MRS. ALCOTT'S "LITTLE MEN."*

THE "Little Women" whom Mrs. Alcott introduced two or three years ago to English readers are, we fancy, as great favourites here as they are in their own country. Everyone will sympathise with the author's manifest unwillingness to dismiss into nothing- ness these delightful creatures of her pen. We were very glad to read about "Little Women Wedded," and now we have had an even greater pleasure, which we invite our readers to share, in hearing the further fortunes of our especial favourite, the young lady who owned the significant pet name of "Jo."

"Jo," when we last heard of her, had become Mrs. Professor Bhaer. She had always been, as her admirers will remember,

Little Men: Life at Plurryield with Jo's Boys. By Louisa Alcott, ctc. London: Sampson Low, Marston, Low, and Searle. 1872.

something of a "boy," and now she cannot live happily without. surrounding herself with a number of these creatures. The establishment at Plinnfield over which we find her presid- ing has a slightly Utopian look. Waifs and strays are taken from the streets, and made to consort with carefully reared children, with the happiest results ; the Professor punishes naughty boys by making them cane him, and an unseen pecu- niary Providence appears to watch over the place, for while it could hardly have "paid," in a commercial sense, it enjoys a serene prosperity of abundant ease lying far above the dull

region of money cares. But, however this may be, the boys- themselves ate delightfully real and human, and no less delight-

fully amusing. On the whole, we think that they are the best

boys—we mean " best " in the literary sense—that we have ever come across. We say this without forgetting the admirable

children in Mr. Henry Kingsley's Ravens/toe. Their sayings and doings raise inextinguishable laughter, however often we go back to them ; but they bear the same relation to Mrs. Alcott's boys that Mr. Pickwick does to one, say, of Mr. Anthony Trollope's easiest sketches.

There is such a store of good things in the book—Mrs. Alcott wisely does not attempt a plot, but gives a sort of chronicle of Plumfield doings—that we do not find it easy to make a choice.

But perhaps the episode of "The Naughty Kittymouse," a sprite whom Daisy and Demi (friends of the family will remember that these are Meg's twin-children) fear and serve, is as good as- anything. Demi, whose imagination has been excited by what he has been hearing in the school-room, annciunces to his sister

that the Kittymouse wanted them that afternoon for a " sacker- ryfice." "There must," he told her, "be a fire behind the big

rock at two o'clock, and we must bring all the things we like best and burn them." He himself has heroically determined to give up his boat, his best scrap-book, and all his soldiers. Daisy finds that she loves best some paper dollies, and after a vain effort to save her favourites, consents to give them up :—

" At the appointed hour the sacrificial train set forth, each child bearing the treasures demanded by the insatiable Kitty mouse. Teddy insisted on going also, and seeing that all the others had toys, he tucked a squeaking lamb under one arm and old Annabelle under the other, little dreaming what anguish the latter idol was to give him."

The fire i8 lighted, and Demi begins the offerings :— "He solemnly laid on a little paper book full of pictures, pasted in by himself; this was followed by a dilapidated boat, and then one by one the unhappy leaden soldiers marched to death. No one faltered or hung- back, from the splendid red-and-yellow captain to the small drummer who had lost his legs ; all vanished in the flames and mingled in one common pool of melted lead. 'Now Daisy!' called the high priest of Kittymouse, when his rich offerings had been consumed, to the great satisfaction of the children. 'My dear dollies, how can I let them go?' moaned Daisy, hugging the entire dozen with a face full of maternal woe. You must,' commanded Demi; and with a farewell kiss to each Daisy laid her blooming dolls upon the coals. Let me keep ono, the dear blue thing, she is so sweet,' besought the poor little mamma, clutching her last in despair. 'More! more ! ' growled an awful voice ; and Demi cried, That's the Kittymouse ! she must have every one ; quick ! or she will scratch us !' In went the precious blue belle, flounces, rosy hat, and all, and nothing but a few black flakes remained of that bright band. Stand the houses and trees round, and let them catch themselves ; it will be a real fire then,' said Demi, who liked

variety even in his sackerryfices.'" •

The end of Annabella is awfully tragic :— " The superb success of this last offering (the houses and trees) excited Teddy to such a degree that he first threw his lamb into the conflagration, and before it had time even to roast, he planted poor dear Annabelle in the funeral pyre. Of course she did not like it, and expressed her anguish and resentment in a way that terrified her infant destroyer. Being made of kid, she did not blaze, but did what was worse, she squirmed. First one leg curled up, then the other, in a very awful and life-like manner ; next she flung her arms over her head, as if in great agony ; her head itself turned on her shoulders, her glass eyes fell out, and with one final writhe of her whole body she sank down a blackened mass on the ruins of the town. This unexpected demonstration startled every one, and frightened Teddy half out of his little wits. He looked, then screamed, and fled towards the house, roaring ' Marmar !' at the top of his voice."

A specially pathetic bit is where Teddy's brother Rob is lost picking huckleberries-,—the calm faith with which the child falls asleep, quite sure that " Marmar " will come and find him- " She always does. I ain't afraid now "—and the constancy with which he refuses to eat his berries because he had promised " Marmar " to take them all to her, are beautifully described. The talk of the children—a certain mischievous little girl has got Rob into the trouble—about their prospects of food, and their attempts, among other things, to "light a fire with a fire- fly," are capitally given. More serious passages are not wanting. The Plumfield boys are not perfect, and pass through some very serious- trials of their courage and honesty. Here the tone of the book is thoroughly healthy, and thoroughly free from exaggera- tion. Any well-disposed, intelligent boy or girl must get much good from reading it, and their elders, if they want truth about the wise and loving management of children, will get even more.

We may be allowed to add that Messrs. Low's is the "author's edition." We do not commonly make these announcements, but every one is bound to defeat, as far as he can, the efforts of those enterprising persons who proclaim with much unction the sacred duty of not letting an American author get his proper share of profits.