Juvenile Fiction Books

PREFACE Madame: There are moments when one seems to come to life. One looks about and distinguishes a creature whose foot-print closely resembles the ace of spades. The thing says: bow-wow. It is a dog. One looks again. The ace of spades is now an ace of clubs. The thing says: pffffffff—and it is a cat. This is the history of the visible world and in particular, that of my god-children, Toby-Dog and... more...

CHAPTER 1 To Baree, for many days after he was born, the world was a vast gloomy cavern. During these first days of his life his home was in the heart of a great windfall where Gray Wolf, his blind mother, had found a safe nest for his babyhood, and to which Kazan, her mate, came only now and then, his eyes gleaming like strange balls of greenish fire in the darkness. It was Kazan's eyes that gave... more...

AUNT ANNE. Barbara entered the nursery with rather a worried look on her face. "Aunt Anne is coming to-morrow, children," she announced. "To-morrow!" exclaimed a fair-haired boy, rising from the window-seat. "Oh, I say, Barbe, that's really rather hard lines—in the holidays, too." "Just as we were preparing to have a really exciting time," sighed Frances, who was... 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...

CHAPTER I. HOW THE LITTLE PRINCESS MADE SUNSHINE. t was raining fast, and it had rained for two days. This was the third. Flora had become tired of the leaden sky and the wet earth. She had watched the moving clouds and the swaying branches of the trees long enough, and now she was ready for fair weather. But it seemed as if fair weather would never come, and she looked in vain for a bit of blue sky.... more...

A NIGHTCAP LETTER FROM AUNT FANNY. You dear little darling: A long time ago, that is, long for such a little speck of a child as you, just before last Christmas, I wrote a story book called "Nightcaps." I called it this funny name, because poor little lame Charley to whom all the stories were told, called them his "nightcaps," as he and his sisters and brothers had to go to bed, the... more...

The Hunter. On a beautiful summer evening, not many years ago, a man was seen to ascend the side of a little mound or hillock, on the top of which he lingered to gaze upon the wild scenery that lay stretched out before him. The man wore the leathern coat and leggings of a North American hunter, or trapper, or backwoodsman; and well did he deserve all these titles, for Jasper Derry was known to his... 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...

AUNT MARY. In one of those very pretty suburban villas which are to be seen in the neighbourhood of all our large towns, Aunt Mary lived, at the time when my tale commences. Indeed she had lived there the greater part of her life, for her father, Mr. Livesay, who had been a highly respected merchant in London for a great many years, had, unlike the generality of this prosperous class, retired from... more...

CHAPTER I. Here you sit, Horace, Prudy, Dotty, and Flyaway, all waiting for a story. How shall I begin? I cannot remember the events of my life in right order, so I shall have to tell them as they come into my mind. Let us see. To go back to the long, long summer, when I was a child: There once lived and moved a little try-patience, called Margaret Parlin; no more nor less a personage than myself, your... more...