Join Host Bree Carlile as she reads the seventeenth chapter of Little Men.

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My name is Brie Carlyle and I love to read and wanted to share my passion with listeners like you.

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Today we'll be continuing Little Men by Louisa May Alcott.

Chapter 17 composition Day hurry up, boys.

It's 03:00, and Uncle Fritz likes us to be punctual, you know, said Franz one Wednesday afternoon, as a bell rang and a stream of literary looking young gentlemen with books and paper in their hands were seen going toward the museum.

Tommy was in the schoolroom, bending over his desk, much bedobed with ink, flushed with the ardor of inspiration, and in a great hurry, as usual, for easy going bangs.

Never was ready till the very last minute.

As Franz passed the door, looking up laggards, Tommy gave one last blot and flourish and parted out the window, waving his paper to dry as he went.

NAN followed, looking very important with a large roll in her hand, and Demi escorted Daisy, both evidently brimful of some delightful secret.

The museum was all in order, and the sunshine among the hopvines made pretty shadows on the floor as it peeped through the great window.

On one side sat Mr.

And Mrs.

Bear, on the other was a little table on which the compositions were laid as soon as read, and in a large semicircle sat the children on camp stools, which occasionally shut up and let the sitter down, thus preventing any stiffness in the assembly.

As it took too much time to have all read, they took turns, and on this Wednesday the younger pupils were the chief performers while the elder ones listened with condescension and criticized freely.

Ladies first, so NAN may begin, said Mr.

Bear.

When the settling of stools and rustling of papers had subsided, NAN took her place beside the little table and with a preliminary giggle read the following interesting essay on the sponge.

The sponge, my friends, is a most useful and interesting plant.

It grows on rocks under the water and is a kind of seaweed.

I believe people go and pick it and dry it and wash it because little fish and insects live in the holes of the sponge.

I found shells in my new one and sand.

Some are very fine and soft.

Babies are washed with them.

A sponge has many uses.

I'll relate some of them, and I hope my friends will remember what I say.

One use is to wash the face.

I don't like it myself, but I do it because I wish to be clean.

Some people don't, and they are dirty.

Here the eye of the reader rested sternly upon D*** and Dolly, who quailed under it and instantly resolved to scrub themselves virtuously on all occasions.

Another use is to wake people up.

I allude to boys particularly.

Another pause after the long word to enjoy the smothered laugh that went round the room.

Some boys do not get up when called, and Marianne squeezes the water out of a wet sponge on their faces and it makes them so mad they wake up here.

The laugh broke out, and Emile said, as if he had been hit seems to me you're wandering from the subject.

No, I ain't.

We're to write about vegetables or animals, and I'm doing both.

For boys are animals, aren't they?

Cried NAN, and undaunted by the indignant no shouted at her.

She calmly proceeded.

One more interesting thing is done with sponges and this is when doctors put ether on it and hold it to people's noses when they have teeth out.

I shall do this when I am bigger and give ether to the sick so they will go to sleep and not feel me cut off their legs and arms.

I know somebody who killed cats with it, called out Demi, but was promptly crushed by Dan, who upset his camp stool and put a hat over his face.

I will not be interrupted, said NAN, frowning upon the unseemly scrimmagers.

Order was instantly restored and the young lady closed her remarks as follows my composition has three morals, my friends.

Somebody groaned, but no notice was taken of the insult.

First is to keep your faces clean.

Second, get up early.

Third, when the ether sponges put over your nose, breathe hard and don't kick, and your teeth will come out easy.

I have no more to say, and Miss NAN sat down amid tumultuous applause.

That is a very remarkable composition.

Its tone is high, and there's a good deal of humor in it.

Very well done, NAN.

Now, Daisy, mr.

Bear smiled at one young lady as he beckoned the other daisy colored prettily as she took her place and said in her modest little voice I'm afraid you won't like mine.

It isn't nice and funny like Nan's, but I couldn't do any better.

