Juvenile Fiction Books

Showing: 1411-1420 results of 1873

INTRODUCTION Maria Edgeworth came of a lively family which had settled in Ireland in the latter part of the sixteenth century.  Her father at the age of five-and-twenty inherited the family estates at Edgeworthstown in 1769.  He had snatched an early marriage, which did not prove happy.  He had a little son, whom he was educating upon the principles set forth in Rousseau’s “Emile,” and a... more...

1 MR. JACKSON MAKES UP HIS MIND If Mike had been in time for breakfast that fatal Easter morning he might have gathered from the expression on his father's face, as Mr. Jackson opened the envelope containing his school report and read the contents, that the document in question was not exactly a paean of praise from beginning to end. But he was late, as usual. Mike always was late for breakfast in... more...

ON THE ATLANTIC "Come to me, children," said Mrs. Bradley invitingly; "I will be a mother to you, my darlings. You shall not be a burden to the community, but I will take care of you myself." Having said this, she seized the little boy and his sister and pressed them to her heart, while tears trickled down her full, rosy cheeks. "Now you little sweethearts," she said soothingly,... more...

Chapter XXVII. In prison. The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in a large room where persons charged with trifling offences were commonly kept. They had company, for there were some twenty manacled and fettered prisoners here, of both sexes and of varying ages,—an obscene and noisy gang.  The King chafed bitterly over the stupendous indignity thus put upon his royalty, but... more...

A FISHING VILLAGEOfthe tens of thousands of excursionists who every summer travel down by rail to Southend, there are few indeed who stop at Leigh, or who, once at Southend, take the trouble to walk three miles along the shore to the fishing village. It may be doubted, indeed, whether along the whole stretch of coastline from Plymouth to Yarmouth there is a village that has been so completely... more...

FANNY, THE FLOWER-GIRL "Come, buy my flowers; flowers fresh and fair. Come, buy my flowers.Please ma'am, buy a nice bunch of flowers, very pretty ones, ma'am.Please, sir, to have some flowers; nice, fresh ones, miss; only justgathered; please look." Thus spoke, or sometimes sung, a little girl of perhaps eight years old, holding in her hand a neat small basket, on the top of which lay... more...

BAD NEWS "Why, Grace, what in the world is the matter? You've been crying!" "Yes, I have, Betty. But don't mind me. It's all so sudden. Come in. I shall be all right presently. Don't mind!" Grace Ford tried to repress her emotion, but the cause of her tears was evidently too recent, or the effort at self-control too much for her, for she gave way to another outburst,... more...

CHAPTER I A SNOWBALL FIGHT Down swirled the white flakes, blowing this way and that. It was snowing furiously in North Pole Land, and even the immense workshop of Santa Claus was almost buried in white. How the wind howled! It whistled down the chimneys, and blew the sparks about. "Whew, how cold it is!" cried a Wax Doll, who did not have any shoes on, for she was not yet quite finished.... more...

Half a Dozen Daughters. There were six of them altogether—six great big girls,—and they lived in a great big house, in the middle of a long high road, one end of which loses itself in London town, while the other goes stretching away over the county of Hertford. Years ago, John Gilpin had ridden his famous race down that very road, and Christabel loved to look out of her bedroom window and imagine... more...

Chapter One. Peter’s Home and Friends. “Are you better, mother, to-day?” asked little Peter, as he went up to the bed on which Widow Gray lay, in a small chamber of their humble abode. “I trust so, my boy,” she answered, in a doubtful tone, as she gazed fondly on the ruddy, broad, honest face of her only child, and put aside the mass of light hair which clustered curling over his brow, to... more...