“The novelist of children…the Thackeray, the Trollope, of the nursery and the schoolroom.”—Henry James
“The best boys—in the literary sense—that we have ever come across.”—London Spectator
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Plumfield, the school where the boys learn "how to help themselves and be useful men,
Jo March, the tomboy heroine of Little Women, has grown up! She returns in this beloved sequel as a young woman with a family of her own. Jo and her husband, Professor Bhaer, open their hearts (and their home) to educate and care for a handful of rowdy yet well-meaning youngsters.
Plumfield, the school where the boys learn "how to help themselves and be useful men," has a spirited student body that includes -- in addition to the Bhaers' two sons -- Nat, an orphaned street musician, cold and frightened when he first appears at the Bhaers' door; business-minded Tommy; Dan, a "wild boy" eventually tamed by love and kindness; and other endearing little mischief-makers.
Outside the classroom, the boys rush headlong from one prank to another -- from playing matador with the family cow to nearly setting the school afire with a smoldering cigar stub. But in the end, they prove to have a positive effect on the lives of the entire Bhaer family.
With tales ranging from tearful to cheerful, this heartwarming unabridged classic promises young readers an exciting and fun-filled visit to nineteenth-century America.
“The novelist of children…the Thackeray, the Trollope, of the nursery and the schoolroom.”—Henry James
“The best boys—in the literary sense—that we have ever come across.”—London Spectator
'Please, sir, is this Plumfield?' asked a ragged boy of the man who opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him.
'Yes. Who sent you?'
'Mr Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady.'
'All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she'll see to you, little chap.'
The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much cheered by the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him – a hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned porch, wide steps, and lights shining in many windows. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within could be for a homeless 'little chap' like him.
'I hope the lady will see to me,' he thought, and gave a timid rap with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin's head.
A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took the letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a nod:
'Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.'
Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about him curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky recess by the door.
The house seemed swarming with boys, who were beguiling the rainy twilight with all sorts of amusements. There were boys everywhere, 'up-stairs and down-stairs and in the lady's chamber', apparently, for various open doors showed pleasant groups of big boys, little boys, and middle-sized boys in all stages of evening relaxation, not to say effervescence. Two large rooms on the right were evidently schoolrooms, for desks, maps, blackboards, and books were scattered about. An open fire burned on the hearth, and several indolent lads lay on their backs before it, discussing a new cricket-ground, with such animation that their boots waved in the air. A tall youth was practising on the flute in one corner, quite undisturbed by the racket all about him. Two or three others were jumping over the desks, pausing, now and then, to get their breath and laugh at the droll sketches of a little wag who was caricaturing the whole household on a blackboard.
In the room on the left a long supper table was seen, set forth with great pitchers of new milk, piles of brown and white bread, and perfect stacks of the shiny gingerbread so dear to boyish souls. A flavor of toast was in the air, also suggestions of baked apples, very tantalizing to one hungry little nose and stomach.
The hall, however, presented the most inviting prospect of all, for a brisk game of tag was going on in the upper entry. One landing was devoted to marbles, the other to checkers, while the stairs were occupied by a boy reading, a girl singing a lullaby to her doll, two puppies, a kitten, and a constant succession of small boys sliding down the banisters, to the great detriment of their clothes and danger to their limbs.
So absorbed did Nat become in this exciting race, that he ventured farther and farther out of his corner; and when one very lively boy came down so swiftly that he could not stop himself, but fell off the banisters, with a crash that would have broken any head but one rendered nearly as hard as a cannonball by eleven years of constant bumping, Nat forgot himself, and ran up to the fallen rider, expecting to find him half-dead. The boy, however, only winked rapidly for a second, then lay calmly looking up at the new face with a surprised, 'Hullo!'
'Hullo!' returned Nat, not knowing what else to say, and thinking that form of reply both brief and easy.
'Are you a new boy?' asked the recumbent youth, without stirring.
'Don't know yet.'
'What's your name?'
'Mine's Tommy Bangs. Come up and have a go, will you?' and Tommy got upon his legs like one suddenly remembering the duties of hospitality.
'Guess I won't, till I see whether I'm going to stay or not,' returned Nat, feeling the desire to stay increase every moment.
