Juvenile Fiction Books

Scenes In Switzerland. Time flies swiftly when we are sightseeing; and it was late in the autumn of 18— when I reached Lindau. Lake Constance lay before me, a pale, green sheet of water, hemmed in on the south by bold mountain ranges, filling the interim between the Rhine valley and the long undulating ridges of the Canton Thurgau. These heights, cleft at intervals by green smiling valleys and deep... more...

LULU WIBBLEWOBBLE STUCK IN THE MUD Once upon a time, not so very many years ago, there lived three ducks in a duck pen. And this pen was not far from where Sammie and Susie Littletail, the rabbit children, had their burrow, and it was close to the trees where Johnnie and Billie Bushytail, the squirrel brothers, learned to jump from their nest. Now I am going to tell you some stories about these ducks,... more...

MISS PAT ARRIVES "The train's in, Elinor, and she'll be here in a jiffy. Bruce said he'd get a taxi, so as not to lose a minute. Do come and watch that corner while I keep my eyes on this one," said Judith, in a sudden flurry. She was standing with her nose pressed against the cool glass of the studio window, staring eagerly out across the wintry square and scanning the opposite... more...

Two Middies and a Monkey. “We’ve done wrong, Van. There’ll be a jolly row about it.” “Get out! What’s the good of talking now? You were as ready to have him as I was. Lie still, will you? or I’ll pitch you overboard.” Two middies talking in the stern-sheets of the cutter belonging to Her Majesty’s fast little cruiser Nautilus, stationed on the west coast of Africa “blackberrying,”... more...

“Chicken Little–Chicken Little!” Mrs. Morton’s face was flushed with the heat. She was frying doughnuts over a hot stove and had been calling Chicken Little at intervals for the past ten minutes. Providence did not seem to have designed Mrs. Morton for frying doughnuts. She was very sensitive to heat and had little taste for cooking. She had laid aside her silks and laces on coming to the... more...

CHAPTER I. "Dearest mother, do not grieve for me, it breaks my heart." The sweet, sad voice of the speaker quivered with unshed tears, as she knelt before the grief-bowed figure on the sofa, and took one of the little, shrunken, tear-wet hands in both her own, with the devotion of a lover. "Have you not often told me of the sin of distrusting the All-wise Being, who has cared for us all our... more...

CHAPTER I. SAM'S NEW CLOTHES. "If I'm goin' into a office I'll have to buy some new clo'es," thoughtSam Barker. He was a boy of fifteen, who, for three years, had been drifting about the streets of New York, getting his living as he could; now blacking boots, now selling papers, now carrying bundles—"everything by turns, and nothing long." He was not a model... more...

PRUDY'S PATCHWORK I am going to tell you something about a little girl who was always saying and doing funny things, and very often getting into trouble. Her name was Prudy Parlin, and she and her sister Susy, three years older, lived in Portland, in the State of Maine, though every summer they went to Willowbrook, to visit their grandmother. At the very first of our story, Susy was more than six... more...

CHAPTER I A LIBERTY POLE Anna and Rebecca Weston, carrying a big basket between them, ran along the path that led from their home to the Machias River. It was a pleasant May morning in 1775, and the air was filled with the fragrance of the freshly cut pine logs that had been poled down the river in big rafts to be cut into planks and boards at the big sawmills. The river, unusually full with the spring... more...

Valuable Booty. A good many years ago, before, indeed, I can remember, His Majesty’s Ship Laurel, a corvette of eighteen guns and a hundred and thirty men, commanded by Captain Blunt, formed one of the West India squadron. She, with another corvette, and a brig in company, came one fine morning off a beautiful island, then in possession of the French, although, as Dick Driver, from whom I got the... more...