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    Womens Short Stories 4
    Womens Short Stories 4
    Womens Short Stories 4
    Ebook89 pages1 hour

    Womens Short Stories 4

    By Louisa May Alcott, Alice Dunbar and George Eliot

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    About this ebook

    Women’s Short Stories – Volume 4. The short story is often viewed as an inferior relation to the Novel. But it is an art in itself. To take a story and distil its essence into fewer pages while keeping character and plot rounded and driven is not an easy task. Many try and many fail. In this series we look at short stories from many of our most accomplished female writers. Miniature masterpieces with a lot to say. Many of those stories are published in our audiobook version available at iTunes, Amazon and other digital stores.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopyright Group
    Release dateSep 24, 2013
    ISBN9781780006062
    Womens Short Stories 4
    Author

    Louisa May Alcott

    Louisa May Alcott was a 19th-century American novelist best known for her novel, Little Women, as well as its well-loved sequels, Little Men and Jo's Boys. Little Women is renowned as one of the very first classics of children’s literature, and remains a popular masterpiece today.

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    • 5/5
      I was favorably impressed with this tiny volume of short stories by 19th century novelist Louisa May Alcott. This is the first book I've read by her in over 50 years! I did read Little Women as a child, but I have no recollection of that book other than I liked it. In addition, my elementary school was named after this author. It was Louisa May Alcott School #59 on Reisterstown Road in Baltimore, Maryland. I don't know if that school (or even the building) still exists. :)There are only five stories in this 55-page book. It was very quick to read, but also suitably engaging. I liked that four of her stories were about her experiences as a nurse at a military hospital in Georgetown, DC (in the heart of what is now Washington, DC) during the Civil War. She was a night nurse for part of that time, at least. I, too, was a nurse in DC, although my experience was as a visiting nurse in the second half of the twentieth century. There are some things about nursing that never change. It's what I always liked best about nursing - that is, the human interactions and the support provided by nurses through helping others cope with injury, illness, and death. These topics are handled beautifully in this book. The nurse in our story is warm and caring. She also is an abolitionist who, in a story called "My Contraband" gives great support to the mixed race brother of a Rebel in a most unusual story that uses Fort Wagner, South Carolina, as the historical setting for a dramatic scene. I was taken aback by the essay called "Happy Women" which was the author's explanation of why women did not need to defend their position of not wanting to marry. It's a very dated essay, but the content seemed quite outspoken for its time. These are very heart-rending stories which touched me deeply. Who knows? I might even choose to go back and read a bit more by this nineteenth century author whose writing I've neglected for a very long time!

    Book preview

    Womens Short Stories 4 - Louisa May Alcott

    Women’s Short Stories – Volume 4

    The short story is often viewed as an inferior relation to the Novel.  But it is an art in itself.  To take a story and distil its essence into fewer pages while keeping character and plot rounded and driven is not an easy task.  Many try and many fail. 

    In this series we look at short stories from many of our most accomplished female writers.  Miniature masterpieces with a lot to say. 

    Their art in writing a short story can be barely noticed by a reader or listener - such is the quality with which they are usually written. It is a difficult trade, an unforgiving discipline, but for those who master it, the rewards are many. In this series of works by our greatest female writers, we bring you a selection of those we consider the best.

    Many of these stories are also available as an audiobook from our sister company Word Of Mouth. 

    Index of Stories

    Obtaining Supplies by Louisa may Alcott

    Psychology by Katherine Mansfield

    By The Bayou St John by Alice Dunbar

    Tom & Maggie Tulliver by George Eliot

    Obtaining Supplies by Louisa May Alcott

    I want something to do.

    This remark being addressed to the world in general, no one in particular felt it their duty to reply; so I repeated it to the smaller world about me, received the following suggestions, and settled the matter by answering my own inquiry, as people are apt to do when very much in earnest.

    Write a book, quoth the author of my being.

    Don't know enough, sir. First live, then write.

    Try teaching again, suggested my mother.

    No thank you, ma'am, ten years of that is enough.

    Take a husband like my Darby, and fulfill your mission, said sister Joan, home on a visit.

    Can't afford expensive luxuries, Mrs. Coobiddy.

    Turn actress, and immortalize your name, said sister Vashti, striking an attitude.

    I won't.

    Go nurse the soldiers, said my young neighbor, Tom, panting for the tented field.

    I will!

