Juvenile Fiction Books

HOW OLD KING EAGLE WON HIS WHITE HEAD Peter Rabbit sat on the edge of the dear Old Briar-patch, staring up into the sky with his head tipped back until it made his neck ache. Way, way up in the sky was a black speck sailing across the snowy white face of a cloud. It didn't seem possible that it could be alive way up there. But it was. Peter knew that it was, and he knew who it was. It was King... more...

'Twasthe night before Christmas, and it was very quiet in Mrs. Muffet's house,—altogether too quiet, thought little Miss Muffet, as she sat trying to eat her curds and whey. For Mrs. Muffet was a very severe mother and had her own ideas about bringing up children,—and so had Mr. Muffet, or rather he had the same ideas, only warmed over. One of these was on the necessity of care in the diet... more...

CHAPTER I. I BEGIN LIFE. I was just nineteen years of age when I began my career as articled pupil with the Miss Bagshots of Albury Lodge, Fendale, Yorkshire. My father was a country curate, with a delicate wife and four children, of whom I was the eldest; and I had known from my childhood that the day must come in which I should have to get my own living in almost the only vocation open to a poor... more...

CHAPTER I A DECLARATION OF WAR "Anne, you will never learn to do a side vault that way. Let me show you," exclaimed Grace Harlowe. The gymnasium was full of High School girls, and a very busy and interesting picture they made, running, leaping, vaulting, passing the medicine ball and practising on the rings. In one corner a class was in progress, the physical culture instructor calling out her... more...

CHAPTER I WHICH SHALL SPEAK FIRST? Ronald West stood at the window of his wife's sitting-room, looking across the bright garden-borders to the wide park beyond, and wondering how on earth he should open the subject of which his mind had been full during their morning ride. He had swung off his own horse a few moments before; thrown the bridle to a waiting groom, and made his way round to her... more...

Once upon a time there was a wood-mouse, and her name was Mrs. Tittlemouse. She lived in a bank under a hedge. Such a funny house! There were yards and yards of sandy passages, leading to storerooms and nut-cellars and seed-cellars, all amongst the roots of the hedge. There was a kitchen, a parlour, a pantry, and a larder. Also, there was Mrs. Tittlemouse's bedroom, where she slept in a little box... more...

IDA.... "Thou shall not lackThe flower that's like thy face, pale Primrose." Cymbeline.   The little old lady lived over the way, through a green gate that shut with a click, and up three white steps. Every morning at eight o'clock the church bell chimed for Morning Prayer—chim! chime! chim! chime!—and every morning at eight o'clock the little old lady came down the white... more...

CHAPTER I. THE OUTLAWS."Come listen to me, ye gallants so free,All ye who love mirth for to hear;And I will tell you of a bold outlawWho lived in Nottinghamshire." Old Ballad. Ikey Ford was the first to make the discovery, and he lost no time in carrying the news to the others. Great was their consternation! "Moving into the Brown house? Nonsense, Ikey, you are making it up!" Carl... more...

Introduction. “A wet sheet and a flowing sea,    A breeze that follows fast,That fills the white and rustling sail,    And bends the gallant mast.And bends the gallant mast, my boys,    Our good ship sound and free,The hollow oak our palace is,    Our heritage the sea.” It is now some twenty years ago, that the goodly ship Washington, commanded by Mr Erskine, left the port of New... more...

HOW FEAR CAME The stream is shrunk—the pool is dry,And we be comrades, thou and I;With fevered jowl and dusty flankEach jostling each along the bank;And by one drouthy fear made still,Forgoing thought of quest or kill.Now 'neath his dam the fawn may see,The lean Pack-wolf as cowed as he,And the tall buck, unflinching, noteThe fangs that tore his father's throat.The pools are shrunk—the... more...