Literary Lessons

As some of you know, I've been reading to my heart's content of late, making the most of this precious term break. On some nights, I find myself so engrossed in the blessed reading that I stay up till 5am! So far, I've completed "Pride & Prejudice" and "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott (which I actually covered in Lit for sec sch. We all hated it then, but reading it now is actually very enjoyable for you appreciate it in a new light). It's all been a huge delight....and is just the thing I need to fill up my 'tank' before I suffer from burn-out. I've forgotten how much I miss reading good Literature!

This litte excerpt from "Little Women" describes when dear, sweet little Beth is struck with the dreaded scarlett fever. Within this passage, you encounter such a rich tapestry of emotions- grief from the gloom of illness, the fraility of hope, comfort from warm friendship, and the sweet glimmers of bashful, youthful love. Many have teared over this dark passage, and felt such indignation for Beth's death. Many have also felt exasperation towards Jo for not recipocrating dear Laurie's affections. I can't understand it still! Why did she have to refuse poor Laurie?

But I must admit, it displays great integrity on Louisa May Alcott's part, for it is an honest reflection of real life. Life can be harsh, good people do die and hearts will be broken. For-

"Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days mut be dark and sad and dreary"

Through it all, I've learnt many worthy lessons from these realistically flawed characters who have learnt how to bear their crosses, to overcome their situations and their faults.

I too, shall learn how to trod on faithfully and keep the light shining. :)

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An excerpt from the chapter "Dark Days" in "Litte Women" by Lousia May Alcott:

"...Laurie came in with a letter, saying that Mr. March was mending again. Jo read it thankfully, but the heavy weight did not seem lifted off her heart, and her face was so full of misery that Laurie asked quickly, "What is it? is Beth worse?"

"I've sent for Mother," said Jo, tugging at her rubber boots with a tragic expression.

"Good for you, Jo! Did you do it on your own responsibility?" asked Laurie, as he seated her in the hall chair and took off the rebellious boots, seeing how her hands shook.

"No, the doctor told us to."

"Oh, Jo, it's not so bad as that?" cried Laurie, with a startled face.

"Yes, it is; she doesn't know us, she doesn't even talk about the flocks of green doves, as she cals the vine leaves on the wall; she doesn't look like my Beth, and there's nobody to help us bear it; Mother and Father both gone, and God seems so far away I can't find Him."

As the tears streamed fast down poor Jo's cheeks, she stretched out her hand in a helpless sort of way, as if groping in the dark, and Laurie took it in his, whispering as well as he could with a lump in his throat, "I'm here. Hold on to me, Jo, dear!"

She could not speak, but she did "hold on," and the warm grasp of the friendly human hand comforted her sore heart, and seemed to lead her nearer to the Divine arm which alone could uphold her in her trouble. Laurie longed to say something tender and comfortable, but no fitting words came to him, so he stood silently, gently stroking her bent head as her mother used to do. It was the best thing he could have done, far more soothing than the most eloquent words, for Jo felt the unspoken sympathy, and in the silence learned the sweet solace which affection administers to sorrow. Soon she dried the tears which relieved her, and looked up with a grateful face.

"Thank you, Teddy, I'm better now. I don't feel so forlorn, and will try to bear it if it comes."

"Keep hoping for the best, that will help you, Jo. Soon your mother will be here, and then everything will be right."

"I'm so glad Father is better; now she won't feel so bad about leaving him. Oh, me! It does seem as if all the troubles came in a heap, and I got the heaviest part on my shoulders," sighed Jo, spreading her wet handkerchief over her knees to dry.

"Doesn't Meg pull fair?" asked Laurie, looking indignant.

"Oh yes, she tries to, but she can't love Bethy as I do, and she won't miss her as I shall. Beth is my conscience, and I can't give her up. I can't! I can't!"

Down went Jo's face into the wet handkerchief, and she cried despairingly, for she had kept up bravely till now and never shed a tear. Laurie drew his hand across his eyes, but could not speak till he had subdued the choky feeling in his throat and steadied his lips. It might be unmanly, but he couldn't help it, and I am glad of it. Presently, as Jo's sobs quieted, he said hopefully, "I don't think she will die; she's so good, and we all love her so much, I don't believe God will take her away yet."