Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. A NEW BOY. "What's your name?" "Diggory Trevanock." The whole class exploded. "Now, then," said Mr. Blake, looking up from his mark-book with a broad grin on his own face—"now, then, there's nothing to laugh at.—Look here," he added, turning to the new boy, "how d'you spell it?" Instead of being at all annoyed... more...

LETTERS. From Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky to Miss Nance Oldham of Vermont. Chatsworth, Kentucky. My dearest Nance: Our passage to Antwerp is really engaged and in two weeks Mother and I will be on the water. I can hardly believe it is I, Molly Brown, about to have this "great adventure." That is what Mother and I call this undertaking: "Our great adventure." Mother says it sounds Henry... more...

The Boors. Hendrik Von Bloom was a boor. My young English reader, do not suppose that I mean any disrespect to Mynheer Von Bloom, by calling him a “boor.” In our good Cape colony a “boor” is a farmer. It is no reproach to be called a farmer. Von Bloom was one—a Dutch farmer of the Cape—a boor. The boors of the Cape colony have figured very considerably in modern history. Although naturally... more...

MOTHERLESS When the children clamour for a story, my wife says to me, "Tell them how you bought a flat iron for a farthing." Which I very gladly do; for three reasons. In the first place, it is about myself, and so I take an interest in it. Secondly, it is about some one very dear to me, as will appear hereafter. Thirdly, it is the only original story in my somewhat limited collection, and I am... more...

Two Good Homes. “It’s as black as ink,” said Dennis, lifting one of the kittens out of its warm bed in the hay; “there’s not a single white hair upon it.” “Madam’s never had a quite black one before, has she?” said his sister Maisie, who knelt beside him, before the cat and her family. It was a snug and cosy home Madam had chosen for her children, in a dark corner of the hayloft,... more...

CHAPTER I.FRANK AND FANNY'S HOME. Frank and Fanny Lee were orphans. Their parents died when they were children, leaving them to the care of their grand-parents, who lived in the suburbs of a beautiful village, in New England. Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton were very fond of their grand-children, and did every thing in their power to make them happy. They were not rich, and therefore, had no money to throw... more...

THE APPLE DUMPLING. Many years ago, there was a little old woman who lived a long way off in the woods. She lived all by herself, in a little cottage with only two rooms in it, and she made her living by knitting blue woollen stockings, and selling them. One morning the old woman brushed up the hearth all clean, and put everything in order; then she went to the pantry and took out a great black pot,... more...

AT GOOD OLD SIWASH PREFACE Little did I think, during the countless occasions on which I have skipped blithely over the preface of a book in order to plunge into the plot, that I should be called upon to write a preface myself some day. And little have I realized until just now the extreme importance to the author of having his preface read. I want this preface to be read, though I have an uneasy... more...

CHAPTER I. SATURDAY EVENING'S WORK. Down in a little hollow, with the sides grown full of wild thorn, alder bushes, and stunted cedars, ran the stream of a clear spring. It ran over a bed of pebbly stones, showing every one as if there had been no water there, so clear it was; and it ran with a sweet soft murmur or gurgle over the stones, as if singing to itself and the bushes as it ran. On one... more...

WINDY GAP My name is Helena, and I am fourteen past. I have two other Christian names; one of them is rather queer. It is 'Naomi.' I don't mind having it, as I am never called by it, but I don't sign it often because it is such an odd name. My third name is not uncommon. It is just 'Charlotte.' So my whole name is 'Helena Charlotte Naomi Wingfield.' I have never... more...