Juvenile Fiction Books

Showing: 61-70 results of 1873

Speech-Day at Harton. “A little bench of heedless bishops there,And here a chancellor in embryo.” Shenstone. It was Speech-day at Harton. From an early hour handsome equipages had been dashing down the street, and depositing their occupants at the masters’ houses. The perpetual rolling of wheels distracted the attention every moment, and curiosity was keenly on the alert to catch a glimpse of the... more...

Chapter 1: A Western Settler. Humphrey Angell came swinging along through the silent aisles of the vast primeval forest, his gun in the hollow of his arm, a heavy bag of venison meat hanging from his shoulders. A strange, wild figure, in the midst of a strange, wild scene: his clothes, originally of some homespun cloth, now patched so freely with dressed deerskin as to leave little of the original... more...

Preface. In all history, there is no drama of more terrible interest than that which terminated with the total destruction of Jerusalem. Had the whole Jewish nation joined in the desperate resistance made, by a section of it, to the overwhelming strength of Rome, the world would have had no record of truer patriotism than that displayed, by this small people, in their resistance to the forces of the... more...

The Picture. A countenance in which did meetSweet records, promises as sweet. Wordsworth. “And so, my dear Anna, you really leave London to-morrow!” “By the ten o’clock train,” added an eager voice, “and I shan’t get to Dornton until nearly five. Father will go with me to Paddington, and then I shall be alone all the way. My very first journey by myself—and such a long one!” “You... more...

Introduces the Hero. To be generally helpful was one of the chief points in the character of Charlie Brooke. He was evidently born to aid mankind. He began by helping himself to everything in life that seemed at all desirable. This was natural, not selfish. At first there were few things, apparently, that did seem to his infant mind desirable, for his earliest days were marked by a sort of chronic... more...

CHAPTER I GLORIOUS NEWS "Hello, there, Red Rover! Come alongside!" "What's the row, fellows? This dandy breeze is too good to be wasted loafing." "Frank's coming in the Jupiter, and coming like a streak!" "Yes, and more than that, Bluff, he waves his hat as though he had great news!" Will Milton and Jerry Wallington sat in the double canoe, that with flapping... more...

From Pretence to Reality. “Berengaria, what do you generally do with your old court trains? How do you use them up?” The fire had died down to a dull red glow; only one tiny flame remained, which, flickering to and fro, showed a wide expanse of floor, and two easy-chairs drawn up before the fender, on which reclined vague, feminine figures. The voice which had asked the question was slow and... more...

Story 1—Chapter 1. The Miller of Hillbrook. There are all sorts of mills: some go by water, undershot or overshot; but if the millpond is dry, or the stream runs low, they come to a standstill. They want help, they must have water, to go on. Next there are steam-mills, which make a great noise and do a great deal of work; but they want coals and water too: if both are not brought to them, they stop... more...

by: Unknown
GOODY TWO-SHOES. Farmer Meanwell was at one time a very rich man. He owned large fields, and had fine flocks of sheep, and plenty of money. But all at once his good fortune seemed to desert him. Year after year his crops failed, his sheep died off, and he was obliged to borrow money to pay his rent and the wages of those who worked on the farm. At last he had to sell his farm, but even this did not... more...

Chapter One. “What shall we do with ourselves, my dear Stilkin?” exclaimed Count Funnibos, yawning and stretching out his legs and arms, which were of the longest. “Do! why, travel,” answered Baron Stilkin, with a smile on his genial countenance. “Travel! what for?” asked the Count, yawning again. “To see the world, to be sure,” answered the Baron. “The world! why, don’t we see it... more...