'I say, Demi, here's a new one. Come and see to him;' and the lively Thomas returned to his sport with unabated relish.
At his call, the boy reading on the stairs looked up with a pair of big brown eyes, and after an instant's pause, as if a little shy, he put the book under his arm, and came soberly down to greet the newcomer, who found something very attractive in the pleasant face of this slender, mild-eyed boy.
'Have you seen Aunt Jo?' he asked, as if that was some sort of important ceremony.
'I haven't seen anybody yet but you boys; I'm waiting,' answered Nat.
'Did Uncle Laurie send you?' proceeded Demi, politely, but gravely.
'Mr Laurence did.'
'He is Uncle Laurie; and he always sends nice boys.'
Nat looked gratified at the remark, and smiled, in a way that made his thin face very pleasant. He did not know what to say next, so the two stood staring at one another in friendly silence, till the little girl came up with her doll in her arms. She was very like Demi, only not so tall, and had a rounder, rosier face, and blue eyes.
'This is my sister, Daisy,' announced Demi, as if presenting a rare and precious creature.
The children nodded to one another; and the little girl's face dimpled with pleasure, as she said affably:
'I hope you'll stay. We have such good times here; don't we, Demi?'
'Of course, we do: that's what Aunt Jo has Plumfield for.'
'It seems a very nice place indeed,' observed Nat, feeling that he must respond to these amiable young persons.
'It's the nicest place in the world, isn't it, Demi?' said Daisy, who evidently regarded her brother as authority on all subjects.
'No, I think Greenland, where the icebergs and seals are, is more interesting. But I'm fond of Plumfield, and it is a very nice place to be in,' returned Demi, who was interested just now in a book on Greenland. He was about to offer to show Nat the pictures and explain them, when the servant returned, saying with a nod toward the parlor door:
'All right; you are to stop.'
'I'm glad; now come to Aunt Jo.' And Daisy took him by the hand with a pretty protecting air, which made Nat feel at home at once.
Demi returned to his beloved book, while his sister led the newcomer into a back room, where a stout gentleman was frolicking with two little boys on the sofa, and a thin lady was just finishing the letter which she seemed to have been re-reading.
'Here he is, aunty!' cried Daisy.
'So this is my new boy? I am glad to see you, my dear, and hope you'll be happy here,' said the lady, drawing him to her, and stroking back the hair from his forehead with a kind hand and a motherly look, which made Nat's lonely little heart yearn toward her.
She was not at all handsome, but she had a merry sort of face that never seemed to have forgotten certain childish ways and looks, any more than her voice and manner had; and these things, hard to describe but very plain to see and feel, made her a genial, comfortable kind of person, easy to get on with, and generally 'jolly', as boys would say. She saw the little tremble of Nat's lips as she smoothed his hair, and her keen eyes grew softer, but she only drew the shabby figure nearer and said, laughing:
'I am Mother Bhaer, that gentleman is Father Bhaer, and these are the two little Bhaers. Come here, boys, and see Nat.'
The three wrestlers obeyed at once; and the stout man, with a chubby child on each shoulder, came up to welcome the new boy. Rob and Teddy merely grinned at him, but Mr Bhaer shook hands, and pointing to a low chair near the fire, said, in a cordial voice:
'There is a place all ready for thee, my son; sit down and dry thy wet feet at once.'
'Wet? So they are! My dear, off with your shoes this minute, and I'll have some dry things ready for you in a jiffy,' cried Mrs Bhaer, bustling about so energetically that Nat found himself in the cosy little chair, with dry socks and warm slippers on his feet, before he would have had time to say Jack Robinson, if he had wanted to try. He said 'Thank you, ma'am,' instead; and said it so gratefully that Mrs Bhaer's eyes grew soft again, and she said something merry, because she felt so tender, which was a way she had.
'There are Tommy Bangs' slippers; but he never will remember to put them on in the house; so he shall not have them. They are too big; but that's all the better; you can't run away from us so fast as if they fitted.'
'I don't want to run away, ma'am.' And Nat spread his grimy little hands before the comfortable blaze, with a long sigh of satisfaction.
