Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I Motherless In the East End of London, more than a mile from St Paul's Cathedral, and lying near to the docks, there is a tangled knot of narrow streets and lanes, crossing and running into one another, with blind alleys and courts leading out of them, and low arched passages, and dark gullies, and unsuspected slums, hiding away at the back of the narrowest streets; forming altogether... more...

The Reason Why. “What do I think?” “Yes, out with it. Don’t be afraid.” “Oh, I’m not afraid; but I don’t want to quarrel with any man, nor to upset the lad.” “Speak out then. You will not quarrel with me, and I’m not afraid of your upsetting the lad. I like him to know the whole truth; don’t I, Steve?” “Yes, sir, of course,” cried the boy addressed, a well-built, sturdy... more...

CHAPTER I THE BATTLE OF THE BANANA PEE-WEE HARRIS, mascot of the Raven Patrol, First Bridgeboro Troop, sat upon the lowest limb of the tree in front of his home eating a banana. To maintain his balance it was necessary for him to keep a tight hold with one hand on a knotty projection of the trunk while with the other he clutched his luscious refreshment. The safety of his small form as he sat on the... more...

EXPLANATION OF THE NEW MAP This is a new map of the Deep Woods, showing a good many new things. The three spots on the Edge of the World, away down, show where the Hollow Tree people and Mr. Rabbit sat when they told their star stories. Mr. 'Coon leaned against the tree, so his spot does not show. The little bush is the one that Mr. 'Possum curled his tail around when he wanted to take a nap,... more...

JET "What's your name?" "Jethro Lewis." "How old are you?" "I don't know." "Judging from the size I shouldn't say you were over ten." "My size 's against me, that's a fact; but I can run a good deal faster than some fellers twice as big." The manager of the District Messenger Station did not attempt to conceal a smile as the boy... more...

The Play Commences. Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so “microscopically” small that—but let us not anticipate. About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay... more...

CHAPTER I INTRODUCING THE BOYS "I say, Ned, this is beginning to grow wearisome," drawled Randy Moore as he tipped his chair against the wall, and crossed his feet on the low railing in front of him. "Clay promised to be here half an hour ago," he went on in an injured tone, "and if he doesn't come in a few minutes I'm going to have a spin on the river. It's... more...

Chapter One. “I say, didn’t you hear a cry?” exclaimed Charley Fielding, starting up from the camp fire at which we were seated discussing our evening meal of venison, the result of our day’s hunting. He leaned forward in the attitude of listening. “I’m sure I heard it! There it is again, but whether uttered by Redskin or four-footed beast is more than I can say.” We all listened, but our... more...

SIXTEEN YEARS BEFORE. "If you do, Edward, you are no son of mine," said the Honorable Peter Montague, wrathfully, to the young gentleman who stood before him with bowed head. "If you connect yourself in any manner with the family of Richard Medway, I will disown you; I will never speak to you; I will never permit you to come into my presence again!" "But, father—" "I... more...

THE LOCK-HOUSE. he mist of a July morning shrouded the river and its banks. It was a soft thin mist, not at all like a winter fog, and through it, and high above it, the sun was shining, and the larks singing; and Edward Rowles, the lock-keeper, knew well that within an hour or two the brightest sunshine would gladden England's river Thames. He came out from his house, which was overgrown with... more...