well qualified and in which he was
both happy and admirably successful; Anna, the eldest sister, was
happily married; May, the youngest, was making a reputation as an
artist; and Louisa, in perfect health, having in May before, "walked
to Boston, twenty miles, in five hours, and attended an evening
party," was becoming a regular contributor to the _Atlantic_, and
receiving $50, $75, and sometimes $100 for her stories.

In these happy conditions, Miss Alcott sat down to a more ambitious
attempt at authorship and wrote the first rough draft of "Moods," a
"problem novel" that provoked much discussion and, though it caused
her more trouble than any other of her books, was always dearest to
her heart. It was written in a kind of frenzy of poetic enthusiasm.
"Genius burned so fiercely," she says, "that for four weeks, I wrote
all day and planned nearly all night, being quite possessed by my
work. I was perfectly happy, and seemed to have no wants. Finished the
book, or a rough draft of it, and put it away to settle." It was not
published till four years later. Even in this year of good luck, there
seem to have been some privations, as she records being invited to
attend a John Brown meeting and declining because she "had no good
gown." She sends a poem instead.

The breaking out of the Civil War stirred Miss Alcott's soul to its
depths, and we have numerous references to its progress in her
journal. "I like the stir in the air," she writes, "and long for
battle like a war-horse when he smells powder." Not being permitted to
enlist as a soldier, she went into a hospital in Washington as a
nurse. Her experiences are graphically and dramatically told in
"Hospital Sketches." That book, chiefly made from her private letters,
met the demand of the public, eager for any information about the
great war; it was widely read and, besides putting $200 in her purse,
gave her a reputation with readers and publishers. Many applications
for manuscript came in and she was told that "any publisher this side
of Baltimore would be glad to get a book" from her. "There is a sudden
hoist," she says, "for a meek and lowly scribbler. Fifteen years of
hard grubbing may come to something yet." Her receipts for the year
1863, amounted to $600 and she takes comfort in saying that she had
spent less than one hundred on herself.

The following year, after having been twice re-written, "Moods" was
brought out and, thanks to the "Hospital Sketches," had a