'That's good! Now I am going to toast you well, and try to get rid of that ugly cough. How long have you had it, dear?' asked Mrs Bhaer, as she rummaged in her big basket for a strip of flannel.
'All winter. I got cold, and it wouldn't get better, somehow.'
'No wonder, living in that damp cellar with hardly a rag to his poor dear back!' said Mrs Bhaer, in a low tone to her husband, who was looking at the boy with a skillful pair of eyes that marked the thin temples and feverish lips, as well as the hoarse voice and frequent fits of coughing that shook the bent shoulders under the patched jacket.
'Robin, my man, trot up to Nursey, and tell her to give thee the cough-bottle and the liniment,' said Mr Bhaer, after his eyes had exchanged telegrams with his wife's.
Nat looked a little anxious at the preparations, but forgot his fears in a hearty laugh, when Mrs Bhaer whispered to him, with a droll look:
'Hear my rogue Teddy try to cough. The syrup I'm going to give you has honey in it; and he wants some.'
Little Ted was red in the face with his exertions by the time the bottle came, and was allowed to suck the spoon after Nat had manfully taken a dose and had the bit of flannel put about his throat.
These first steps toward a cure were hardly completed when a great bell rang, and a loud tramping through the hall announced supper. Bashful Nat quaked at the thought of meeting many strange boys, but Mrs Bhaer held out her hand to him, and Rob said, patronizingly, 'Don't be 'fraid; I'll take care of you.'
Twelve boys, six on a side, stood behind their chairs, prancing with impatience to begin, while the tall flute-playing youth was trying to curb their ardor. But no one sat down till Mrs Bhaer was in her place behind the teapot, with Teddy on her left, and Nat on her right.
'This is our new boy, Nat Blake. After supper you can say how do you do? Gently, boys, gently.'
As she spoke everyone stared at Nat, and then whisked into their seats, trying to be orderly and failing utterly. The Bhaers did their best to have the lads behave well at mealtimes, and generally succeeded pretty well, for their rules were few and sensible, and the boys, knowing that they tried to make things easy and happy, did their best to obey. But there are times when hungry boys cannot be repressed without real cruelty, and Saturday evening, after a half-holiday, was one of those times.
'Dear little souls, do let them have one day in which they can howl and racket and frolic to their hearts' content. A holiday isn't a holiday without plenty of freedom and fun; and they shall have full swing once a week,' Mrs Bhaer used to say, when prim people wondered why banister-sliding, pillow fights, and all manner of jovial games were allowed under the once decorous roof of Plumfield.
It did seem at times as if the aforesaid roof was in danger of flying off, but it never did, for a word from Father Bhaer could at any time produce a lull, and the lads had learned that liberty must not be abused. So, in spite of many dark predictions, the school flourished, and manners and morals were insinuated, without the pupils exactly knowing how it was done.
Nat found himself very well off behind the tall pitchers, with Tommy Bangs just around the corner, and Mrs Bhaer close by to fill up plate and mug as fast as he could empty them.
'Who is that boy next the girl down at the other end?' whispered Nat to his young neighbor under cover of a general laugh.
'That's Demi Brooke. Mr Bhaer is his uncle.'
'What a queer name!'
'His real name is John, but they call him Demi-John, because his father is John too. That's a joke, don't you see?' said Tommy, kindly explaining. Nat did not see, but politely smiled, and asked, with interest:
'Isn't he a very nice boy?'
'I bet you he is; knows lots and reads like anything.'
'Who is the fat one next him?'
'Oh, that's Stuffy Cole. His name is George, but we call him Stuffy 'cause he eats so much. The little fellow next Father Bhaer is his boy Rob, and then there's big Franz his nephew; he teaches some, and kind of sees to us.'
'He plays the flute, doesn't he?' asked Nat as Tommy rendered himself speechless by putting a whole baked apple into his mouth at one blow.
Tommy nodded, and said, sooner than one would have imagined possible under the circumstances, 'Oh, don't he, though? And we dance sometimes, and do gymnastics to music. I like a drum myself, and mean to learn as soon as ever I can.'
