Juvenile Fiction Books

Chapter I The Dimplesmithy Grown people have such an exasperating way of saying, "Now, when I was a little girl—" Then, just as you prick up the little white ears of your mind for a story, they finish, loftily, "I did—or didn't do—so-and-so." It is certainly an underhand way of suggesting that you stop doing something pleasant, or begin doing something unpleasant; and you... more...

John-ny Wil-son and Ned Brown were play-ing at ball one day, and the ball hit John on the hand: he was ve-ry an-gry, and ran af-ter Ned and beat him ve-ry hard. Just then, a man came by and gave John a box on the ear which made him let go of Ned, and he be-gan to cry. Then the man said, “You beat that lit-tle boy and for-get how you hurt him, but you do not like it your-self." Then John was... more...

First Chronicle. JACK O'LANTERNIMiss Miranda Sawyer's old-fashioned garden was the pleasantest spot in Riverboro on a sunny July morning. The rich color of the brick house gleamed and glowed through the shade of the elms and maples. Luxuriant hop-vines clambered up the lightning rods and water spouts, hanging their delicate clusters here and there in graceful profusion. Woodbine transformed... more...

CHAPTER I. MOTHER BUNCH. There was once a wonderful fortnight in little Lucy's life. One evening she went to bed very tired and cross and hot, and in the morning when she looked at her arms and legs they were all covered with red spots, rather pretty to look at, only they were dry and prickly. Nurse was frightened when she looked at them. She turned all the little sisters out of the night nursery,... more...

THE BOYS OF THE BEAVER PATROL "They all think, fellows, that the Beaver Patrol can't do it!" "We'll show 'em how we've climbed up out of the tenderfoot class; hey, boys?" "Just watch our smoke, that's all. Why, it's only a measly little twenty-five miles per day, and what d'ye think?" "Sure Seth, and what's that to a husky lot of Boy... more...

CHAPTER I THE RUNAWAYS "Will Snap pull us, do you think, Freddie?" asked little Flossie Bobbsey, as she anxiously looked at her small brother, who was fastening a big, shaggy dog to his sled by means of a home-made harness. "Do you think he'll give us a good ride?" "Sure he will, Flossie," answered Freddie with an air of wisdom. "I explained it all to him, and I've... more...

CHAPTER I THE MAN ON THE PORCH "Oh, Daddy, come and take him off! He's a terrible big one, and he's winkin' one of his claws at me! Come and take him off!" "All right, Mun Bun. I'll be there in just a second. Hold him under water so he won't let go, and I'll get him for you." Daddy Bunker, who had been reading the paper on the porch of Cousin Tom's... more...

CHAPTER I THE WICKED GIANT HE was ten. But his clothes were forty. And it was this difference in the matter of age, and, consequently, in the matter of size, that explained why, at first sight, he did not show how thin-bodied he was, but seemed, instead, to be rather a stout little boy. For his faded, old shirt, with its wide sleeves lopped off just above his elbows, and his patched trousers, shortened... more...

This work, labourious as it may appear, has been to me a labour of love, an unfailing source of solace and satisfaction. During my long years of official banishment to the luxuriant and deadly deserts of Western Africa, and to the dull and dreary half clearings of South America, it proved itself a charm, a talisman against ennui and despondency. Impossible even to open the pages without a vision... more...

CHAPTER I A CAMP ON MOOSE RIVER Four Boy Scouts, of the Beaver Patrol, Chicago, were in camp on Moose river. They were all athletic young fellows, not far from seventeen years of age, and were dressed in the khaki uniform adopted by the Boy Scouts of America. If you take a map of the British Northwest Territories and look up Moose river, you will discover that it runs through nearly three hundred miles... more...