too much of my looks and hate to
work, but won't any more, if I can help it."

"I'll try and be what he loves to call me, 'a little woman' and not be
rough and wild, but do my duty here instead of wanting to be somewhere
else," said Jo, thinking that keeping her temper at home was a much
harder task than facing a rebel or two down South.

Beth said nothing, but wiped away her tears with the blue army sock and
began to knit with all her might, losing no time in doing the duty that
lay nearest her, while she resolved in her quiet little soul to be all
that Father hoped to find her when the year brought round the happy
coming home.

Mrs. March broke the silence that followed Jo's words, by saying in her
cheery voice, "Do you remember how you used to play Pilgrims Progress
when you were little things? Nothing delighted you more than to have
me tie my piece bags on your backs for burdens, give you hats and
sticks and rolls of paper, and let you travel through the house from
the cellar, which was the City of Destruction, up, up, to the housetop,
where you had all the lovely things you could collect to make a
Celestial City."

"What fun it was, especially going by the lions, fighting Apollyon, and
passing through the valley where the hob-goblins were," said Jo.

"I liked the place where the bundles fell off and tumbled downstairs,"
said Meg.

"I don't remember much about it, except that I was afraid of the cellar
and the dark entry, and always liked the cake and milk we had up at the
top. If I wasn't too old for such things, I'd rather like to play it
over again," said Amy, who began to talk of renouncing childish things
at the mature age of twelve.

"We never are too old for this, my dear, because it is a play we are
playing all the time in one way or another. Our burdens are here, our
road is before us, and the longing for goodness and happiness is the
guide that leads us through many troubles and mistakes to the peace
which is a true Celestial City. Now, my little pilgrims, suppose you
begin again, not in play, but in earnest, and see how far on you can
get before Father comes home."

"Really, Mother? Where are our bundles?" asked Amy, who was a very
literal young lady.

"Each of you told what your burden was just now, except Beth. I rather
think she hasn't got any," said her mother.

"Yes, I have. Mine is dishes and dusters, and envying girls with nice
pianos, and being afraid of people."

Beth's bund