'I like a fiddle best; I can play one too,' said Nat, getting confidential on this attractive subject.
'Can you?' and Tommy stared over the rim of his mug with round eyes, full of interest. 'Mr Bhaer's got an old fiddle, and he'll let you play on it if you want to.'
'Could I? Oh, I would like it ever so much. You see, I used to go round fiddling with my father, and another man, till he died.'
'Wasn't that fun?' cried Tommy, much impressed.
'No, it was horrid; so cold in winter, and hot in summer. And I got tired; and they were cross sometimes; and I didn't get enough to eat.' Nat paused to take a generous bite of gingerbread, as if to assure himself that the hard times were over; and then he added regretfully: 'But I did love my little fiddle, and I miss it. Nicolo took it away when father died, and wouldn't have me any longer, 'cause I was sick.'
'You'll belong to the band if you play good. See if you don't.'
'Do you have a band here?' Nat's eyes sparkled.
'Guess we do; a jolly band, all boys; and they have concerts and things. You just see what happens tomorrow night.'
After this pleasantly exciting remark, Tommy returned to his supper, and Nat sank into a blissful reverie over his full plate.
Mrs Bhaer had heard all they said, while apparently absorbed in filling mugs, and overseeing little Ted, who was so sleepy that he put his spoon in his eye, nodded like a rosy poppy, and finally fell fast asleep, with his cheek pillowed on a soft bun. Mrs Bhaer had put Nat next to Tommy, because that roly-poly boy had a frank and social way with him, very attractive to shy persons. Nat felt this, and had made several small confidences during supper, which gave Mrs Bhaer the key to the new boy's character, better than if she had talked to him herself.
In the letter which Mr Laurence had sent with Nat, he had said:
Here is a case after your own heart. This poor lad is an orphan now, sick and friendless. He has been a street-musician; and I found him in a cellar, mourning for his dead father, and his lost violin. I think there is something in him, and have a fancy that between us we may give this little man a lift. You cure his overtasked body, Fritz help his neglected mind, and when he is ready I'll see if he is a genius or only a boy with a talent which may earn his bread for him. Give him a trial, for the sake of your own boy,
'Of course we will!' cried Mrs Bhaer, as she read the letter; and when she saw Nat she felt at once that, whether he was a genius or not, here was a lonely, sick boy who needed just what she loved to give, a home and motherly care. Both she and Mr Bhaer observed him quietly; and in spite of ragged clothes, awkward manners, and a dirty face, they saw much about Nat that pleased them. He was a thin, pale boy, of twelve, with blue eyes, and a good forehead under the rough, neglected hair; an anxious, scared face, at times, as if he expected hard words, or blows; and a sensitive mouth that trembled when a kind glance fell on him; while a gentle speech called up a look of gratitude, very sweet to see. 'Bless the poor dear, he shall fiddle all day long if he likes,' said Mrs Bhaer to herself, as she saw the eager, happy expression on his face when Tommy talked of the band.
So, after supper, when the lads flocked into the schoolroom for more 'high jinks', Mrs Jo appeared with a violin in her hand, and after a word with her husband, went to Nat, who sat in a corner watching the scene with intense interest.
'Now, my lad, give us a little tune. We want a violin in our band, and I think you will do it nicely.'
She expected that he would hesitate; but he seized the old fiddle at once, and handled it with such loving care, it was plain to see that music was his passion.
'I'll do the best I can, ma'am,' was all he said; and then drew the bow across the strings, as if eager to hear the dear notes again.
Excerpted from Little Men by Louisa May Alcott. Copyright © 2014 Louisa May Alcott. Excerpted by permission of Hesperus Press Limited.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Louisa May Alcott was born in Germantown, Pennsylvania, in 1832, and grew up in Concord, Massachusetts. She was the second of four daughters of Abba May and Bronson Alcott, a prominent transcendentalist thinker and social reformer whose idealistic preoccupations caused him to neglect his family’s practical needs. Louisa began to shoulder her family’s financial burdens at a young age—as a domestic, as a teacher, and as a writer, producing everything from sketches of her Civil War nursing experiences to pseudonymous, lurid thrillers. Fame and fortune came with the publication of Little Women in 1868-1869, a novel based upon her childhood experiences. This was followed by other books in the Little Women Series, all of them enormously popular: An Old-Fashioned Girl in 1870, Little Men in 1871, Eight Cousins in 1875, its sequel, Rose in Bloom, in 1876, Under the Lilacs in 1878, Jack and Jill in 1880, and finally, in 1886, Jo’s Boys, the sequel to Little Men. Among her other books was the autobiographical novel Work: A Story of Experience in 1873. She was active in the women’s suffrage and temperance movements until her death in 1888.
