Music Welcome to Snewscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us at snoozecast.com and if you enjoy our show, please share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by Quaker-Colored Creatures. Tonight we'll read the next chapter of Good Wives written by Luisa May Alcott, titled On the Shelf. This is also known as the second half of the little women novel and is considered the 30-Ath chapter as part of that work as a whole. The concept of being on the shelf in reference to the chapter title speaks to the Victorian era's rigid views on marriage and womanhood. Women who remained unmarried beyond a certain age were often

seen as having lost their value in society. However, through Joe, Alcott subtly challenges this notion by showing that a woman's worth isn't defined by marriage, but by her passions, relationships and personal growth.

In fact, Alcott once wrote, I'd rather be a free spencer and paddle my own canoe. In the last chapter, new impressions, Laurie and Amy spent time together in France, where Laurie, recovering from his rejection by Joe, began to see Amy

in a new light.

Amy, more mature and poised, challenged Laurie to take life more seriously, and their friendship started to shift toward something deeper. Let's get cozy.

Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. In France, the young girls have a dull time of it, till they're married, when Vivloli-Berté becomes their motto. In America, as everyone knows, girls early sign the Declaration of Independence and enjoy their freedom with Republicans' est. But the young matrons usually abdicate with the first heir to the throne, and go into a seclusion almost as close as a French nunnery, though by no means as quiet. Whether they like it or not, they are virtually put upon the shelf as soon as the wedding excitement is over and most of them might exclaim as did a very pretty woman the other day. I'm as handsome as ever, but no one takes any notice of me because I'm married." Not being a bell or even a fashionable lady, Meg did not experience this affliction till her babies were a year old. For in her little world, primitive customs prevailed, and she found herself more admired and beloved than ever. As she was a womanly little woman, the maternal instinct was very strong, and she was entirely absorbed in her children to the utter exclusion of everything and everybody else. Day and night she brooded over them with tireless devotion and anxiety, leaving John to the tender mercies of the help for an Irish lady now presided over the kitchen department. Being a domestic man, John decidedly missed the wifely attentions he had been accustomed to receive, but as he adored his babies, he cheerfully relinquished his comfort for a time, supposing, with masculine ignorance, that peace would soon be restored. But three months passed, and there was no return of repose. Meg looked worn and nervous. The babies absorbed every minute of her time. The house was neglected, and Kitty, the cook, who took life asy, kept him on short commons. When he went out in the morning, he was bewildered by small commissions for the captive mama. If he came galean at night, eager to embrace his family, he was quenched by a hush. They are just asleep after worrying all day. If he proposed a little amusement at home, no, it would disturb the babies. If he hinted at a lecture or concert, he was answered with a reproachful look and a decided, we've might children for pleasure never. His sleep was broken by infant whales and visions of a phantom figure pacing noiselessly to and fro in the watches of the night. His meals were interrupted by the frequent flight of the presiding genius who deserted him, half-helped, if a muffled chirp sounded from the nest above. And when Then he read his paper of an evening, Demi's collic got into the shipping list, and Daisy's fall affected the price of stocks, for Mrs. Brook was only interested in domestic news. The poor man was very uncomfortable, for the children had bereft him of his wife. Home was merely a nursery, and the perpetual hushing made him feel like a brutal intruder whenever he entered the sacred precincts of Babyland. He bore it very patiently for six months, and, when no signs of amendment appeared, he did what other paternal exiles do, tried to get a little comfort elsewhere. Scott had married and gone to housekeeping not far off, and John fell into the way of running over for an hour or two of an evening, when his own parlour was empty, and his own wife singing lullabies that seemed to have no end. Mrs. Scott was a lively, pretty girl, with nothing to do but be agreeable, and she performed transmission most successfully. The parlor was always bright and attractive, the chessboard ready, the piano and tune, plenty of gay gossip, and a nice little supper set forth in tempting style. John would have preferred his own fireside if it had not been so lonely, but as it was, he gratefully took the next best thing and enjoyed his neighbor's society. May rather approved of the new arrangement at first and found it a relief to know that John was having a good time instead

