Juvenile Fiction Books

CHAPTER I. BILLABONG Norah's home was on a big station in the north of Victoria—so large that you could almost, in her own phrase, "ride all day and never see any one you didn't want to see"; which was a great advantage in Norah's eyes. Not that Billabong Station ever seemed to the little girl a place that you needed to praise in any way. It occupied so very modest a position... more...

CHAPTER I "Brother," said Mother Morrison, "you haven't touched your glass of milk. Hurry now, and drink it before we leave the table." Brother's big brown eyes turned from his knife, which he had been playing was a bridge from the salt cellar to the egg cup, toward the tumbler of milk standing beside his plate. "I don't have to drink milk this morning, Mother,"... more...

CHAPTER I "LOOK AT THE SKYLIGHT!" With a joyful laugh, her curls dancing about her head, while her brown eyes sparkled with fun, a little girl danced through the hall and into the dining room where her brother was eating a rather late breakfast of buckwheat cakes and syrup. "Oh, Bunny, it's doing it! It's come! Oh, won't we have fun!" cried the little girl. Bunny Brown... more...

A   POMPOUS old gander who lived in a barn-yard thought himself wiser than the rest of the creatures, and so decided to instruct them.He called together all the fowls in the barn-yard, and the pigeons off the barn-roof, and told them to listen to him. They gathered around and listened very earnestly, for they thought they would learn a great deal of wisdom. "The first thing for you to learn,"... more...

THE KING'S DAUGHTER "I wish I were a princess!" Emma stood with the dust-brush in her hand, pausing on her way upstairs to her own pretty little white room, which she was required to put in order every day. "Why, my child?" asked her mother. "Because then I would never have to sweep and dust and make beds, but would have plenty of servants to do these things for me."... more...

THE FLY AND THE GAME. A knight of powder-horn and shotOnce fill'd his bag--as I would not,Unless the feelings of my breastBy poverty were sorely press'd--With birds and squirrels for the spitsOf certain gormandizing cits.With merry heart the fellow wentDirect to Mr. Centpercent,Who loved, as well was understood,Whatever game was nice and good.This gentleman, with knowing air,Survey'd the... more...

The End of the Holidays "Ingred! Ingred, old girl! I say, Ingred! Wherever have you taken yourself off to?" shouted a boyish voice, as its owner, jumping an obstructing gooseberry bush, tore around the corner of the house from the kitchen garden on to the strip of rough lawn that faced the windows. "Hullo! Cuckoo! Coo-ee! In-gred!" "I'm here all the time, so you needn't... more...

Sleeping in Snow. Cold comfort is naturally suggested by a bed of snow, yet I have enjoyed great comfort and much warmth in such a bed. My friend Lumley was particularly fond of warmth and of physical ease, yet he often expressed the opinion, with much emphasis, that there was nothing he enjoyed so much as a night in a snow-bed. Jack Lumley was my chum—a fine manly fellow with a vigorous will, a... more...

CHAPTER I IN WHICH OUR HERO GOES FISHING Startled from a sound sleep, he fumbled blindly beneath the bed that he might throttle the insistent alarm clock before the clamor awakened the other members of the household. Then he lay back and listened breathlessly for parental voices of inquiry as to what he might be doing at the unearthly hour of half-past three on a late September morning. Far down the... more...

Choosing a new gown. “Give you good den, Master Clere!” said a rosy-faced countrywoman with a basket on her arm, as she came into one of the largest clothier’s shops in Colchester. It was an odd way of saying “Good Evening,” but this was the way in which they said it in 1556. The rosy-faced woman set down her basket on the counter, and looked round the shop in the leisurely way of somebody... more...