We always like yours, posey, said Uncle Fritz, and a gentle murmur from the boys seemed to confirm the remark.

Less encouraged, Daisy read her little paper, which was listened to with respectful attention.

The Cat the cat is a sweet animal.

I love them very much.

They are clean and pretty and catch rats and mice and let you pet them and are fond of you if you are kind.

They are very wise and can find their way anywhere.

Little cats are called kittens and are dear things.

I have two named Huz and Buzz and their mother is Topaz because she has yellow eyes.

Uncle told me a pretty story about a man named Mahomet.

He had a nice cat and when she was asleep on his sleeve and he wanted to go away, he cut off the sleeve so as not to wake her up.

I think he was a kind man.

Some cats cash fish.

So do I.

Cried Teddy, jumping up, eager to tell about his trout.

Hush.

Said his mother, setting him down again as quickly as possible for orderly.

Daisy hated to be interrupted as NAN expressed it.

I read about one who used to do it very slyly.

I tried to make Topaz, but she did not like the water and scratched me.

She does like tea, and when I play in my kitchen she pats the teapot with her paw till I give her some.

She is a fine cat.

She eats apple pudding and molasses.

Most cats do not.

There's a first raider called out Nat, and Daisy retired, pleased with the praise of her friend.

Demi looks so impatient.

We must have him up at once or he won't hold out, said Uncle Fritz, and Demi skipped up with Alacrity.

Mine is a poem, he announced in a tone of triumph, and read his first effort in a loud and solemn voice.

I write about the butterfly.

It is a pretty thing and flies about like the birds, but it does not sing.

First it is a little grub, and then it is a nice yellow cocoon, and then the butterfly eats its way out.

Soon they live on dew and honey.

They do not have any hive, they do not sting like wasps and bees and hornets and to be as good as they are, we should strive.

I should like to be a beautiful butterfly, all yellow and blue and green and red but I should not like to have Dan put camphor on my poor little head.

This unusual burst of genius brought down the house and Demi was obliged to read it again, a somewhat difficult task, as there was no punctuation whatever, and the little poet's breath gave out before he got to the end of some of the long lines.

He will be a Shakespeare yet, said Aunt Joe, laughing as if she would die for this poetic gym reminded her of one of her own, written at the age of ten and beginning gloomily.

I wish I had a quiet tomb beside a little rill where birds and bees and butterflies would sing upon the hill.

Come on, Tommy.

If there's as much ink inside your paper as there is outside, it'll be a long composition, said Mr.

Bear, when Demi had been induced to tear himself from his poem and sit down.

It isn't a composition.

It's a letter.

You see, I forgot all about it being my turn till after school and then I didn't know what to have and there wasn't time to read up.

So I thought you wouldn't mind by taking a letter that I wrote to my grandma.

It's got something about birds in it, so I thought it would do with this long excuse.

Tommy plunged into a sea of ink and floundered through pausing now and then to decipher one of his own flourishes.

My dear Grandma, I hope you are well.

Uncle James sent me a pocket rifle.

It is a beautiful little instrument of killing, shaped like this here.

Tommy displayed a remarkable sketch of what looked like an intricate pump or the inside of a small steam engine.

44 are the sights, six is a false stock that fits in at a.

Three is the trigger and two is the c***.

It loads at the breach and fires with great force and straightness.

I'm going out shooting squirrels soon.

I shot several fine birds for the museum.

They had speckled breasts and Dan liked them very much.

He stuffed them tip top and they sit on the tree quite natural.

Only one looks a little tipsy.

We had a Frenchman working here the other day and Asia called his name so funnily that I will tell you about it.

His name was Germaine.

First she called him Jerry, but we laughed at her and she changed it to Jeremiah but ridicule was the result.

So it became Mr.

Germany.

But ridicule, having been again resumed.

It became Jerry Monn, which it has remained ever since.

I do not write often.

I am so busy.

But I think of you often and sympathize with you and sincerely hope you get on as well as can be expected without me.