of dozing in the parlor or trampling about the house and waking the children. But buy and buy when the teething worry was over and the idols went to sleep at proper hours, leaving Mama a time to rest. She began to miss John and find her work basket, dull company. When he was not sitting opposite in his old dressing gown, comfortably scorching his slippers on the fender. She would not ask him to stay at home, but felt injured because he did not know that she wanted him, without being told, entirely forgetting the many evenings he had waited for her in vain. She was nervous and worn out with watching and worried, and in that unreasonable frame of mind, which the best of mothers occasionally experience when domestic cares oppress them, one of exercise robs them of cheerfulness, and too much devotion to that idol of American women, the teapot, makes them feel as if they were all nerve and no muscle. Yes, she would say, looking in the glass, I'm getting old and ugly. John doesn't find me interesting any longer, so he leaves his faded wife and goes to see his pretty neighbor who has no incumbrances. Well, the babies love me. They don't care if I'm pale and thin, and haven't time to crimp my hair. They are my comfort. And someday John will see what I've gladly sacrificed for them. Won't he, my precious? To which pathetic appeal Daisy would answer with a coup, or Demi with a crow, and Meg would put by her lamentations for a maternal revel, which soothed her solitude for the time being. But the pain increased as politics absorbed John, who was always running over to discuss interesting points with Scott, quite unconscious that Meg missed him. a word did she say, however, till her mother found her in tears one day and insisted on knowing what the matter was. For Meg's drooping spirits had not escaped her observation. I wouldn't tell anyone except you, mother, but I really do need advice for if John goes on so much longer I might as well be widowed," replied Mrs. Brooke, drawing her tears on Daisy's bib with an injured air. Go on how, my dear. Ask her mother anxiously.

He's away all day, and at night, when I want to see him, he is continually going over to the Scots. It isn't fair that I should have the hardest work and never any amusement. Men are very selfish, even the best of them. So are women, don't blame John till you see where you are wrong yourself. But it can't be right for him to neglect me. Don't you neglect him? Why, mother, I thought you'd take my part. So I do, as far as sympathizing goes,

but I think the fault is yours, Meg. I don't see how. Let me show you. Did John ever neglect you,

as you call it, while you made it a point to give him your society of an evening, his only leisure time? No, but I can't do it now with two babies to tend. I think you could dear, and I think you ought. May I speak quite freely, and will you remember that it's mother who blames as well as mother who sympathizes?

Indeed, I will speak to me as if I were little Meg again. I often feel as if I needed teaching more than ever since these babies

looked to me for everything.

Meg drew her low chair beside her mother's and, with a little interruption in either lap, the two women rocked and talked lovingly together, feeling that the tie of motherhood made them more one than ever. You have only made the mistake that most young women make. Forgotten your duty to your husband and your love for your children. A very natural and forgivable mistake, Meg, but one that had better be remedied before you take to different ways.

For children should draw you nearer than ever, not separate you, as if they were all yours, and John had nothing to do but support them. I've seen it for some weeks, but have not spoken, feeling sure it would come right in time. I'm afraid it won't.

