't go gaddin' around getting their heads full of foolish notions and forgettin' all the useful things their mothers taught 'em."

      Aunt Plumy glanced at Ruth as she spoke, and a sudden color in the girl's cheeks proved that the words hit certain ambitious fancies of this pretty daughter of the house of Basset.

      "They shall do their parts and not be a trouble; I'll see to that, for you certainly are the dearest aunt in the world to let me take possession of you and yours in this way," cried Sophie, embracing the old lady with warmth.

      Saul wished the embrace could be returned by proxy, as his mother's hands were too floury to do more than hover affectionately 'round the delicate face that looked so fresh and young beside her wrinkled one. As it could not be done, he fled temptation and "hitched up" without delay.

      The three women laid their heads together in his absence, and Sophie's plan grew apace, for Ruth longed to see a real novelist and a fine lady, and Aunt Plumy, having plans of her own to further, said "Yes, dear," to every suggestion.

      Great was the arranging and adorning that went on that day in the old farmhouse, for Sophie wanted her friends to enjoy this taste of country pleasures and knew just what additions would be indispensable to their comfort, what simple ornaments would be in keeping with the rustic stage on which she meant to play the part of prima donna.

      Next day a telegram arrived accepting the invitation, for both the lady and

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