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Good evening. In this episode, I'll be reading part one how it was lost

from Luisa May Alcott's a modern Cinderella or the little old shoe.

So let your eyes fall heavy and your breath soften as we settle in for a peaceful night's sleep.

How it was lost

Among green new England hills stood an ancient house, many gable,

mossy roofed and quaintly built, but picturesque and pleasant to the eye for a

brook ran babbling through the orchard that encompassed it about. A garden plat stretched upwards

to the whispering birches on the slope, and the patriarchal elms stood sentinel upon the lawn.

As they had stood almost a century ago, when the revolution rolled that way and found the

young. One summer morning when the air was full of country sounds, a mower in the meadow,

black birds by the brook, and the low of the kind upon the hillside, the old house wore its

...