is in bliss with her gentle John; and May busy over her pictures.
I have plans simmering, but must sweep and dust and wash my
dishpans a while longer till I see my way."

Meanwhile the little women paper and decorate the walls, May in
her enthusiasm filling panels and every vacant place with birds
and flowers and mottoes in old English.

"August. Much company to see the new house. All seem to be glad
that the wandering family is anchored at last. We won't move again
for twenty years" (prophetic soul to name the period so exactly)
"if I can help it. The old people need an abiding place, and now
that death and love have taken two of us away, I can, I hope, soon
manage to take care of the remaining four."

It is one of the ironies of fate that the fame of Bronson Alcott
should hang upon that of his gifted daughter. It was not until she
made her great success with "Little Women" in 1868 that the
outside world began to take a vivid interest in the father. From
that time his lectures and conversations began to pay; he was
seized anew with the desire to publish, and from 1868 until the
beginning of his illness in 1882 he printed or reprinted nearly
his entire works,--some eight or ten volumes; it is no
disparagement to the kindly old philosopher that his books were
bought mainly on the success of his daughter's.

The Summer School of Philosophy was the last ambitious attempt of
a spirit that had been struggling for half a century to teach
mankind.

The small chapel of plain, unpainted boards, nestling among the
trees on the hillside, has not been opened since 1888. It stands a
pathetic memento to a vision. Twenty years ago the "school" was an
overshadowing reality,--to-day it is a memory, a minor incident in
the progress of thought, a passing phase in intellectual
development. Many eminent men lectured there, and the scope of the
work is by no means indicated by the humble building which
remains; but, while strong in conversation and in the expression
of his own views, Alcott was not cut out for a leader. All reports
indicate that he had a wonderful facility in the off-hand
expression of abstruse thought, but he had no faculty whatsoever
for so ordering and systematizing his thoughts as to furnish
explosive material for belligerent followers; the intellectual
ammunition he put up was not in the convenient form of cartridges,
nor even in kegs or barrels, but just poured out on the ground,
where it disintegrated before i