John Matteson holds doctoral degrees from Harvard and Columbia Universities. He is a professor of English at John Jay College of Criminal Justice in New York City and is deputy director of the Leon Levy Center for Biography. Matteson is the author of The Lives of Margaret Fuller and Eden's Outcasts: The Story of Louisa May Alcott and Her Father. For the latter book, he was awarded the 2008 Pulitzer Prize for Biography.
J. T. Barbarese is the author of three books of poems, including A Very Small World, and a translation of Euripedes’ The Children of Heracles. His poems have appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, Boulevard, The Georgia Review, The Denver Quarterly, The Cortland Review and Poetry, and his literary journalism in numerous publications, from The Journal of Modern Literature to the New York Times. He is an assistant professor of English and creative writing at Rutgers University, where he teaches graduate and undergraduate courses in poetry, fiction, playwriting, Romanticism and children’s literature.
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This was the most sweet and endearing book i have ever read. I was glued to it for a week! I love the cute kids romance and i am 13 and would love to live at a place like this!!!!!!! This book is AWESOME SO GET IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! But read Little women first so you can understand whats going on. Every time i read yhis book i feel like either crying or just laughing really loud cuz its so awesome cute funny sweet GOOD!!! Totally five stars!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Nobody'll belive me but I've read Little Men about 50 times. It's a great book.
Other that some typos and a few weird markings this was a good book, i hope you will agree with me when you read this. I loved little women. So i love this book. Search bangers and mash. A very good dish.
It is a good book over all but i have to say the typos made it very hard to read and understand. Many times i had to guess what they were saying.
Greatest book ever and I mean it.
The "Classic Starts" books, of which *Little Men* is a part, are excellent; they do high-quality redactions of classic novels that makes these stories accessible to your emergent reader. The chapters are shortened and difficult vocabulary changed, but the spirit here of Louisa Mae Alcott's writing remains. Most importantly, so does the story itself, which is absorbing my son. If you know *Little Women,* this is the sequel, when Jo is grown up and running Plumfield as a girl's school. I'm an English professor and can't recommend the "Classic Start" series enough--the stories have an integrity about them that one just doesn't find in the series-fiction for this age group. I also appreciate that the "Classic Starts" series doesn't pitch or market these classic works to a specific gender. *Little Men* is an excellent story to begin with, made better by the clever editing of the series!
Little Men is my favorite of Louisa May Alcott's books. I love it's prequel, Little Women. However, Little Men is more frought with fun, mischievous events, and childlike pleasures. It's a great book to read if you want something to divert you and get your mind off of the stress in your life for at time! Since I work with children, I appreicated the fun of the book, and the fact that the main characters were almost all under the age of fifteen!
Little Men is a great book. What I like most about it is that the book is so detailed. For the chapter Crops, it tells you exactly what crops let's say Tommy, or Nan; Daisy, Demi; etc. grew. A #1 book for people who like Little Women. Definetly an A+.
I really enjoyed reading this book. It was a great sequel to Little Women. The charaters are great and the story is quite enjoyable. I highly recommend it.
She watched silent in the bushes. Her cat smell and fear was rolloing off her so thick a blind nosed animal could smell her.
Paced, anticipating Thorn's arrival.
I like the chapter about "Naughty Nan". She sounds awfully interesting to be with!
Review below mine you are the worst reviewer ever and you have HORIBLE taste you SUCK
How do you know it was a him who wrote the passage.
This is the most hilarious book ever. I want to read it again. I love it. Get this book you will love it to.
This is a cool book. I agree that you should read little women first because it will help you understand a couple more things. The little girl Daisy is adorable.