Your affectionate grandson, Thomas Buckminster Bangs.

P.

S.

If you come across any postage stamps, remember me.

NB.

Loved all and a great deal to Aunt Elmira.

Does she make any nice plum cakes now?

P.

S mrs.

Bar sends her respects.

P.

S.

And so would Mr.

B if he knew I was an act to write.

NB father's going to give me a watch on my birthday.

I'm glad, as at present I have no means of telling time and am often late at school P-S-I hope to see you soon.

Don't you wish to send for me?

TBB as each postscript was received with a fresh laugh from the boys, by the time he came to the 6th and last, tommy was so exhausted that he was glad to sit down and wipe his ready face.

I hope the dear old lady will live through it, said Mr Bear, undercover of the noise.

We won't take any notice of the broad hint given in that last P.

S.

The letter will be quite as much as she can bear without a visit from Tommy, answered Mrs Jo, remembering that the old lady usually took to her bed after a visitation from her irrepressible grandson.

Now me, said Teddy, who had learned a bit of poetry and was so eager to say it, that he had been bobbing up and down during the reading and could no longer be restrained.

I'm afraid he'll forget it if he waits and I've had a deal of trouble teaching him, said his mother.

Teddy trotted to the rostrum, dropped a curtsy and nodded his head at the same time, as if anxious to suit everyone.

Then, in his baby voice and putting the emphasis on the wrong words, he said his voice all in one breath little drops of water, little drains of sand make a might oakum in a peasant land, little words of kindness poking every day make a home a heaven and hep us on the way.

Clapping his hands at the end, he made another double salutation and then ran to hide his head in his mother's lap, quite overcome by the success of his piece, for the applause was tremendous.

D*** and Dolly did not write, but were encouraged to observe the habits of animals and insects and report what they saw.

D*** liked this and always had a great deal to say.

So when his name was called, he marched up and, looking at the audience with his bright, confiding eyes, told his little story so earnestly that no one smiled at his crooked body because the straight soul shone through it beautifully.

I've been watching Dragonflies and I read about them in Dan's book and I'll try and tell you what I remember.

There's lots of them flying round on the pond, all blue with big eyes and sort of lace wings.

Very pretty.

I caught one and looked at him and I think he was the handsomest insect I ever saw.

They catch littler creatures than they are to eat and have a queer kind of hook thing that folds up when they ain't hunting.

It likes the sunshine and dances round all day.

Let me see, what else was there to tell about?

Oh, I know the eggs are laid in the water and go down to the bottom and are hatched in the mud.

Little ugly things come out of them and I can't say the name, but they're brown and keep having new skins and getting bigger and bigger only think it takes them two years to be a dragonfly.

Now this is the curiousest part of it, so you listen tight, for I don't believe you know it when it is ready.

It knows somehow when the ugly grubby thing climbs up out of the water on a flag or a bull rush and bursts open its back come.

I don't believe that, said Tommy, who was not an observant boy and Ridley thought D*** was making up.

It does burst open its back, don't it?

D*** appealed to Mr.

Bear who nodded a very decided affirmative to the little speaker's great satisfaction.

Well, out comes the dragonfly, all whole and he sits in the sun sort of coming alive, you know, and he gets strong and then he spreads his pretty wings and flies away in the air and never is a grub anymore.

That's all I know.

But I shall watch and try to see him do it.

For I think it's splendid to turn into a beautiful dragonfly, don't you?

D*** had told his story well and when he described the flight of the newborn insect had waved his hands and looked up as if he saw and wanted to follow it.

Something in his face suggested to the minds of the elder listeners the thought that someday little D*** would have his wish and after years of helplessness and pain would climb up into the sun some happy day and leave his poor little body behind him.

Find a new lovely shape in a fairer world than this.

Mrs.

Joe drew him to her side and said with a kiss on his thin cheek that is a sweet little story, dear.

And you remembered it wonderfully well.

I shall write and tell your mother all about it.

