Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I Little Rosanna Horton was a very poor little girl. When I tell you more about her, you will think that was a very odd thing to say. She lived in one of the most beautiful homes in Louisville, a city full of beautiful homes. And Rosanna's was one of the loveliest. It was a great, rambling house of red brick with wide porches in the front and on either side. On the right of the house was a... more...

CHAPTER I THE MEETING ON THE ROAD "Get out of my way, Dick Morrison!" The boy who had been trudging along the narrow road looked up in surprise at hearing himself spoken to so suddenly, though he recognized the domineering voice even before catching sight of the speaker. "You already have half of the road, Ferd Graylock; to give you more I'd have to back down in the ditch, and I... more...

CHAPTER I LOST: A FOREIGN PRINCE! "Two Black Bears!" "Two Wolves!" "Three Eagles!" "Five Moose!" "Quite a mixture of wild creatures to be found in a splendid clubroom in the city of New York!" exclaimed Ned Nestor, a handsome, muscular boy of seventeen. "How many of these denizens of the forests are ready to join the Boy Scout Camera Club?" "You may... more...

THE DRURY FAMILY. It was a sweet spring day, soft and balmy as summer, and any one looking across the green meadows and smiling uplands of Hayslope, now so full of the promise of early fruitfulness, would have wondered what could make the farm-labourers appear so gloomy, and the women-folk sigh instead of singing at their work, if he knew nothing of what was going on a few miles away. It was the year... more...

CHAPTER I. Up and down, to and fro, backwards and for wards over the sunny garden the butterflies, white, sulphur, and brown, flitted and fluttered, lightly poising on currant-bush or flower, loving life as they basked in the sunshine; and Penelope lay and watched them. What did it matter to them that the garden was neglected, the grass rank and uncut, the currant-bushes barren from neglect, the lilacs... more...

A Tale of Modern War. Reveals the Explosive Nature of my Early Career. The remarkable—I might even say amazing—personal adventures which I am about to relate occurred quite recently. They are so full of interest to myself and to my old mother, that I hasten to write them down while yet vivid and fresh in my memory, in the hope that they may prove interesting,—to say nothing of elevating and... more...

CHAPTER I. Elizabeth Adair was stooping to prop a rose-tree in a viranda, when she hastily turned to her sister, and exclaimed, “it is useless attending either to plants or flowers now: I must give up all my favourite pursuits.” “But you will have others to engage your attention,” returned Jane. “And will they afford me pleasure? You may as well say that I shall listen with joy to the foolish... more...

DICK ARBUCKLE'S DISCOVERY. "Father!" The call came from a boy of sixteen, a bright, manly chap, who had just awakened from an unusually sound sleep in the rear end of a monstrous boomer's wagon. The scene was upon the outskirts of Arkansas City, situated near the southern boundary line of Kansas and not many miles from the Oklahoma portion of the Indian Territory. For weeks the city... more...

THOMAS HUGHES. Thomas Hughes is a native of the royal county of Berkshire, England. From the nursery windows of the old farmhouse in Uffington, where he was born, in 1823, he delighted in looking out on that famous White Horse Hill which he describes in the opening chapters of "Tom Brown's School Days." His father was such an English squire as he represents Tom's father to be, and his... more...

CHAPTER I. Low stirrings in the leaves, before the windWakes all the green strings of the forest lyre.LOWELL. The light of an early Spring morning, shining fair on upland and lowland, promised a good day for the farmer's work. And where a film of thin smoke stole up over the tree-tops, into the sunshine which had not yet got so low, there stood the farmer's house. It was a little brown house,... more...