Juvenile Fiction Books

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...

CHAPTER 1 The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of the lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. From the corner of the divan of Persian saddle-bags on which he was lying, smoking, as was his custom, innumerable cigarettes, Lord Henry Wotton could... 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 New Boys. Slegge said it was all “bosh;” for fifty years ago a boy at school had not learned to declare that everything which did not suit his taste was “rot.” So Slegge stood leaning up against the playground wall with a supercilious sneer upon his lip, and said it was all “bosh,” and only fit for children. The other fellows, he said, might make idiots of themselves if they liked, he... more...

THERE was once a little Brownie, who lived—where do you think he lived? in a coal-cellar.Now a coal-cellar may seem a most curious place to choose to live in; but then a Brownie is a curious creature—a fairy, and yet not one of that sort of fairies who fly about on gossamer wings, and dance in the moonlight, and so on. He never dances; and as to wings, what use would they be to him in a coal-cellar?... more...

I A SLIM RASCAL Old Mr. Crow often remarked that if Grumpy Weasel really wanted to be of some use in the world he would spend his time at the sawmill filling knot holes in boards. "He's so slender," Mr. Crow would say, "that he can push himself into a knot hole no bigger round than Farmer Green's thumb." Naturally it did not please old Mr. Crow when Solomon Owl went out of his... more...

The home of my childhood in South America—My father’s history—Sent to school in England—Life at school—Summoned back to America—Voyage with my uncle to Jamaica—Sail for Venezuela—Chased by a Spanish man-of-war—Cross the bar of the Magdalena River—Driven on shore by a storm—Boat nearly wrecked—Our night encampment—Repair boat—A deer shot—Disturbed by Goahira... more...

CHAPTER I PAUL AND BOB "Did you say this big Air Derby around the world takes place this coming summer, Bob?" "So dad told me at the breakfast table this morning, Paul. The plans have just been completed. He said full details would be in to-day's papers." "And the afternoon edition is out now, for there's a newsie just ahead of us who is calling out the Daily Independent.... more...

A Big Temptation By L. T. Meade. Netty stood on the doorstep of a rickety old house and nursed the baby. She was ten years old and had the perfectly white face of a child who had never felt any fresher air than that which blows in a London court. It is true that the year before she had gone with her brother Ben into the country. The Ladies' Committee of the Holiday Fund had arranged the matter,... more...

CHAPTER I. A QUESTION OF PROPERTY. "It's a shame, mother! The property belonged to father and the village has no right to its use without paying for it." "I agree with you, Ralph," replied Mrs. Nelson. "But what are we to do in the matter?" "Why don't you speak to Squire Paget? He is the president of the village board." "I have spoken to him, but he will... more...