Juvenile Fiction
- Action & Adventure 179
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- Biographical 1
- Boys / Men 133
- Classics 1
- Fairy Tales & Folklore 11
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- General 262
- Girls & Women 187
- Historical 141
- Holidays & Celebrations 72
- Humorous Stories 2
- Imagination & Play 3
- Legends, Myths, & Fables 48
- Lifestyles 253
- Mysteries, Espionage, & Detective Stories 12
- Nature & the Natural World 3
- Religious 81
- School & Education 127
- Science Fiction, Fantasy, & Magic 12
- Short Stories 6
- Sports & Recreation 31
- Toys, Dolls, & Puppets 10
- Transportation 44
Juvenile Fiction Books
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by:
Jane Austen
Chapter 1 It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife. However little known the feelings or views of such a man may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is considered the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters. "My dear Mr....
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Charlotte Bronte
CHAPTER I There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question. I was glad of it: I never liked long walks,...
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Jane Austen
CHAPTER I Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. She was the youngest of the two daughters of a most affectionate, indulgent father; and had, in consequence of her sister's marriage, been mistress of...
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Dillon Wallace
UNGAVA BOB I It was an evening in early September twenty years ago. The sun was just setting in a radiance of glory behind the dark spruce forest that hid the great unknown, unexplored Labrador wilderness which stretched away a thousand miles to the rocky shores of Hudson's Bay and the bleak desolation of Ungava. With their back to the forest and the setting sun, drawn up in martial line stood the...
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Begins with Differences of Opinion. If ever there was a man in this world who was passionately fond of painting and cut out for a painter, that man was Frank Allfrey; but fate, in the form of an old uncle, had decided that Frank should not follow the bent of his inclinations. We introduce our hero to the reader at the interesting age of eighteen, but, long before that period of life, he had shown the...
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G. E. Wyatt
ARCHIE'S MISTAKE. "Father, why do you have such a beggarly-looking hand at the mill as that young Bennett?" asked Archie Fairfax of the great mill-owner of Longcross. "Why shouldn't I?" he replied. "He comes with an excellent character from the foreman he has been under at Morfield. He does his work very well, Munster says, and that's all I care for. I don't pay...
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CHAPTER I 'HASTE TO THE WEDDING' 'Wooed and married and a'.' 'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!' But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep. She lay curled up on the sofa in the back drawing-room in Harley Street, looking very lovely in her white muslin and blue ribbons. If Titania had ever been dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons,...
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In writing this book my desire has been to draw an exact copy of the picture which is indelibly stamped on my own memory. I have carefully avoided exaggeration in everything of importance. All the chief and most of the minor incidents are facts. In regard to unimportant matters, I have taken the liberty of a novelist—not to colour too highly, or to invent improbabilities, but—to transpose time,...
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"She leaned far out on the window-sill,And shook it forth with a royal will.'Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,But spare your country's flag,' she said." The black eyes of the little speaker burned with fiery indignation as she hurled these words of defiance at a ten-quart pail of blackberries standing in the middle of the dusty road where she had set it when the emotion of...
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by:
Paul Bransom
THE Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring-cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him,...
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