Juvenile Fiction Books

THE PLANTATION OF REDLAWN. One soft summer evening, when Woodville was crowned with the glory and beauty of the joyous season, three strangers presented themselves before the Grant family, and asked for counsel and assistance. The party consisted of two boys and a girl, and they belonged to that people which the traditions of the past have made the "despised race;" but the girl was whiter and... more...

CHAPTER I CAMPING IN THE BREAKER "And so I says to myself, says I, give me a good husky band of BoyScouts! They'll do the job if it can be done!" Case Canfield, caretaker, sat back in a patched chair in the dusky, unoccupied office of the Labyrinth mine and addressed himself to four lads of seventeen who were clad in the khaki uniform of the Boy Scouts of America. Those of our readers who... more...

In writing this book my desire has been to draw an exact copy of the picture which is indelibly stamped on my own memory. I have carefully avoided exaggeration in everything of importance. All the chief and most of the minor incidents are facts. In regard to unimportant matters, I have taken the liberty of a novelist—not to colour too highly, or to invent improbabilities, but—to transpose time,... more...

My home, and how I left it. The day arrived. A post-chaise stood in front of the old grey manor-house. I have it all before me. The pointed gables—the high-pitched, dark weather; stained roof—the numberless latticed windows—the moat, now dry, which had once served to keep out a body of Cromwell’s horse—the tall elms, which had nestled many a generation of rooks—the clump of beech trees, and... more...

CHAPTER I "I'VE VOLUNTEERED!" "Well, who is going to read the paper?" Amy Blackford stopped knitting for a moment, the half-finished sweater suspended inquiringly in the air, while she asked her question and gazed about impatiently at her busy group of friends. "It's your turn, anyhow, Mollie," she added, fingers flying and head bent as she resumed her work. "You... more...

CHAPTER I. A QUESTION OF PROPERTY. "It's a shame, mother! The property belonged to father and the village has no right to its use without paying for it." "I agree with you, Ralph," replied Mrs. Nelson. "But what are we to do in the matter?" "Why don't you speak to Squire Paget? He is the president of the village board." "I have spoken to him, but he will... more...

Self and Friends. Bigley Uggleston always said that it was in 1753, because he vowed that was the hot year when we had gone home for the midsummer holidays from Barnstaple Grammar-school. Bob Chowne stuck out, as he always would when he knew he was wrong, that it was in 1755, and when I asked him why he put it then, he held up his left hand with his fingers and thumb spread out, which was always his... more...

CHAPTER I. "NOTHING BUT A BOY." A young fellow in a light buggy, with a big black dog sitting composedly beside him, enjoying the ride, drove up, one summer afternoon, to the door of a log-house, in one of the early settlements of Northern Illinois. A woman with lank features, in a soiled gown trailing its rags about her bare feet, came and stood in the doorway and stared at him. "Does Mr.... more...

Chapter One. My infancy and education—How I was sold and who bought me. “Then you can guarantee it to be a good one to go?” “You couldn’t have a better, sir.” “And it will stand a little roughish wear, you think?” “I’m sure of it, sir; it’s an uncommon strong watch.” “Then I’ll take it.” These few sentences determined my destiny, and from that moment my career may be said... more...

The Rock. Early on a summer morning, about the beginning of the nineteenth century, two fishermen of Forfarshire wended their way to the shore, launched their boat, and put off to sea. One of the men was tall and ill-favoured, the other, short and well-favoured. Both were square-built, powerful fellows, like most men of the class to which they belonged. It was about that calm hour of the morning which... more...