Juvenile Fiction Books

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...

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CHAPTER I. FOUR YEARS OLD.   In all England there is not a prettier village than Wavertree. It has no streets; but the cottages stand about the roads in twos and threes, with their red-tiled roofs, and their little gardens, and hedges overrun with flowering weeds. Under a great sycamore tree at the foot of a hill stands the forge, a cave of fire glowing in the shadows, a favourite place for the... more...

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...

NELLY AND HER FRIENDS Nelly Grey was a little English girl who had never been in England. She was born in China, and went with her father and mother to live in the British Legation compound in Peking when she was only three years old. A compound is a kind of big courtyard, with other courts and houses inside. Nelly's was a large one, and very open. It had several houses in it: not like we have in... more...

The Story of Little Black Mingo. Once upon a time there was a little black girl, and her name was Little Black Mingo. She had no father and mother, so she had to live with a horrid cross old woman called Black Noggy, who used to scold her every day, and sometimes beat her with a stick, even though she had done nothing naughty. One day Black Noggy called her, and said, "Take this chatty down to the... more...

TRADITION."What can he tell that treads thy shore?No legend of thine olden time,No theme on which the mind might soarHigh as thine own in days of yore." The Giaour.—BYRON In the beginning of the eighth century Guernsey was a favoured spot. Around, over the Continent and the British Isles, had swept successive conquests with their grim train of sufferings for the conquered; but these... more...

Half a Dozen Daughters. There were six of them altogether—six great big girls,—and they lived in a great big house, in the middle of a long high road, one end of which loses itself in London town, while the other goes stretching away over the county of Hertford. Years ago, John Gilpin had ridden his famous race down that very road, and Christabel loved to look out of her bedroom window and imagine... more...

CHAPTER I A SNOWBALL FIGHT Down swirled the white flakes, blowing this way and that. It was snowing furiously in North Pole Land, and even the immense workshop of Santa Claus was almost buried in white. How the wind howled! It whistled down the chimneys, and blew the sparks about. "Whew, how cold it is!" cried a Wax Doll, who did not have any shoes on, for she was not yet quite finished.... more...

FANNY, THE FLOWER-GIRL "Come, buy my flowers; flowers fresh and fair. Come, buy my flowers.Please ma'am, buy a nice bunch of flowers, very pretty ones, ma'am.Please, sir, to have some flowers; nice, fresh ones, miss; only justgathered; please look." Thus spoke, or sometimes sung, a little girl of perhaps eight years old, holding in her hand a neat small basket, on the top of which lay... more...