Juvenile Fiction Books

PREFACE To this Essay on the “Folk-lore of North Wales,” was awarded the first prize at the Welsh National Eisteddfod, held in London, in 1887.  The prize consisted of a silver medal, and £20.  The adjudicators were Canon Silvan Evans, Professor Rhys, and Mr Egerton Phillimore, editor of the Cymmrodor. By an arrangement with the Eisteddfod Committee, the work became the property of the... more...

THE BIRD SOLDIER. Little bird! you had better let that cannon alone; I am afraid you will soon fall by its side. But what are you firing at? You don’t mean to let us see; never mind—only be sure that you don’t kill yourself, nor any body else. Can it be that you are doing all that for play? If so, you must be very fond of fire-works. But you hardly look cross enough to kill any body. If you do... more...

THE LOST CHILD. Remember? Yes, I remember well that time when the disagreement arose between Sam Buckley and Cecil, and how it was mended. You are wrong about one thing, General; no words ever passed between those two young men: death was between them before they had time to speak. I will tell you the real story, old as I am, as well as either of them could tell it for themselves; and as I tell it I... more...

CHAPTER I THE ROVER BOYS IN SAN FRANCISCO "Well, Dick, here we are in San Francisco at last." "Yes, Tom, and what a fine large city it is." "We'll have to take care, or we'll get lost," came from a third boy, the youngest of the party. "Just listen to Sam!" cried Tom Rover. "Get lost! As if we weren't in the habit of taking care of ourselves."... more...

A GREAT SECRET Whoever Katy was, and whatever she might have done, nobody in Pleasant Valley knew anything about her except Kiddie Katydid and his numerous and noisy family. To be sure, many of the wild folk—and the people in the farmhouse, too—remembered hearing her name mentioned the year before. But they had quite forgotten about her, until August came and Kiddie Katydid and his relations... more...

PHRONSIE'S PIE "Jefferson," said Phronsie, with a grave uplifting of her eyebrows, "I think I will go down into the kitchen and bake a pie; a very little pie, Jefferson." "Bless you, Miss," replied the cook, showing his white teeth in glee, "it is the making of the kitchen when you come it." "Yes, Jefferson," said Phronsie slowly, "I think I will go down... more...

A SONG OF GOLDEN SUMMER "Now, David, you know that I know that you don't know what I know. Therefore, if I know that you don't know what I know you don't know, it's very plain to be seen that either you or I know very little. Now, which of us is a know-nothing? Don't be afraid to confess. Remember, we are your friends." Hippy Wingate beamed benevolently upon his victim,... more...

When nursery lamps are veiled, and nurse is singing In accents low,Timing her music to the cradle's swinging,Now fast, now slow,— Singing of Baby Bunting, soft and furry In rabbit cloak,Or rock-a-byed amid the toss and flurryOf wind-swept oak; Of Boy-Blue sleeping with his horn beside him, Of my son John,Who went to bed (let all good boys deride him)With stockings on; Of sweet Bo-Peep following... more...

CHAPTER I "I hear that Janus Grubb is going to take a passel of gals on a tramp over the hills," observed the postmaster, helping himself to a cracker from the grocer's barrel. "Gals?" questioned the storekeeper. "Yes. There's a lot of mail here for the parties, mostly postals. Can't make much out of the postals, but some of the letters I can read through the... more...

The Outpost. On the northern shores of the Gulf of Saint Lawrence there stood, not very long ago, a group of wooden houses, which were simple in construction and lowly in aspect. The region around them was a vast uncultivated, uninhabited solitude. The road that led to them was a rude one. It wound round a rugged cliff, under the shelter of which the houses nestled as if for protection from the cold... more...