A second story was, of course, written for the Saturday Evening Gazette.  And now Louisa was catching a glimpse of fame.  She says, “One of the memorial moments of my life is that in which, as I trudged to school on a wintry day, my eye fell upon a large yellow poster with these delicious words, ’Bertha, a new tale by the author of The Rival Prima Donnas, will appear in the Saturday Evening Gazette.’  I was late; it was bitter cold; people jostled me; I was mortally afraid I should be recognized; but there I stood, feasting my eyes on the fascinating poster, and saying proudly to myself, in the words of the great Vincent Crummles, ‘This, this is fame!’ That day my pupils had an indulgent teacher; for, while they struggled with their pot-hooks, I was writing immortal works; and when they droned out the multiplication table, I was counting up the noble fortune my pen was to earn for me in the dim, delightful future.  That afternoon my sisters made a pilgrimage to behold this famous placard, and finding it torn by the wind, boldly stole it, and came home to wave it like a triumphal banner in the bosom of the excited family.  The tattered paper still exists, folded away with other relics of those early days, so hard and yet so sweet, when the first small victories were won, and the enthusiasm of youth lent romance to life’s drudgery.”

Finding that there was money in sensational stories, she set herself eagerly to work, and soon could write ten or twelve a month.  She says in Little Women: “As long as The Spread Eagle paid her a dollar a column for her ‘rubbish,’ as she called it, Jo felt herself a woman of means, and spun her little romances diligently.  But great plans fermented in her busy brain and ambitious mind, and the old tin kitchen in the garret held a slowly increasing pile of blotted manuscript, which was one day to place the name of March upon the roll of fame.”

But sensational stories did not bring much fame, and the conscientious Louisa tired of them.  A novel, Moods, written at eighteen, shared nearly the same fate as Flower Fables.  Some critics praised, some condemned, but the great world was indifferent.  After this, she offered a story to Mr. James T. Fields, at that time editor of the Atlantic Monthly, but it was declined, with the kindly advice that she stick to her teaching.  But Louisa Alcott had a strong will and a brave heart, and would not be overcome by obstacles.

The Civil War had begun, and the school-teacher’s heart was deeply moved.  She was now thirty, having had such experience as makes us very tender toward suffering.  The perfume of natures does not usually come forth without bruising.  She determined to go to Washington and offer herself as a nurse at the hospital for soldiers.  After much official red tape, she found herself in the midst of scores of maimed and dying, just brought from the defeat at Fredericksburg.