To see them dance was ` quite a landscape ' , to use a Teddyism . I had a very happy New Year , after all , and when I thought it over in my room , I felt as if I was getting on a little in spite of my many failures , for I 'm cheerful all the time now , work with a will , and take more interest in other people than I used to , which is satisfactory . Bless you all ! Ever your loving ... Jo CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR FRIEND Though very happy in the social atmosphere about her , and very busy with the daily work that earned her bread and made it sweeter for the effort , Jo still found time for literary labors . The purpose which now took possession of her was a natural one to a poor and ambitious girl , but the means she took to gain her end were not the best . She saw that money conferred power , money and power , therefore , she resolved to have , not to be used for herself alone , but for those whom she loved more than life . The dream of filling home with comforts , giving Beth everything she wanted , from strawberries in winter to an organ in her bedroom , going abroad herself , and always having more than enough , so that she might indulge in the luxury of charity , had been for years Jo 's most cherished castle in the air . The prize-story experience had seemed to open a way which might , after long traveling and much uphill work , lead to this delightful chateau en Espagne . But the novel disaster quenched her courage for a time , for public opinion is a giant which has frightened stouter-hearted Jacks on bigger beanstalks than hers . Like that immortal hero , she reposed awhile after the first attempt , which resulted in a tumble and the least lovely of the giant 's treasures , if I remember rightly . But the ` up again and take another ' spirit was as strong in Jo as in Jack , so she scrambled up on the shady side this time and got more booty , but nearly left behind her what was far more precious than the moneybags . She took to writing sensation stories , for in those dark ages , even all-perfect America read rubbish . She told no one , but concocted a ` thrilling tale ' , and boldly carried it herself to Mr. Dashwood , editor of the Weekly Volcano . She had never read Sartor Resartus , but she had a womanly instinct that clothes possess an influence more powerful over many than the worth of character or the magic of manners . So she dressed herself in her best , and trying to persuade herself that she was neither excited nor nervous , bravely climbed two pairs of dark and dirty stairs to find herself in a disorderly room , a cloud of cigar smoke , and the presence of three gentlemen , sitting with their heels rather higher than their hats , which articles of dress none of them took the trouble to remove on her appearance . Somewhat daunted by this reception , Jo hesitated on the threshold , murmuring in much embarrassment ... `` Excuse me , I was looking for the Weekly Volcano office . I wished to see Mr. Dashwood . '' Down went the highest pair of heels , up rose the smokiest gentleman , and carefully cherishing his cigar between his fingers , he advanced with a nod and a countenance expressive of nothing but sleep . Feeling that she must get through the matter somehow , Jo produced her manuscript and , blushing redder and redder with each sentence , blundered out fragments of the little speech carefully prepared for the occasion . `` A friend of mine desired me to offer -- a story -- just as an experiment -- would like your opinion -- be glad to write more if this suits . ''
While she blushed and blundered , Mr. XXXXX had taken the manuscript , and was turning over the leaves with a pair of rather dirty fingers , and casting critical glances up and down the neat pages .
America Beth Dashwood Espagne Resartus Teddyism Volcano beanstalks first moneybags