Juvenile Fiction Books

One day, many years ago, a brig cast off from her moorings, and sailed from a British port for the Polar Seas. That brig never came back. Many a hearty cheer was given, many a kind wish was uttered, many a handkerchief was waved, and many a tearful eye gazed that day as the vessel left Old England, and steered her course into the unknown regions of the far north. But no cheer ever greeted her return;... more...

Chapter One. On the March. Trrt—trrt—trrt. Just that little sound, as the sticks flirted with the drumheads to keep the men in step; for Her Majesty’s 404th Fusiliers were marching “easy.” So it was called; and it meant with the men smoking, and carrying their rifles as they pleased—shouldered, at the trail, slung muzzle up or muzzle down. But, all the same, it was a miserable fiction to... more...

CHAPTER I THE WORK OF THE WOLF PACK "Hold up, Bob!" "Any signs of the lame yearling, Frank?" "Well, there seems to be something over yonder to the west; but the sage crops up, and interferes a little with my view." "Here, take the field glasses and look; while I cinch my saddle girth, which has loosened again." Frank Haywood adjusted the glasses to his eye. Then, rising... more...

THE STORY OF THE THREE GOBLINS. Once upon a time there were three little goblins. Their names were Red-Cap, Blue-Cap and Yellow-Cap, and they lived in a mountain. The goblins had a great friend—a green frog whose name was Rowley. Rowley came every year to see the little goblins, and told them stories about the Big World where he lived. The goblins had never seen the Big World, and often asked their... more...

PREFACE To this Essay on the “Folk-lore of North Wales,” was awarded the first prize at the Welsh National Eisteddfod, held in London, in 1887.  The prize consisted of a silver medal, and £20.  The adjudicators were Canon Silvan Evans, Professor Rhys, and Mr Egerton Phillimore, editor of the Cymmrodor. By an arrangement with the Eisteddfod Committee, the work became the property of the... more...

CHAPTER I "Impossible, Ned! It can't be as much as that!" "Well, you can prove the additions yourself, Tom, on one of the adding machines. I've been over 'em twice, and get the same result each time. There are the figures. They say figures don't lie, though it doesn't follow that the opposite is true, for those who do not stick closely to the truth do, sometimes,... more...

THE RIGHT PROMETHEAN FIRE Emmy Lou, laboriously copying digits, looked up. The boy sitting in line in the next row of desks was making signs to her. She had noticed the little boy before. He was a square little boy, with a sprinkling of freckles over the bridge of the nose and a cheerful breadth of nostril. His teeth were wide apart, and his smile was broad and constant. Not that Emmy Lou could have... more...

CHAPTER I "SOME RIDIN'!" Two riders slumped comfortably in their saddles as the ponies slowly ambled along. The sun was hot, and the dust stifling, a cloud of it forming a floating screen about the horsemen and progressing with them down the trail. One of the riders, a tall, lanky and weather-beaten cowboy, taking a long breath, raised his voice in what he doubtless intended to be a song.... more...

Onceupon a time there were fifteen Cubs who spent nine wonderful days in camp. They were London Cubs, and the camp was on a beautiful little green island whose rocky shore ran down in green, tree-covered points into the bluest sea you ever saw. These nine days were the most splendid days in those Cubs' lives. And so they often think of them, and dream about them, and live them over again in... more...

STORY I. BILLY BUNNY AND MR. BLACKSNAKE.   Rain, rain, go away,  Billy Bunny wants to play. This is what Willy Wind sang one morning. Oh, so early, as the raindrops pitter-pattered on the roof of the little rabbit's house in the Old Brier Patch. And then of course he woke up and wiggled his little pink nose a million times less or more, and pretty soon he was wide awake, so he got up and... more...