Juvenile Fiction Books

Chapter One. Malta, which I have selected as the opening scene of the following story, is, from its historical recollections, its fine climate, and brilliant skies, a very interesting spot; although, for such beauty as its scenery possesses, it must be acknowledged that it is indebted very much more to art than to nature. Notwithstanding, however, the noise it has made in the world, and will, I... more...

1. Burzee Have you heard of the great Forest of Burzee? Nurse used to sing of it when I was a child. She sang of the big tree-trunks, standing close together, with their roots intertwining below the earth and their branches intertwining above it; of their rough coating of bark and queer, gnarled limbs; of the bushy foliage that roofed the entire forest, save where the sunbeams found a path through... more...

CHAPTER I AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR “Oh, what a glorious day!” cried Bessie King, the first of the members of the Manasquan Camp Fire Girls of America to emerge from the sleeping house of Camp Sunset, on Lake Dean, and to see the sun sparkling on the water of the lake. She was not long alone in her enjoyment of the scene, however. “Oh, it’s lovely!” said Dolly Ransom, as, rubbing her eyes... more...

Chapter I. It's twenty years ago now since we settled on the Creek. Twenty years! I remember well the day we came from Stanthorpe, on Jerome's dray—eight of us, and all the things—beds, tubs, a bucket, the two cedar chairs with the pine bottoms and backs that Dad put in them, some pint-pots and old Crib. It was a scorching hot day, too—talk about thirst! At every creek we came to we... more...

Our Frank—A Buckinghamshire Story. “From east to west,At home is best.”        German proverb. It was a mild spring evening, and Mrs Frank Darvell was toiling slowly up Whiteleaf Hill on her way back from market. She had walked every step of the way there to sell her ducklings, and now the basket on her arm was heavy with the weight of various small grocery packets. Up till now she had... more...

THE FIRST CHAPTER. THE COBBLER'S SON MY name was Tommy Stubbins, son of Jacob Stubbins, the cobbler of Puddleby-on-the-Marsh; and I was nine and a half years old. At that time Puddleby was only quite a small town. A river ran through the middle of it; and over this river there was a very old stone bridge, called Kingsbridge, which led you from the market-place on one side to the churchyard on the... more...

CHAPTER I "Now, see here, Mr. Swift, you may think it all a sort of dream, and imagine that I don't know what I'm talking about; but I do! If you'll consent to finance this expedition to the extent of, say, ten thousand dollars, I'll practically guarantee to give you back five times that sum." "I don't know, Alec, I don't know," slowly responded the aged... more...

AUNT SOPHRONIA The Reverend Thomas Wilson's sister, Miss Sophronia, had come to Sunbridge on a Tuesday evening late in June to make her brother's family a long-promised visit. But it was not until the next morning that she heard something that sent her to her sister-in-law in a burst of astonishment almost too great for words. "For pity's sake, Mary, what is this I hear?" she... more...

SAM BLANEY   "Patty, Patty, pit-a-pat,  Grinning like a Chessy Cat, if you don't stop looking so everlasting cheerful, I'll throw something at you!" "Throw," returned Patty, as her grin perceptibly and purposely widened to the full extent of her scarlet lips. "All right!" and Elise threw a sofa cushion and another and another, following them up with a knitted... more...

CHAPTER I. A SHIP AT LAST. HIS has been a hard month for me," thought Morley Scott, the pilot, as he stood shading his eyes from the sun, and gazing anxiously out at sea. He hoped to have caught a glimpse of ships in the distance, for the winds had been very contrary lately. Many ships had been obliged to pass by the harbour, unable to get in, and the pilots had found very little to do. "That... more...