Juvenile Fiction Books

A NIGHTCAP LETTER FROM AUNT FANNY. You dear little darling: A long time ago, that is, long for such a little speck of a child as you, just before last Christmas, I wrote a story book called "Nightcaps." I called it this funny name, because poor little lame Charley to whom all the stories were told, called them his "nightcaps," as he and his sisters and brothers had to go to bed, the... more...

CHAPTER I RUTH VARS COMES OUT I SPEND my afternoons walking alone in the country. It is sweet and clean out-of-doors, and I need purifying. My wanderings disturb Lucy. She is always on the lookout for me, in the hall or living-room or on the porch, especially if I do not come back until after dark. She needn't worry. I am simply trying to fit together again the puzzle-picture of my life, dumped... more...

In the Pearl River. “Bill!” “Aye, aye, bo!” “Guess this’ll be a rum v’yage, mate.” “Why, old shellback?” “’Cause I can’t make out why we are wasting our time here, with the cargo all aboard and the wind fair.” “Don’t you fret yourself about that, Jem Backstay. The skipper knows what he’s a-doing, and has got a heap o’ ’sponsibility on them shoulders o’... more...

THE WONDERFUL PLOUGH. There was once a farmer who was master of one of the little black dwarfs that are the blacksmiths and armourers, and he got him in a very curious way. On the road leading to this farmer's ground there stood a stone cross, and every morning as he went to his work he used to stop and kneel down before this cross, and pray for some minutes. On one of these occasions he noticed... more...

The wonderful linguist—I study Arabic—My first voyage to sea—We sail for the coast of Africa—The brig capsized—Saved on a raft. “Never throw away a piece of string, a screw, or a nail, or neglect an opportunity, when it offers, of gaining knowledge or learning how to do a thing,” my father used to say; and as I respected him, I followed his advice,—and have, through life, on many... more...

FLOWERS! “Patty, do come along and get your luncheon before everything grows cold!” “‘And the stars are old, And the leaves of the judgment book unfold,’” chanted Patty, who had just learned this new song, and was apt to sing it at unexpected moments. She sat on the floor in the middle of the long drawing-room of her New York home. To say she was surrounded by flowers, faintly expresses it.... more...

THE VARMINT When young Stover disembarked at the Trenton station on the fourth day after the opening of the spring term he had acquired in his brief journey so much of the Pennsylvania rolling stock as could be detached and concealed. Inserted between his nether and outer shirts were two gilt "Directions to Travelers" which clung like mustard plasters to his back, while a jagged tin sign,... more...

I. THIS WAY, AND THAT. The parlor blinds were shut, and all the windows of the third-story rooms were shaded; but the pantry window, looking out on a long low shed, such as city houses have to keep their wood in and to dry their clothes upon, was open; and out at this window had come two little girls, with quiet steps and hushed voices, and carried their books and crickets to the very further end,... more...

CHAPTER I THE ARRIVAL OF THE BOY "What's the news, Uncle?" asked Miss Patricia Doyle, as she entered the cosy breakfast room of a suite of apartments in Willing Square. Even as she spoke she pecked a little kiss on the forehead of the chubby man addressed as "Uncle"—none other, if you please, than the famous and eccentric multi-millionaire known in Wall Street as John... more...

CHAPTER I THE COMING OF JOAN Along some parts of the coast in South Wales the mountains rise abruptly from the shore, with only a narrow shingle between them and the sea. High above the coast, however, there are warm, sunny little valleys and dells among the hills, where sheep can find pasture and a fold; and here there are many small farmsteads, surrounded by wild rocks and bleak uplands, where the... more...