Juvenile Fiction Books

TWO TRAVELERS. "Well, that's a pretty nervy piece of business!" It was Frank Merriwell who spoke the words, more to himself than to any one else. Frank was westbound, from Oklahoma City at the time, continuing the extensive tour mapped out after his Uncle Asher had died and left him so much money. As readers of former books in this series know, Frank was not making the tour alone.... more...

AMERICAN ALL THROUGH The tom-tom throbbed menacingly through the heavy dark of the Haitian night. Under its monotonous and maddening beat, Stuart Garfield moved restlessly. Why had his father not come back? What mystery lay behind? Often though the boy had visited the island, he had never been able to escape a sensation of fear at that summons of the devotees of Voodoo. Tonight, with the mysterious... more...

PREFACE "Dave Porter in the Gold Fields" is a complete story in itself, but forms the tenth volume in a line issued under the general title of "Dave Porter Series." The series was begun some years ago by the publication of "Dave Porter at Oak Hall," in which my young readers were introduced to a typical American lad at a typical American boarding school. There was at that time a... more...

AT THE RANCH. Avon Burnet, at the age of eighteen, was one of the finest horsemen that ever scurried over the plains of Western Texas, on his matchless mustang Thunderbolt. He was a native of the Lone Star State, where, until he was thirteen years old, he attended the common school, held in a log cabin within three miles of his home, after which he went to live with his uncle, Captain Dohm Shirril,... more...

THE CHAPERON"GIRLS,—come down! Quick!—I want to see how you look!" Prudence stood at the foot of the stairs, deftly drawing on her black silk gloves,—gloves still good in Prudence's eyes, though Fairy had long since discarded them as unfit for service. There was open anxiety in Prudence's expression, and puckers of worry perpendicularly creased her white forehead.... more...

AT WARWICK HALL It was mid-afternoon by the old sun-dial that marked the hours in Warwick Hall garden; a sunny afternoon in May. The usual busy routine of school work was going on inside the great Hall, but no whisper of it disturbed the quiet of the sleepy old garden. At intervals the faint clang of the call-bell, signalling a change of classes, floated through the open windows, but no buzz of... more...

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Preface. With the exception of the terrible retreat from Afghanistan, none of England's many little wars have been so fatal--in proportion to the number of those engaged--as our first expedition to Burma. It was undertaken without any due comprehension of the difficulties to be encountered, from the effects of climate and the deficiency of transport; the power, and still more the obstinacy and... more...

A Tale of Modern War. Reveals the Explosive Nature of my Early Career. The remarkable—I might even say amazing—personal adventures which I am about to relate occurred quite recently. They are so full of interest to myself and to my old mother, that I hasten to write them down while yet vivid and fresh in my memory, in the hope that they may prove interesting,—to say nothing of elevating and... more...

On board the “Scourge.” On the 9th of March, 1793, his Britannic Majesty’s gun-brig “Scourge” weighed, and stood out to sea from the anchorage at Spithead, under single-reefed topsails, her commander having received orders to cruise for a month in the chops of the Channel. The “Scourge” was a 16-gun brig, but having been despatched to sea in a great hurry, after receiving somewhat... more...