Did you ever, Gentlest of Readers, read the Highly Moral Tale? But of course you have. I am sure that you were properly brought up and of course every properly brought up young person in our period read the instructive fable or, if she rebelled thereat, at least could not escape from having it read to her. This point being established we may next proceed to the query: "Did you ever yead the immortal works of Louisa Alcott?" Being an American author her influence may not have permeated your nurseries, although she had a considerable following outside her country, Or perhaps you are sufficiently wary not to give yourself away by dating yourself by the vogue of passing literary lights. I suspect Louisa was beginning to be considered archaic when I read her. I explain my knowledge of her stories by the fact that J always had a turn for the classics.
At all events, I did read her books, all of them, stretching almost across one shelf in the bookcase. What is more I adored them. There was a time when I would have blushed for the infan tuation, but since blushes have gone out of fashion TI shall make no excuses for the pleasure I took in her innocent—_sentimentalities. There was, however, one story which IT always resented, and this, fortunately enough, brings me back to the subject of our discussion—viz, namely and to wit—Disorder.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.