Juvenile Fiction Books

NANNIE AND THE PONY. In another book, about Minnie’s pet pony, I have already given you some account of Nannie, her pet lamb. This had all the peculiarities of the South Down, to which breed of sheep it belonged. It had full, bright, black eyes, a small head, and a brownish-gray face and legs. Its back was straight and wide, and covered with fine, short wool, which protected it from the cold. When... more...

PREFACE TO NEW EDITION Books have their fates and this one's has been curious. I wrote it between January and March 1916, when I was seventeen and a half years old and in camp at Berkhamsted with the Inns of Court O.T.C. I loathed it there, everything about it, the impersonal military machine, the monotonous routine of drills and musketry, the endless foot-slogging, the perpetual petty... more...

CHAPTER I. BAD NEWS FROM THE AIR "Well, Tom, how's your head now?" "How's my head? What do you mean? There's nothing the matter with my head," and the speaker, who wore the uniform of a French aviator, glanced up in surprise from the cot on which he was reclining in his tent near the airdromes that stretched around a great level field, not far from Paris. "Oh,... more...

CHAPTER I. THE PASTOR'S PROGRESS. Miss Phœbe Tozer, the only daughter of the chief deacon and leading member of the Dissenting connection in Carlingford, married, shortly after his appointment to the charge of Salem Chapel, in that town, the Reverend Mr. Beecham, one of the most rising young men in the denomination. The marriage was in many ways satisfactory to the young lady's family, for... more...

Chapter One. “Never was bothered with a more thorough calm!” exclaimed my brother Harry, not for the first time that morning, as he and I, in spite of the sweltering heat, paced the deck of our tight little schooner the Dainty, then floating motionless on the smooth bosom of the broad Pacific. The empty sails hung idly from the yards. The dog-vanes imitated their example. Not the tiniest wavelet... more...

AT THE RANCH. Avon Burnet, at the age of eighteen, was one of the finest horsemen that ever scurried over the plains of Western Texas, on his matchless mustang Thunderbolt. He was a native of the Lone Star State, where, until he was thirteen years old, he attended the common school, held in a log cabin within three miles of his home, after which he went to live with his uncle, Captain Dohm Shirril,... more...

CHAPTER I POLLY RETURNS TO AMERICA Five girls were promenading the deck of one of our great Atlantic liners, on the last day of the trip. The report had gone out that they might expect to reach quarantine before five o’clock, but it would be too late to dock that night, therefore the captain had planned an evening’s entertainment for all on board. “Miss Brewster! Miss Polly Brewster! Polly... more...

THE FARM ON THE PENNESSEEWASSEE Away down East in the Pine Tree State, there is a lake dearer to my heart than all the other waters of this fair earth, for its shores were the scenes of my boyhood, when Life was young and the world a romance still unread. Dearer to the heart;—for then glowed that roseate young joy and faith in life and its grand possibilities; that hope and confidence that great... more...

CHAPTER I SAMMIE'S STORY They were playing on the lawn of Aunt Jo's house—the little Bunkers, six of them. You could count them, if you wanted to, but it was rather hard work, as they ran about so—like chickens, Mrs. Bunker was wont to say—that it was hard to keep track of them. So you might take my word for it, now, that there were six of them, and count them afterward, if you care to.... more...

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCING TOM, THE BOOTBLACK. "How do you feel this morning, Jacob?" asked a boy of fifteen, bending over an old man crouched in the corner of an upper room, in a poor tenement-house, distant less than a quarter of a mile from the New York City Hall. "Weak, Tom," whined the old man, in reply. "I—I ain't got much strength." "Would you like some... more...