Juvenile Fiction Books

The Ugly Duckling. Pixie O’Shaughnessy was at once the joy and terror of the school. It had been a quiet, well-conducted seminary before her time, or it seemed so, at least, looking back after the arrival of the wild Irish tornado, before whose pranks the mild mischief of the Englishers was as water unto wine. Pixie was entered in the school-lists as “Patricia Monica de Vere O’Shaughnessy,” but... more...

THE SALE OF LITTLE HARRY.Come read my book good boys and girlsThat live on freedom's ground,With pleasant homes, and parents dear,And blithesome playmates round;And you will learn a woeful tale,Which a good woman told,About the poor black negro race,How they are bought and sold. Within our own AmericaWhere these bad deeds are done,A father and a mother livedWho had a little son;As slaves, they... more...

This little story I have translated from the French of Mademoiselle Montgolfier. If children enjoy it as much as I have, and think it as pretty, they will not regret that I have preferred it to any thing I could write for them. Mademoiselle Montgolfier says in her preface to the little book, "Notwithstanding the fanciful character of this story, it is, in fact, simply a little lesson in Natural... more...

CHRISTMAS TREE. (Pohutukawa). ong ago the Piccaninnies didn't have a rag to their backs except a huia feather which they wore in their hair. They were the jolliest, tubbiest, brownest babies you ever saw with tiny nubbly knobs on their shoulders, as if they had started to grow wings and then changed their minds about it, and little furry pointed ears, as all wild creatures have. Only these were... more...

CHAPTER I A glorious autumn day spread its golden sunshine over the city. In the parks the red leaves blazed under the deep blue sky, and the water in the lakes sparkled over the reflections of the tall buildings mirrored in their depths. People walked with a brisk step, as though they had but suddenly awakened from a long drowsy sleep to the coolness of a new, vigorous world. In a house just off Fifth... more...

CHAPTER I. THE PASTOR'S PROGRESS. Miss Phœbe Tozer, the only daughter of the chief deacon and leading member of the Dissenting connection in Carlingford, married, shortly after his appointment to the charge of Salem Chapel, in that town, the Reverend Mr. Beecham, one of the most rising young men in the denomination. The marriage was in many ways satisfactory to the young lady's family, for... more...

I Two frowning boys sat in their tennis flannels beneath the glare of lamp and gas. Their leather belts were loosened, their soft pink shirts unbuttoned at the collar. They were listening with gloomy voracity to the instruction of a third. They sat at a table bared of its customary sporting ornaments, and from time to time they questioned, sucked their pencils, and scrawled vigorous, laconic notes.... more...

BOUND FOR LAKE SURPRISE "Phil, please tell me we're nearly there!" "I'd like to, Lub, for your sake; but the fact of the matter is we've got about another hour of climbing before us, as near as I can reckon." "Oh! dear, that means sixty long minutes of this everlasting scrambling over logs, and crashing through tangled underbrush. Why, I reckon I'll have the map... more...

“Why, Phebe, are you come so soon,Where are your berries, child?You cannot, sure, have sold them all,You had a basket pil’d.”“No, mother, as I climb’d the fence,The nearest way to town,My apron caught upon a stake,And so I tumbled down.“I scratched my arm, and tore my hair,But still did not complain;And had my blackberries been safe,Should not have cared a grain.Phebe and her Mother.“But... more...

My early days at home. Brother Jack, a seaman’s bag over his shoulders, trudged sturdily ahead; father followed, carrying the oars, spars, sails, and other gear of the wherry, while as I toddled alongside him I held on with one hand to the skirt of his pea-jacket, and griped the boat-hook which had been given to my charge with the other. From the front of the well-known inn, the “Keppel’s... more...