And D*** sat on her knee contentedly, smiling at the praise and resolving to watch well and catch the dragonfly in the act of leaving its old body for the new and see how he did it.

Dolly had a few remarks to make upon the duck and made them in a sing song tone for he had learned it by heart and thought it a great plague to do it at all.

While ducks are hard to kill, men hide and shoot at them and have tame ducks to quack and make the wild ones come where the men can fire at them.

They have wooden ducks made too, and they sail round and the wild ones come to see them.

They are stupid.

I think our ducks are very tame.

They eat a great deal and go poking round in the mud and water.

They don't take good care of their eggs, but them spoil and mine don't.

Cried Tommy.

Well, some people's do, Silas said.

So hens take good care of little ducks, only they don't like to have them go in the water and make a great fuss.

But the little ones don't care a bit.

I like to eat ducks with stuffing in them and lots of applesauce.

I have something to say about owls, began Nat, who had carefully prepared a paper upon this subject with some help from Dan.

Owls have big heads, round eyes, hooked bills and strong claws.

Some are gray, some white, some black and yellowish.

Their feathers are very soft and stick out a great deal.

They fly very quietly and hunt bats, mice, little birds and such things.

They build nests and barns, hollow trees, and some take the nests of other birds.

The great horned owl has two eggs bigger than a hens, and reddish brown.

The tawny owl has five eggs, white and smooth, and this is the kind that hoots at night.

Another kind sounds like a child crying.

They eat mice and bats whole, and the parts that they cannot digest they make into little balls and spit out my gracious.

How funny man was heard to observe.

They cannot see by day, and if they get out into the light they go flapping round, half blind, and the other birds chase and peck at them as if they were making fun.

The horndowl is very big, most as big as the eagle.

It eats rabbits, rats, snakes and birds and lives in rocks and old tumble down houses.

They have a good many cries and scream like a person being choked and say WA, and it scares people at night in the woods.

The white owl lives by the sea and in cold places and looks something like a hawk.

There's a kind of owl that makes holes to live in, like moles.

It is called the burrowing owl and is very small.

The barn owl is the commonest kind and I've watched one sitting in a hole in a tree, looking like a little gray cat with one eye shut and the other open.

He comes out at dusk and sits round waiting for the bats.

I caught one and here he is with that Nat suddenly produced from inside his jacket a little downy bird who blinked and ruffled his feathers, looking very plump and sleepy and scared.

Don't touch him, he's going to show off, said Nat, displaying his new pet with great pride.

First he put a cocked hat on the bird's head and the boys laughed at the funny effect.

Then he added a pair of paper spectacles and that gave the owl such a wise look that they shouted with merriment.

The performance closed with making the bird angry and seeing him cling to a handkerchief upside down, pecking and clucking, as Rob called it.

He was allowed to fly after that and saddling himself on the bunch of pine cones over the door, where he sat staring down at the company with an air of sleepy dignity that amused them very much.

Have you anything for us, George?

Asked Mr.

Bear when the room was still again.

Well, I read and learned ever so much about Moles, but I declare, I've forgotten every bit of it, except that they dig holes to live in, that you catch them by pouring water down, and that they can't possibly live without eating very often and stuffy.

Sat down, wishing he had not been too lazy to write out his valuable observations, for a general smile went round when he mentioned the last of the three facts which lingered in his memory.

Then we are done for today, began Mr.

Bear.

But Tommy called out in a great hurry, no, we ain't.

Don't you know we must give the thing?

And he winked violently as he made an eyeglass of his fingers.

Bless my heart, I forgot.

Now is your time, Tom.

Mr.

Bear dropped into his seat again, while all the boys but Dan looked mightily tickled at something.

Nat, Tommy and Demi left the room and speedily returned with a little red morocco box set forth in state on Mrs.

Joe's best silver salvur.

Tommy bore it, and still escorted by Nat and Demi, marched up to the unsuspecting Dan, who stared at them as if he thought they were going to make fun of him.

