Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I GETTING A MOTOR BOAT "If you are going with the boys on the river, Jack, you will have to get a motor-boat. Won't you let me buy you one?" "No, not a bit of it, Dick." "But you want one?" "Certainly, and I am going to have one." "But motor-boats cost money, Jack. Why, mine cost me——-" "Never mind what it cost, Dick. You spend a lot more... more...

CHAPTER I. "Art is long, and Time is fleeting,  And our hearts, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beating  Funeral marches to the grave." LONGFELLOW. It was a lovely summer morning, glorious with sunlight, sweet with the fragrance of flowers and the songs of birds. The view from the bay-window of the library of Crag Cottage, the residence of Mr. George Leland, architect... more...

Whiffet, Skiffet and Skud were three little red squirrels who lived with their father and mother in a tiny brown house in the old chestnut tree. First, I must tell you how the Squirrel family came to live in this dear little house. You see it happened this way. Father and Mother Squirrel started out very early one morning in the spring, to hunt a new home as they did not feel safe any longer living... more...

CHAPTER I BUNNY IS UPSIDE DOWN "Grandpa, where are you going now?" asked Bunny Brown. "And what are you going to do?" asked Bunny Brown's sister Sue. Grandpa Brown, who was walking down the path at the side of the farmhouse, with a basket on his arm, stood and looked at the two children. He smiled at them, and Bunny and Sue smiled back, for they liked Grandpa Brown very much, and... more...

CHAPTER I THE THREE SCOUTS At Temple Camp you may hear the story told of how Llewellyn, scout of the first class, and Orestes, winner of the merit badges for architecture and for music, were by their scouting skill and lore instrumental in solving a mystery and performing a great good turn. You may hear how these deft and cunning masters of the wood and the water circumvented the well laid plans of evil... more...

CHAPTER I At the end of a long, straight avenue of symmetrically developed water maple trees (the trunks of all the trees whitewashed to precisely the same height from the ground) the house gleamed creamy-white, directly facing the Pike. Its broad front door came exactly within the middle distance of this vista of maples, as though the long-ago builder had known that Miss Eliza's orderly soul... more...

PART I f you don't like Christmas stories, don't read this one! And if you don't like dogs I don't know just what to advise you to do! For I warn you perfectly frankly that I am distinctly pro-dog and distinctly pro-Christmas, and would like to bring to this little story whatever whiff of fir-balsam I can cajole from the make-believe forest in my typewriter, and every glitter of... more...

The trapper’s camp—Beavers caught—The horses killed by wolves—Traps to catch the wolves. In the far western wilds of North America, over which the untutored red-skinned savage roams at liberty, engaged throughout life in war or the chase, by the side of a broad stream which made its way towards a distant lake, an old man and a boy reclined at length beneath a wigwam, roughly formed of sheets of... more...

No description available

BUSTER BEAR GOES FISHING Buster Bear yawned as he lay on his comfortable bed of leaves and watched the first early morning sunbeams creeping through the Green Forest to chase out the Black Shadows. Once more he yawned, and slowly got to his feet and shook himself. Then he walked over to a big pine-tree, stood up on his hind legs, reached as high up on the trunk of the tree as he could, and scratched... more...