Welcome to Sleep Stories with Steph,
Your go-to podcast that offers you a calm and relaxing transition into a great night's sleep.
It is time to relax and fully let go.
There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Close your eyes and feel yourself sink into the support beneath you and let all the worries of the day drift away.
This is your time and your space.
Take a deep breath in through your nose and let it out with a long sigh.
There is nothing you need to be doing now,
And nowhere you need to go.
Happy listening.
Chapter 2 Continued This is loving our neighbour better than ourselves,
And I like it,
Said Meg,
As the girls set out their presents while their mother was upstairs collecting clothes for the poor hummels.
Not a very splendid show,
But there was a great deal of love done up in the few little bundles,
And the tall vase of red roses,
White chrysanthemums and trailing vines which stood in the middle gave quite an elegant air to the table.
She's coming!
Strike up,
Beth!
Open the door,
Amy!
Three chairs for Mommy!
Cried Jo,
Prancing about while Meg went to conduct Mother to the seat of honour.
Beth played her gayest march,
Amy threw open the door,
And Meg enacted escort with great dignity.
Mrs Marge was both surprised and touched,
And smiled with her eyes full as she examined her presents and read the little notes which accompanied them.
The slippers went on at once,
A new handkerchief was slipped into her pocket,
Scented with Amy's cologne,
The rose was fastened in her bosom and the nice gloves were pronounced a perfect fit.
There was a good deal of laughing and kissing and explaining in the simple loving fashion which makes these home festivals so pleasant at the time,
So sweet to remember long afterwards,
And then all fell to work.
The morning charities and ceremonies took so much time,
The rest of the day was devoted to preparations for the evening festivities.
Not rich enough to afford any great outlay for private performances,
The girls put their wits to work,
And necessity being the mother of invention,
Made whatever they needed.
Very clever were some of their productions,
Pasteboard guitars,
Antique lamps made of old-fashioned butter boots covered with silver paper,
Gorgeous robes of old cotton glittering with tin spangle from a pickle factory,
And armour covered with the same useful diamond-shaped bits left in the sheets when the lids of tin-preserved pots were cut out.
The furniture was used to being turned topsy-turvy,
And the big chamber was the scene of many innocent revels.
No gentlemen were admitted,
So Jo played male parts to her heart's content and took immense satisfaction in a pair of russet leather boots given her by a friend.
These boots,
An old foil and a slash doublet once used by an artist for some picture,
Were Jo's chief treasures,
And appeared on all occasions.
The smallness of the company made it necessary for the two principal actors to take several parts apiece.
They certainly deserve some credit for the hard work they did in learning three or four different parts,
Whisking in and out of various costumes and managing the stage besides.
It was excellent drill for their memories,
A harmless amusement,
And employed many hours which otherwise would have been idle,
Lonely,
Or spent in less profitable society.
On Christmas night,
A dozen girls piled onto the bed,
Which was the dress circle,
And sat before the blue and yellow chintz curtains in a most flattering state of expectancy.
There was a good deal of rustling and whispering behind the curtain,
A trifle of lamp smoke,
And an occasional giggle from Amy who was apt to get hysterical in the excitement of the moment.
Presently a bell sounded,
The curtains flew apart,
And the operatic tragedy began.
A gloomy wood,
According to the one playbill,
Was represented by a few shrubs in pots,
Green bays on the floor and a cave in the distance.
This cave was made with a clotheshorse for a roof,
Bureaus for walls,
And in it was a small furnace in full blast,
With a black spot on it and an old witch bending over it.
The stage was dark and the glow of the furnace had a fine effect,
Especially as real steam issued from the kettle when the witch took off the cover.
A moment was allowed for the first thrill to subside,
Then Hugo the villain stalked in with a clanking sword at his side,
A slouched hat,
Black beard,
Mysterious cloak,
And the boots.
After pacing to and fro in much agitation,
He struck his forehead and burst out in a wild strain,
Singing of his hatred to Rodrigo,
His love for Zara,
And his pleasing resolution to kill the one and win the other.
The gruff tones of Hugo's voice,
With an occasional shout when his feelings overcame him,
Were very impressive,
And the audience applauded the moment he paused for breath.
Bowing with the air of one accustomed to public praise,
He stalled to the cavern and ordered Hagar to come forth with the commanding,
What ho,
Minion,
I need thee!
Out came Meg,
With grey horsehair hanging about her face,
A red and black robe,
A staff,
And cabalistic signs upon her cloak.
Hugo demanded a potion to make Zara adore him and one to destroy Rodrigo.
Hagar,
In a fine,
Dramatic melody,
Promised both and proceeded to call up the spirit who would bring the love filter.
Hither,
Hither from my home,
Airy spirit,
I bid thee come.
Born of roses fed on dew,
Charms and potions canst thou brew.
Bring me here with elfin speed the fragrant filter which I need.
Make it sweet and swift and strong.
Spirit,
Answer now my song.
A soft strain of music sounded,
And then at the back of the cave appeared a little figure in cloudy white,
With glittering wings,
Golden hair,
And a garland of roses on its head.
Waving a wand,
It sang,
Hither I come from my airy home,
Afar in the silver moon.
Take this magic spell and use it well,
Or its power will vanish soon.
And dropping a small gilded bottle at the witch's feet,
The spirit vanished.
Another chant from Hagar produced another apparition,
Not a lovely one,
For with a bang an ugly black imp appeared,
And having croaked a reply,
Tossed a dark bottle at Hugo and disappeared with a mocking laugh.
Having warbled his thanks and put the potions in his boots,
Hugo departed,
And Hagar informed the audience that,
As he had killed a few of her friends in time's pass,
She has cursed him and intends to thwart his plans and be revenged upon him.
Then the curtain fell,
And the audience reposed and ate candy while discussing the merits of the play.
A good deal of hammering went on before the curtain rose again,
But when it came evident what a masterpiece of stage carpentering had been got up,
No one murmured in the delay.
It was truly superb.
A tower rose up to the ceiling.
Halfway up appeared a window with a lamp burning at it,
And behind the white curtain appeared Zara in a lovely blue and silver dress,
Waiting for Rodrigo.
He came in gorgeous array,
With plumed cap,
Red cloak,
Chestnut-love locks,
A guitar,
And,
Of course,
The boots.
Kneeling at the foot of the tower,
He sang a serenade in melting tones.
Zara replied,
And after a musical dialogue consented to fly.
Then came the grand effect of the play.
Rodrigo produced a rope ladder with five steps to it,
Threw up one end and invited Zara to descend.
Timidly,
She crept from her lattice,
Put her hand on Rodrigo's shoulder,
And was about to leap gracefully down when,
Alas,
Alas for Zara,
She forgot her train.
It caught in the window.
The tower tottered,
Bent forward,
Fell with a crash,
And buried the unhappy lovers in the ruins.
A universal shriek arose as the russet boots waved wildly from the wreck,
And a golden head emerged,
Exclaiming,
I told you so,
I told you so.
With wonderful presence of mind,
Don Pedro,
The cruel sire,
Rushed in,
Dragged out his daughter with a hasty aside.
Don't laugh.
Act as if it was all right.
And ordering Rodrigo up,
Banished him from the kingdom with wrath and scorn.
Though decidedly shaken by the fall of the tower upon him,
Rodrigo defied the old gentleman and refused to stir.
This dogless example fired Zara.
She also defied her sire,
And he ordered them both to the deepest dungeons of the castle.