If I ask him to stay, he'll think I'm jealous, and I wouldn't insult him by such an idea. He doesn't see that I want him, and I don't know how to tell him without words. it it so pleasant he won't want to go away, my dear, he is longing for his little home, but it isn't home without you and you are always in the nursery. Audentive be there? Not all the time. Too much confinement makes you nervous and then you are unfitted for everything. Besides, you owe something to John as well as to the babies. Don't neglect husband for children. Don't shut him out of the nursery. But teach him how to help in it. His place is there as well as yours and the children need him. Let him feel that he has his part to do, and he will do it gladly and faithfully, and it will be better for you all. You really think so, Mother? I know it, Mac, for I've tried it, and I seldom give advice unless I've proved it practically. When you and Joe were little, I went on just as you are, feeling as if I didn't do my duty unless I devoted myself wholly to you. Poor father took to his books, after I had refused all offers to help and left me to try my experimental loan. I struggled along as well as I could, but Joe was too much for me. I nearly spoiled her by indulgence. You were poorly, and I worried about you till I fell sick myself. Then Father came to the rescue, quietly managed everything, and made Himself so helpful that I saw my mistake, and never have been able to get on without Him since. That is the secret of our home happiness. He does not let business wean him from the little cares and duties that affect us all, and I try not to let domestic worries destroy my interest in his pursuits. Each do our part alone in many things, but at home we work together, always. It is so, Mother, and my great wish is to be to my husband and children what you have been to yours. Show me how. I'll do anything you say. You always were my my docile daughter. Well dear, if I were you, I'd let John have more to do with the management of Demi, for the boy needs training, and it's none too soon to begin. Then I do what I have often proposed. Let Hannah come and help you. She is a capital nurse, and you may trust the precious babies to her while you do more housework. You need to exercise. Hannah would enjoy the rest, and John would find his wife again. Go out more. Keep cheerful as well as busy. For you are the sunshine maker of the family, and if you get dismal, there is no fair weather. Then, I try to take an interest in whatever John likes. Talk with him. Let him read to you. Exchange ideas, and help each other in that way. Don't shut yourself up in a band box because you are a woman, but understand what is going on and educate yourself to take your part in the world's work for it all affects you and yours. John is so sensible. I'm afraid he'll think I look stupid if I ask questions about politics and things. I don't believe he would. Love covers a multitude of sins, and of whom could you ask more freely than of him? Try it, and see if he doesn't find your society far more aggriable Mrs. Scott's sub-erce. I will. Poor John, I'm afraid I have neglected him sadly, but I thought I was right, and he never said anything. He tried not to be selfish, but he has felt rather forlorn, I fancy. This is just the time, Meg, when young married people are apt to grow apart, and the very time when they ought to be most together, for the first tenderness soon wears off, unless care is taken to preserve it, and no time is so beautiful and precious to parents as the first years of the little lives given them to train. Don't let John be a stranger to the babies, for they will do more to keep him safe and happy in this world of trial and temptation than anything else. And through them, you will learn to know and love one another as you should. Now, dear, goodbye. Think over Mother's Preachment. Act upon it if it seems good. And God bless you all. Meg did think it over. Found it good. And acted upon it, though the first attempt was not made exactly as she planned to have it. Of course the children tyrannized over her, and ruled the house as so on as if they found out that kicking and squalling brought them whatever they wanted.

Mamal was an abject slave to their caprices, but Papal was not so easily subjugated, and occasionally afflicted his tender spouse by an attempt at paternal discipline with his of his son.

For Demi inherited a trifle of his sire's firmness of character, we won't call it obstinacy, and when he made up his little mind to have or to do anything, all the King's horses and all the King's men could not change that pertenacious little mind. Bama thought the deer too young to be taught to conquer his prejudices, but Papa believed that it never was too soon to learn obedience. So, Master Demi early discovered that when he undertook tole with Parpar, he always got the worst of it. Yet, like the Englishman, Baby respected the man who conquered him, and loved the father whose grave no-no was more impressive than all mamas loved Pats. A few days after the talk with her mother, Meg resolved to try a social evening with John. So she ordered a nice supper, set the parlor in order, dressed herself prickly, and put the children to bed early, that nothing should interfere with her experiment. But, unfortunately, Demi's most unconquerable prejudice was against going to bed. And that night he decided to go on a rampage. So poor Meg sung and rocked and told stories and tried every sleep provoking while she could devise. But all in vain, the big eyes wouldn't shut. And long after Daisy had gone to Bilo, like the chubby little bunch of good nature she was. Naughty Demi lay staring at the light, with the most discouragingly wide awake expression of countenance. Will Demi lie still like a good boy?

While Mama runs down and gives poor Papah his tea? As Meg, as the hall door softly closed, and the well-known step went tiptoeing into the dining room. Me has tea," said Demi, preparing to join in the revel. No, but I'll save you some little cakeys for breakfast if you'll go by by like Daisy. Will you, lovey? Yes!

And Demi shut his eyes tight, as if to catch sleep and hurry the desired day. Taking advantage of the propitious moment, Meg slipped away and ran down to greet her husband with a smiling face and the little blue bow in her hair, which was his special admiration. He saw it at once and said, with pleased surprise, why little mother, how gay we are tonight. Do you expect company? you, dear. Is it a birthday anniversary or anything? No. I'm tired of being doubty, so I dressed up as a change. You always make yourself nice for table, no matter how tired you are. So why should an eye when I have the time?"

"'I do it out of respect to you, my dear,' said Old Fashion John. "'Ditto, ditto, Mr. Brooke,' laughed Meg, looking young and pretty again as she nodded to him over the teapot. Well, it's all together delightful and like old times. This tastes right. I drink your health dear. And John sipped his tea with an air of reposful rapture, which was a very short duration, however, for, as he put down his cup, the door handle rattled mysteriously, and a little voice was heard, saying impatiently, Hope he die. Me's tonnin'. It's that naughty boy.

I told him to go to sleep all- I'll be done, Miss Tommen."

It's that naughty boy.

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