3) ***




Produced by Al Haines.




[Illustration: Cover]



                            LULU'S LIBRARY.


                                   BY

                           LOUISA M. ALCOTT,


    AUTHOR OF "LITTLE WOMEN," "AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL," "LITTLE MEN,"
         "EIGHT COUSINS," "ROSE IN BLOOM," "UNDER THE LILACS,"
             "JACK AND JILL," "HOSPITAL SKETCHES," "WORK, A
                STORY OF EXPERIENCE," "MOODS, A NOVEL,"
                 "PROVERB STORIES," "SILVER PITCHERS,"
                         "AUNT JO'S SCRAP-BAG."



                                VOL. I.

                           A CHRISTMAS DREAM.
                           THE CANDY COUNTRY.
                             NAUGHTY JOCKO.
                          THE SKIPPING SHOES.
                               COCKYLOO.
                            ROSY'S JOURNEY.
                           HOW THEY RAN AWAY.
                             THE FAIRY BOX.
                          A HOLE IN THE WALL.
                            THE PIGGY GIRL.
                            THE THREE FROGS.
                               BAA!  BAA!



                                BOSTON:
                           ROBERTS BROTHERS.
                                 1886.




                           _Copyright, 1885,_
                          BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT.



                           University Press:
                    JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.




                                PREFACE.


All but three of these stories were told to my little niece during our
quiet hour before bedtime.  They became such favorites with her and her
friends that I wrote them down in several small blue books, and called
them LULU'S LIBRARY.  Having nothing else to offer this year, I have
collected them in one volume as a Christmas gift to my boys and girls
from their old friend

AUNT JO.
CONCORD, August, 1885.




                               CONTENTS.

      I. A Christmas Dream
     II. The Candy Country
    III. Naughty Jocko
     IV. The Skipping Shoes
      V. Cockyloo
     VI. Rosy's Journey
    VII. How They Ran Away
   VIII. The Fairy Box
     IX. A Hole in the Wall
      X. The Piggy Girl
     XI. The Three Frogs
    XII. Baa!  Baa!




[Illustration: She actually stood in "a grove of Christmas trees."--PAGE
30.]



                                   I.

                A CHRISTMAS DREAM, AND HOW IT CAME TRUE.


"I'm so tired of Christmas I wish there never would be another one!"
exclaimed a discontented-looking little girl, as she sat idly watching
her mother arrange a pile of gifts two days before they were to be
given.

"Why, Effie, what a dreadful thing to say! You are as bad as old
Scrooge; and I'm afraid something will happen to you, as it did to him,
if you don't care for dear Christmas," answered mamma, almost dropping
the silver horn she was filling with delicious candies.

"Who was Scrooge?  What happened to him?" asked Effie, with a glimmer of
interest in her listless face, as she picked out the sourest lemon-drop
she could find; for nothing sweet suited her just then.

"He was one of Dickens's best people, and you can read the charming
story some day. He hated Christmas until a strange dream showed him how
dear and beautiful it was, and made a better man of him."

"I shall read it; for I like dreams, and have a great many curious ones
myself.  But they don't keep me from being tired of Christmas," said
Effie, poking discontentedly among the sweeties for something worth
eating.

"Why are you tired of what should be the happiest time of all the year?"
asked mamma, anxiously.

"Perhaps I shouldn't be if I had something new.  But it is always the
same, and there isn't any more surprise about it.  I always find heaps
of goodies in my stocking.  Don't like some of them, and soon get tired
of those I do like. We always have a great dinner, and I eat too much,
and feel ill next day.  Then there is a Christmas tree somewhere, with a
doll on top, or a stupid old Santa Claus, and children dancing and
screaming over bonbons and toys that break, and shiny things that are of
no use. Really, mamma, I've had so many Christmases all alike that I
don't think I _can_ bear another one."  And Effie laid herself flat on
the sofa, as if the mere idea was too much for her.

Her mother laughed at her despair, but was sorry to see her little girl
so discontented, when she had everything to make her happy, and had
known but ten Christmas days.

"Suppose we don't give you _any_ presents at all,--how would that suit
you?" asked mamma, anxious to please her spoiled child.

"I should like one large and splendid one, and one dear little one, to
remember some very nice person by," said Effie, who was a fanciful
little body, full of odd whims and notions, which her friends loved to
gratify, regardless of time, trouble, or money; for she was the last of
three little girls, and very dear to all the family.

