Juvenile Fiction
- Action & Adventure 179
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- Biographical 1
- Boys / Men 133
- Classics 1
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- General 262
- Girls & Women 187
- Historical 141
- Holidays & Celebrations 72
- Humorous Stories 2
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- Legends, Myths, & Fables 48
- Lifestyles 253
- Mysteries, Espionage, & Detective Stories 12
- Nature & the Natural World 3
- Religious 81
- School & Education 127
- Science Fiction, Fantasy, & Magic 12
- Short Stories 6
- Sports & Recreation 31
- Toys, Dolls, & Puppets 10
- Transportation 44
Juvenile Fiction Books
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CHAPTER I THE VOICE Betty Ashton sighed until the leaves of the book she held in her hand quivered, then she flung it face downward on the floor. "Oh dear, I do wish some one would invent something new for girls!" she exclaimed, although there was no one in the room to hear her. "It seems to me that all girls do nowadays is to imitate boys. We play their games, read their old books and even...
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Chapter I It was the fourth day of July of the year 1776. There was great excitement in all of the colonies of America at that time, for on this day the representatives of the people, gathered together in the city of Philadelphia, were to decide whether the Declaration of Independence, already drawn up, should be adopted and signed. In Philadelphia, as may well be supposed, the excitement was so...
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PREFACE ave done the thing his own way," said Aunt Polly to the Widow Cullom. "Kind o' fetched it round fer a merry Chris'mus, didn't he?" This is the story which is reprinted here from Mr. Westcott's famous book. It was David Harum's nature to do things in his own way, and the quaintness of his methods in raising the Widow Cullom from the depths of despair to the...
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by:
Jacob Abbott
Chapter I. "Which London shall we visit first?" said Mr. George to Rollo. "Why," rejoined Rollo, surprised, "are there two of them?" "Yes," said Mr. George. "We may almost say there are two of them. Or, at any rate, there are two heads to the monster, though the immense mass forms but one body." While Mr. George was saying these words Rollo had been standing on...
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CHAPTER I New York was in the throes of a blizzard. The wind howled and shrieked, heralding the approach of March, the Wind King's month of the year. Mrs. Davenport stood at a second story window of a room of the Gilsey House, and looked down idly on the bleak thoroughfare. She was a young-looking woman for her thirty-five years, and had an extremely sweet face, denoting kindliness of heart. The...
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Chapter One. Sunshine Bill, according to the world’s notion, was not “born with a silver spoon in his mouth;” but he had, which was far better, kind, honest parents. His mother kept an apple-stall at Portsmouth, and his father was part owner of a wherry; but even by their united efforts, in fine weather, they found it hard work to feed and clothe their numerous offspring. Sometimes Sunshine...
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CHAPTER I In Which Zip Is Introduced to the Reader Zip belongs to Dr. Elsworth, who lives in the big, white house with the green blinds on the edge of the village of Maplewood. And at the present minute he is asleep on the front porch on a soft cushion in an old-fashioned rocking-chair that is swaying gently to and fro, dreaming of the days when he was a puppy chasing the white spot on the end of his...
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Chapter One. A traveller was making his way through the Black Forest in Germany. A pack was on his back, of a size which required a stout man to carry it, and a thick staff was in his hand. He had got out of his path by attempting to make a short cut, and in so doing had lost his way, and had been since wandering he knew not where. Yet he was stout of heart, as of limb, and a night spent in the depths...
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IALMOST TWINS Nobody ever spoke of old Spot's master as "old Johnnie Green." Yet the two—boy and dog—were almost exactly the same age. Somehow Spot grew up faster than Johnnie. He had stopped being a puppy by the time his young master learned to walk. And when Johnnie was big enough to play around the farm buildings his parents felt sure that he was safe so long as "old Spot,"...
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CHAPTER I. I FIND MYSELF A FOUNDLING. My earliest recollections are of a square courtyard surrounded by high walls and paved with blue and white pebbles in geometrical patterns—circles, parallelograms, and lozenges. Two of these walls were blank, and had been coped with broken bottles; a third, similarly coped, had heavy folding doors of timber, leaden-grey in colour and studded with black...
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