Meg

Greetings,

My name is Margaret March, but most call me Meg.  I’m 17 years old, and poor. If you feel sorry for me, don’t. Granted, I used to feel a bit sorry for myself.  But that was when I was 16. And I think we can all see a difference in a person between those ages. The journey of my life has been all about finding the hidden treasures disguised in a modest home and few luxuries. And I don’t mean trinkets, I mean love. I’ve realized the power of love within a family, and among friends, and that it is so much more fulfilling than all the beautiful things money can buy.  If you would have known me a year ago, you would meet a girl longing to “sit in the lap of luxury”.  Since then, I have actually had some experience of doing just that, in reveling with my rich friends. Honestly, it was emptying.  After a fortnight of being dolled primped, and spoiled, I found that all I really wanted was my home and the people therein. I have ultimately learned that riches cannot define me—I have greater possessions.

Jo

What Ho!

I’m Jo. You thought that was a boy name? Well, everyone thinks I AM a boy—or at least that I act like one. Well, that’s just the kind of 16 year old gal I am: wild, romping, and free. Although I’m no sentimental bloke, you couldn’t call me uncaring. My baby sister, Beth, and I are two of the most different peas you’ll find together in one pod. She’s the most tenderhearted person I do believe you’d ever meet, but I am her guardian. Aside from all of this bold personality of a person I am, father has said that I’ve actually  begun to turn into a lady, and I can’t say I am beginning to sense a change, I suppose. Although I am just as free-spirited as ever, I’m learning to bridle my boldness into ladylike drive. So it seems quite paradoxical, but I do believe I can do it—especially for father.

Beth

Dear,

You may refer to me as your humble, servant, Beth.  I am 14, and am always looking for a way in which to serve. I am such a bumbling fool at times, but I do desperately try to be good. At times my sisters—particularly certain ones—try my patience. Jo says I have a heaping spoonful of it, but sometimes I feel as if that spoonful is dumped at the most inopportune times. But alas, I do try to keep a joyful attitude and please my family—After all Marmee (that’s my mother) and everyone has done for us. And that charming old gentleman—I don’t believe I’ll ever be capable of repaying such a generous gift as my very own piano. Ah, when I dwell on my blessings, life really doesn’t seem so hard after all.

Amy

Monsieurs y Mademoiselles,

I’m honored to meet all of you. I’m newly  13, and more a lady as ever. My older sisters decided to tell about something they wished to acquiesce in their moral achievements. I will too. Recently, the trying lesson I have learned is that vanity doesn’t tend to make me prosper any more than being happy does. So, I’ve resolved to put myself behind me (as much as I can bear to) and look to find happiness in things that actually matter. I just received a BEAUTIFUL turquoise ring from my Aunt March, and do not wear it to show off to the other school girls, as my old self would, but as a reminder to myself not to be vain.

P.S. Meg has informed me that my gramer is prepostrous, and so she edited my writting. I’ll show her somday.