Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I HIT BY A WHALE "How about a race to the dock, Frank?" "With whom, Andy?" "Me, of course. I'll beat you there—loser to stand treat for the ice cream sodas. It's a hot day." "Yes, almost too warm to do any speeding," and Frank Racer, a lad of fifteen, with a quiet look of determination on his face, rested on the oars of his skiff, and glanced across... more...

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In Memoriam. By the death of Talbot B. Reed the boys of the English-speaking world have lost one of their best friends. For fourteen years he has contributed to their pleasure, and in the little library of boys’ books which left his pen he has done as much as any writer of our day to raise the standard of boys’ literature. His books are alike removed from the old-fashioned and familiar class of... more...

CHAPTER I IS HE IN FAIRYLAND? The Candy Rabbit sat up on his hind legs and looked around. Then he rubbed his pink glass eyes with his front paws. He rubbed his eyes once, he rubbed them twice, he rubbed them three times. "No, I am not asleep! I am not dreaming," said the Candy Rabbit, speaking to himself in a low voice. "I am wide awake, but what strange things I see! I wonder what it all... more...

Chapter I Wonderful News "Letter for you, Tom Swift." "Ah, thanks, Mr. Wilson. This is the first mail I've had this week. You've been neglecting me," and the young inventor took the missive which the Shopton postman handed to him over the gate, against which Tom was leaning one fine, warm Spring day. "Well, I get around as often as I can, Tom. You're not home a great... more...

A Very Strange Pair. He was very grubby, and all about his dark grey eyes there were the marks made by his dirty fingers where he had rubbed away the tickling tears. The brownish red dust of the Devon lanes had darkened his delicate white skin, and matted his shiny yellow curls. As to his hands, with their fat little fingers, with every joint showing a pretty dimple, they looked white and clean, but... more...

How our heroes enter upon more than one career. On a raw, damp morning in early spring, a rather forlorn group of three youngsters might have been seen on the doorstep of Mountjoy Preparatory School, casting nervous glances up and down the drive, and looking anything but a picture of the life and spirits they really represented. That they were bound on an important journey was very evident. They were... more...

CHAPTER I UNCLE TOBY'S LETTER "What you going to put on your ship, Ted?" "Oh, swords and guns and gunpowder and soldiers. What you going to load on your ship, Jan?" "Oranges and lemons and pineapples," answered the little girl, who was playing with her brother at sailing boats in the brook that ran back of the house. "And maybe I'll have gold and diamonds and... more...

SOMETHING WRONG Bass drums were booming, snare drums were rattling, above them sounded the shrill notes of the bugles. There was the rumble of big-wheeled wagons, now and then an elephant trumpeted or a lion gave a hungry roar. Gay banners fluttered, glistening spears flashed with points of light, gaily attired women and men sat on the backs of swaying, ugly camels, or galloped on mettlesome steeds.... more...

From his place on the floor of the Hemenway Gymnasium Mr. Elbridge G. Mavering looked on at the Class Day gaiety with the advantage which his stature, gave him over most people there. Hundreds of these were pretty girls, in a great variety of charming costumes, such as the eclecticism of modern fashion permits, and all sorts of ingenious compromises between walking dress and ball dress. It struck him... more...