Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I THE BOY FROM KANSAS"Holdup!"Coach Robey, coatless, vestless, hatless, his old flannel trousers held up as by a miracle with the aid of a leather strap scarcely deserving the name of belt, pushed his way through the first squad players. The Brimfield Head Coach was a wiry, medium-sized man of about thirty, with a deeply-tanned face from which sharp blue eyes looked out under whitish... more...

CHAPTER 1 "Bong-g-g! Bong-g-g! Bong-g-g!—" With a hollow booming sound reminiscent of old eighteenth-and nineteenth-century clock towers, the electronic time tone rang out from the Tower of Galileo, chiming the hour of nine. As the notes reverberated over the vast expanse of Space Academy, U.S.A., the lights in the windows of the cadet dormitories began to wink out and the slidewalks that... more...

THE YOUNG LORD. “Lay not up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust do corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal. “But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal. “For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”—St. Matt. vi. 19, 20, 21. “How can we reward the... more...

Peters the Susceptible APER-WEIGHTS," observed Patty, sucking an injured thumb, "were evidently not made for driving in tacks. I wish I had a hammer."This remark called forth no response, and Patty peered down from the top of the step-ladder at her room-mate, who was sitting on the floor dragging sofa-pillows and curtains from a dry-goods box. "Priscilla," she begged, "you... more...

CHAPTER I. The care of a large family is no light matter, as everybody knows. And that year I had an unusually large family. No less than seven young urchins for Mrs. Hedgehog and myself to take care of and start in life; and there was not a prickly parent on this side of the brook, or within three fields beyond, who had more than four. My father's brother had six one year, I know. It was the... more...

A Romance of Old Albion. Opens with Leave-Taking. Nearly two thousand seven hundred years ago—or somewhere about eight hundred years B.C.—there dwelt a Phoenician sea-captain in one of the eastern sea-ports of Greece—known at that period, or soon after, as Hellas. This captain was solid, square, bronzed, bluff, and resolute, as all sea-captains are—or ought to be—whether ancient or modern. He... more...

"Let us now praise famous men"—Men of little showing—For their work continueth,And their work continueth,Greater than their knowing. Western wind and open surgeTore us from our mothers;Flung us on a naked shore(Twelve bleak houses by the shore!Seven summers by the shore!)'Mid two hundred brothers. There we met with famous menSet in office o'er us.And they beat on us with... more...

CHAPTER I THE STORM “Margot! Margot!” Mother Angelique’s anxious call rang out over the water, once, twice, many times. But, though she shaded her brows with her hands and strained her keen ears to listen, there was no one visible and no response came back to her. So she climbed the hill again and, reëntering the cabin, began to stir with almost vicious energy the contents of a pot swinging in... more...

Mr John Dempster. “What would I do, sir? Why, if I were as poor as you say you are, and couldn’t get on here, I’d go abroad.” “But where, sir? where to?” “Anywhere. Don’t ask me. The world’s big enough and round enough for you, isn’t it?” “But without means, Mr Dempster?” “Yes, sir, without means. Work, sir—work. The same as I have done. I pay my poor rate, and I can’t... more...

"Who's that little gal goin' by?" said old Mrs. Emmons. "That—why, that's young Lucretia, mother," replied her daughter Ann, peering out of the window over her mother's shoulder. There was a fringe of flowering geraniums in the window; the two women had to stretch their heads over them. "Poor little soul!" old Mrs. Emmons remarked further. "I pity that... more...