Tommy had prepared an elegant and impressive speech for the occasion.

But when the minute came, it all went out of his head, and he just said straight from his kindly boyish heart, here, old fellow, we all wanted to give you something to kind of pay for what happened a while ago and to show how much we like you for being such a trump.

Please take it and have a jolly good time with it.

Dan was so surprised he could only get as red as the little box and mutter thank you, boys.

As he fumbled to open it.

But when he saw what was inside, his face lighted up, and he seized the long desired treasure sang so enthusiastically that everyone was satisfied whose language was anything but polished.

What a stunner.

I say, you fellows irregular bricks to give me this.

It's just what I wanted.

Give us your paw, Tommy.

Many paws were given and heartily shaken, for the boys were charmed with Dan's pleasure and crowded round him to shake hands and expatiate on the beauties of their gift.

In the midst of this pleasant chatter, dan's eye went to Mrs.

Jo, who stood outside the group enjoying the scene with all her heart.

No, I had nothing to do with it.

The boys got it up all themselves, she said, answering the grateful look that seemed to thank her for that happy moment.

Dan smiled and said in a tone that only she could understand it's, you all the same.

Making his way through the boys, he held out his hand, first to her and then to the good professor who was beaming benevolently on his flock.

He thanked them both with a silent, hearty squeeze.

He gave the kind hands that held him up and led him into the safe refuge of a happy home.

Not a word was spoken, but they felt all he would say, and little Teddy expressed his pleasure for them as he leaned from his father's arm to hug the boy and said in his baby way, my dude Danny, everybody loves him.

Now come here.

Show off your spy glass, Dan, and let us see some of your magnified, Polywogs and animalquims, as you call them, said Jack, who felt so uncomfortable during the scene that he would have slipped away if Emil had not kept him so.

I will take a squint at that and see what you think of it, said Dan, glad to show off his precious microscope.

He held it over a beetle that happened to be lying on the table, and Jack bent down to take his squint, but looked up with an amazed face, saying, my eye.

What nippers the old thing has got.

I see now why it hurts so confoundedly when you grab a doorbug and he grabs back again.

He winked at me.

Cried NAN, who had poked her head under Jack's elbow and got the second peep.

Everyone took a look, and then Dan showed them the lovely plumage on a moth swing, the four feathery corners to a hair, the veins on a leaf hardly visible to the naked eye but like a thick net through the wonderful little glass, the skin on their own fingers looking like queer hills and valleys.

A cobweb like a bit of coarse sewing silk and the sting of a bee.

It's like the fairy spectacles in my storybook, only more curious, said Demi, enchanted with the wonders he saw.

Dan is a magician now, and he could show you many miracles going on all around you, for he has two things needful patience and a love of nature.

We live in a beautiful and wonderful world, Demi, and the more you know about it, the wiser and the better you will be.

This little glass will give you a new set of teachers, and you may learn fine lessons from them, if you will, said Mr.

Bear, glad to see how interested the boys were in the matter.

Could I see anybody's soul with this microscope if I looked hard?

Asked Demi, who was much impressed with the power of the bit of glass.

No, dear, it's not powerful enough for that, and never can be made.

So you must wait a long while before your eyes are clear enough to see the most invisible of God's wonders.

But looking at the lovely things you can see will help you to understand the lovelier things you cannot see, answered Uncle Fritz with his hand on the boy's head.

Well, Daisy and I both think that if there are any angels, their wings look like that of butterflies as we see it through the glass, only more soft and gold.

Believe it if you like, and keep your own little wings as bright and beautiful, only don't fly away for a long time yet.

No, I won't.

And Demi kept his word.

Goodbye, my boys.

I must go now, but I leave you with our new professor of natural history.

And Mrs.

Jo went away well pleased with that composition day.

Thank you for joining Bite at a Time books today while we read a bite of one of your favorite classics.

Again, my name is Brie Carlyle and I hope you come back tomorrow for the next bite of Little Men.

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