Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. NAN'S GOLDEN MANE. It was a perfect summer's evening. The sun had just set, and purple, gold, violet, rose colour still filled the sky in the west. There was a tender new moon, looking like a silver bow, also to be seen; before long the evening star would be visible. Hester Thornton stepped out of the drawing-room at the Grange, and, walking a little way down the broad gravel... more...

THE PRACTICAL JOKE. Welcome, merry Christmas and New-Year! prized by children above all other days in the year. Ye are associated with pleasant recollections of old Santa Claus and sugar-plums—with bright visions of a cheerful fireside, merry games, pleasant stories, and happy, smiling faces. First comes Christmas Eve, when each young face beams with eager curiosity and delightful anticipation—all... more...

That was the message that came to me from an editor last December just as I was going on a journey. Why he sent it to me I don't know. Perhaps it was because, when I was a little chap, my home was way up toward that white north where even the little boys ride in sleds behind reindeer, as they are the only horses they have. Perhaps it was because when I was a young lad I knew Hans Christian... more...

The last of the old Captain. Something unusual is happening at Willoughby. The Union Jack floats proudly over the old ivy-covered tower of the school, the schoolrooms are deserted, there is a band playing somewhere, a double row of carriages is drawn up round the large meadow (familiarly called “The Big”), old Mrs Gallop, the orange and sherbert woman, is almost beside herself with business flurry,... more...

Bravely Done. “Help! help! holloa there! Master Walter—Mr Amos—Jim—Harry—quick—bring us a light!—lend a hand here!” Such were the words which suddenly broke the stillness of a dark October night, and roused up the household of Mr Walter Huntingdon, a country gentleman living on his own estate in Derbyshire. The voice was the coachman’s, and came apparently from somewhere near the... more...

A QUEER IDEA. One of Mrs. Allen's bay windows stood open. Between the ivies, tuberoses, and lilies, you caught a glimpse of gilded walls and rare paintings. Better than all, you saw four young faces looking out at a snow-storm; Dotty with eyes like living diamonds, Prudy fair and sweet, Horace lordly and wise; and the little one "with dove's eyes" following every motion of his head,... more...

Dethroned by Fire and Water—A Tale of the Southern Hemisphere. The Open Boat. Early one morning, in the year 18 hundred and something, the great Southern Ocean was in one of its calmest moods, insomuch that the cloudlets in the blue vault above were reflected with almost perfect fidelity in the blue hemisphere below, and it was barely possible to discern the dividing-line between water and sky. The... more...

THE OPEN DOOR "Here we are at your father's feed store, Joe!" "Yes, but there isn't a glimmer of a light. Didn't you say he was going to stay here till you came from the meeting?" "Shucks! he just got tired waiting, and went home long ago; you can trot along now by your lonesome, Joe." "Listen! didn't you hear it, fellows? What was that sound?" The... more...

CHAPTER I Off to Italy In a top-story bedroom in an old-fashioned house in a northern suburb of London, a girl of fourteen was kneeling on the floor, turning out the contents of the bottom cupboards of a big bookcase. Her method of doing so was hardly tidy; she just tossed the miscellaneous assortment of articles down anywhere, till presently she was surrounded by a mixed-up jumble of books, papers,... more...

POLLY, ROSE AND GWEN A Summer at Cliffmore! Princess Polly and Rose Atherton could think of little else. It was true that Avondale was a charming place in which to live, and there were pleasant schoolmates and merry times when Winter came. There were fine lawns and beautiful flowers everywhere, but Polly and Rose loved the shore, and surely the salt air was delightful, and the beach a lovely place on... more...