"Well, my darling, I will see what I can do to please you, and not say a
word until all is ready.  If I could only get a new idea to start with!"
And mamma went on tying up her pretty bundles with a thoughtful face,
while Effie strolled to the window to watch the rain that kept her
in-doors and made her dismal.

"Seems to me poor children have better times than rich ones.  I can't go
out, and there is a girl about my age splashing along, without any maid
to fuss about rubbers and cloaks and umbrellas and colds.  I wish I was
a beggar-girl."

"Would you like to be hungry, cold, and ragged, to beg all day, and
sleep on an ash-heap at night?" asked mamma, wondering what would come
next.

"Cinderella did, and had a nice time in the end.  This girl out here has
a basket of scraps on her arm, and a big old shawl all round her, and
doesn't seem to care a bit, though the water runs out of the toes of
her boots.  She goes paddling along, laughing at the rain, and eating a
cold potato as if it tasted nicer than the chicken and ice-cream I had
for dinner. Yes, I do think poor children are happier than rich ones."

"So do I, sometimes.  At the Orphan Asylum to-day I saw two dozen merry
little souls who have no parents, no home, and no hope of Christmas
beyond a stick of candy or a cake. I wish you had been there to see how
happy they were, playing with the old toys some richer children had sent
them."

"You may give them all mine; I'm so tired of them I never want to see
them again," said Effie, turning from the window to the pretty
baby-house full of everything a child's heart could desire.

"I will, and let you begin again with something you will not tire of, if
I can only find it."  And mamma knit her brows trying to discover some
grand surprise for this child who didn't care for Christmas.

Nothing more was said then; and wandering off to the library, Effie
found "A Christmas Carol," and curling herself up in the sofa corner, it
all before tea.  Some of it she did not understand; but she laughed and
cried over many parts of the charming story, and felt better without
knowing why.

All the evening she thought of poor Tiny Tim, Mrs. Cratchit with the
pudding, and the stout old gentleman who danced so gayly that "his legs
twinkled in the air."  Presently bed-time arrived.

"Come, now, and toast your feet," said Effie's nurse, "while I do your
pretty hair and tell stories."

"I 'll have a fairy tale to-night, a very interesting one," commanded
Effie, as she put on her blue silk wrapper and little fur-lined slippers
to sit before the fire and have her long curls brushed.

So Nursey told her best tales; and when at last the child lay down under
her lace curtains, her head was full of a curious jumble of Christmas
elves, poor children, snow-storms, sugar-plums, and surprises.  So it is
no wonder that she dreamed all night; and this was the dream, which she
never quite forgot.

She found herself sitting on a stone, in the middle of a great field,
all alone.  The snow was falling fast, a bitter wind whistled by, and
night was coming on.  She felt hungry, cold, and tired, and did not know
where to go nor what to do.

"I wanted to be a beggar-girl, and now I am one; but I don't like it,
and wish somebody would come and take care of me.  I don't know who I
am, and I think I must be lost," thought Effie, with the curious
interest one takes in one's self in dreams.

But the more she thought about it, the more bewildered she felt.  Faster
fell the snow, colder blew the wind, darker grew the night; and poor
Effie made up her mind that she was quite forgotten and left to freeze
alone.  The tears were chilled on her cheeks, her feet felt like
icicles, and her heart died within her, so hungry, frightened, and
forlorn was she.  Laying her head on her knees, she gave herself up for
lost, and sat there with the great flakes fast turning her to a little
white mound, when suddenly the sound of music reached her, and starting
up, she looked and listened with all her eyes and ears.

Far away a dim light shone, and a voice was heard singing.  She tried to
run toward the welcome glimmer, but could not stir, and stood like a
small statue of expectation while the light drew nearer, and the sweet
words of the song grew clearer.

      From our happy home
      Through the world we roam
    One week in all the year,
      Making winter spring
      With the joy we bring,
    For Christmas-tide is here.

      Now the eastern star
      Shines from afar
    To light the poorest home;
      Hearts warmer grow,
      Gifts freely flow,
    For Christmas-tide has come.

      Now gay trees rise
      Before young eyes,
    Abloom with tempting cheer;
      Blithe voices sing,
      And blithe bells ring,
    For Christmas-tide is here.

      Oh, happy chime,
      Oh, blessed time,
    That draws us all so near!
      "Welcome, dear day,"
      All creatures say,
    For Christmas-tide is here.


A child's voice sang, a child's hand carried the little candle; and in
the circle of soft light it shed, Effie saw a pretty child coming to her
through the night and snow.  A rosy, smiling creature, wrapped