    So far, very good. Here was the will, and plenty of it; now for the way. At first sight not a foot of it appeared; but that didn't matter, for the Periwinkles are a hopeful race. Their crest is an anchor, with three cock-a-doodles crowing atop. They all wear rose-colored spectacles, and are lineal descendants of the inventor of aerial architecture. An hour's conversation on the subject set the whole family in a blaze of enthusiasm. A model hospital was erected, and each member had accepted an honorable post therein. The paternal P. was chaplain, the maternal P. was matron, and all the youthful P.‘s filled the pod of futurity with achievements whose brilliancy eclipsed the glories of the present and the past. Arriving at this satisfactory conclusion, the meeting adjourned; and the fact that Miss Tribulation was available as army nurse went abroad on the wings of the wind.

    In a few days a townswoman heard of my desire, approved of it, and brought about an interview with one of the sisterhood which I wished to join, who was at home on a furlough, and able and willing to satisfy all inquiries. A morning chat with Miss General S. we hear no end of Mrs. Generals, why not a Miss?  produced three results: I felt that I could do the work, was offered a place, and accepted it, promising not to desert, but stand ready to march on Washington at an hour's notice.

    A few days were necessary for the letter containing my request and recommendation to reach headquarters, and another, containing my commission, to return; therefore no time was to be lost; and heartily thanking my pair of friends, I tore home through the December slush as if the rebels were after me, and like many another recruit, burst in upon my family with the announcement-

    I've enlisted!

    An impressive silence followed. Tom, the irrepressible, broke it with a slap on the shoulder and the graceful compliment-

    Old Trib, you're a trump!

    Thank you; then I'll take something: which I did. in the shape of dinner, reeling off my news at the rate of three dozen words to a mouthful; and as every one else talked equally fast, and all together, the scene was most inspiring.

    As boys going to sea immediately become nautical in speech, walk as if they already had their sea legs on, and shiver their timbers on all possible occasions, so I turned military at once, called my dinner my rations, saluted all new comers, and ordered a dress parade that very afternoon. Having reviewed every rag I possessed, I detailed some for picket duty while airing over the fence; some to the sanitary influences of the wash-tub; others to mount guard in the trunk; while the weak and wounded went to the Work-basket Hospital, to be made ready for active service again. To this squad I devoted myself for a week; but all was done, and I had time to get powerfully impatient before the letter came. It did arrive however, and brought a disappointment along with its good will and friendliness, for it told me that the place in the Armory Hospital that I supposed I was to take, was already filled, and a much less desirable one at Hurly-burly House was offered instead.

    That's just your luck, Trib. I'll take your trunk up garret for you again; for of course you won't go, Tom remarked, with the disdainful pity which small boys affect when they get into their teens. I was wavering in my secret soul, but that settled the matter, and I crushed him on the spot with martial brevity-

    It is now one; I shall march at six!

    I have a confused recollection of spending the afternoon in pervading the house like an executive whirlwind, with my family swarming after me, all working, talking, prophesying and lamenting, while I packed my go-abroady possessions, tumbled the rest into two big boxes, danced on the lids till they shut, and gave them in charge, with the direction,

    If I never come back, make a bonfire of them.

    Then I choked down a cup of tea, generously salted instead of sugared, by some agitated relative, shouldered my knapsack — it was only a traveling bag, but do let me preserve the unities-hugged my family three times all round without a vestige of unmanly emotion, till a certain dear old lady broke down upon my neck, with a despairing sort of wail-

    Oh, my dear, my dear, how can I let you go?

    I'll stay if you say so, mother.

    But I don't; go, and the Lord will take care of you.

    Much of the Roman matron's courage had gone into the Yankee matron's composition, and, in spite of her tears, she would have sent ten sons to the war, had she possessed them, as freely as she sent one daughter, smiling and flapping on the door-step till I vanished, though the eyes that followed me were very dim, and the handkerchief she waved was very wet.

    My transit from The Gables to the village depot was a funny mixture of good wishes and good byes, mud-puddles and shopping. A December twilight is not the most cheering time to enter upon a somewhat perilous enterprise, and, but for the presence of Vashti and neighbor Tom, I fear that I might have added a drop of the briny to the native moisture of―The town I left behind me; though I'd no thought of giving out: oh, bless you, no! When the engine screeched Here we are, I clutched my escort in a fervent embrace, and skipped into the car with as blithe a farewell as if going on a bridal tour-though I believe brides don't usually wear cavernous black bonnets and fuzzy brown coats, with a hair-brush, a

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