Juvenile Fiction Books

Easney Vicarage. Quite close to the nursery window at Easney Vicarage there grew a very old pear-tree. It was so old that the ivy had had time to hug its trunk with strong rough arms, and even to stretch them out nearly to the top, and hang dark green wreaths on every bough. Some day, the children had been told, this would choke the life out of the tree and kill it; that would be a pity, but there... more...

The maple-bordered street was as still as a country Sunday; so quiet that there seemed an echo to my footsteps. It was four o'clock in the morning; clear October moonlight misted through the thinning foliage to the shadowy sidewalk and lay like a transparent silver fog upon the house of my admiration, as I strode along, returning from my first night's work on the "Wainwright Morning... more...

CHAPTER I THE FINGER OF SUSPICION "Hello! there, Bristles!" "Hello! yourself, Fred Fenton!" "Why, what ails you this fine summer morning, Bristles? You don't look as jolly as you might." "Well, I was only waiting to see if you cared to speak to me, Fred." "Why in the wide world shouldn't I, when you're one of my chums, Bristles Carpenter?" Andy... more...

CHAPTER I. Sammy Ray was running by the parsonage one day when Miss Ruth called to him. She was sitting in the vine-shaded porch, and there was a crutch leaning against her chair. "Sammy," she said, "isn't there a field of tobacco near where you live?" "Yes'm; two of 'em." "To-morrow morning look among the tobacco plants and find me a large green worm. Have... more...

PREPARATIONS The big brown automobile gave three honks as it swung around the corner from Church Street. Roger Morton, raking leaves in the yard beside his house, threw down his rake and vaulted over the gate. "Good afternoon, sir," he called to his grandfather, saluting, soldier fashion. "Good afternoon, son. I stopped to tell you that those pumpkins are ready for you. If you'll hop... more...

CHAPTER I. It is a busy, talking world. —ROWE. "I think I shall enjoy the fortnight we are to spend here, papa; it seems such a very pleasant place," Elsie remarked, in a tone of great satisfaction. "I am glad you are pleased with it, daughter," returned Mr. Dinsmore, opening the morning paper, which John had just brought up. They—Mr. Dinsmore and Elsie, Rose and Edward... more...

Austin and His Friends It was rather a beautiful old house—the house where Austin lived. That is, it was old-fashioned, low-browed, solid, and built of that peculiar sort of red brick which turns a rich rose-colour with age; and this warm rosy tint was set off to advantage by the thick mantle of dark green ivy in which it was partly encased, and by the row of tall white and purple irises which ran... more...

BLACK GILES THE POACHER: CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT OF A FAMILYWHO HAD RATHER LIVE BY THEIR WITS THAN THEIR WORK BY HANNAH MORE.   This story exhibits an accurate picture of that part of the country where the author then resided; and where, by her benevolent zeal, a great reformation was effected among the poor inhabitants of at least twenty parishes, within a circle of thirty miles. Poaching Giles lives... more...

CHAPTER I. “GOOD-BYE” TO THE OLD LIFE. “Me want to see Hetty,” said an imperious baby voice. “No, no; not this morning, Miss Nan, dear.” “Me do want to see Hetty,” was the quick, impatient reply. And a sturdy indignant little face looked up at Nurse, to watch the effect of the last decisive words. Finding no affirmative reply on Nurse’s placid face, the small lips closed firmly—two... more...

INTRODUCTION GENTLE READER:—Let me make you acquainted with my book, "Back Home." (Your right hand, Book, your right hand. Pity's sakes! How many times have I got to tell you that? Chest up and forward, shoulders back and down, and turn your toes out more.) It is a little book, Gentle Reader, but please don't let that prejudice you against it. The General Public, I know, likes to... more...