Juvenile Fiction Books

I. A cabin. A cabin in the woods. In the cabin a great fireplace piled high with logs, fiercely ablaze. On either side of the broad hearthstone a hound sat on his haunches, looking gravely, as only a hound in a meditative mood can, into the glowing fire. In the center of the cabin, whose every nook and corner was bright with the ruddy firelight, stood a wooden table, strongly built and solid. At the... more...

BOUND FOR HOME "Hurry up, Sam, unless you want to be left behind!" "I'm coming!" shouted Sam Rover, as he crossed the depot platform on the run. "Where is Tom?" "He went ahead, to get two good seats for us," answered Dick Rover. He looked around the crowd that had gathered to take the train. "Hi, there, Songbird, this way! Come in this car, Hans!" "Say,... more...

I THE TUMBLERS It was late of a beautiful afternoon in May. In the hedges outside the village roses were blossoming, yellow and white. Overhead the larks were singing their happiest songs, because the sky was so blue. But nearer the village the birds were silent, marveling at the strange noises which echoed up and down the narrow, crooked streets. "Tom-tom; tom-tom; tom-tom"; the hollow thud of... more...

A young lady, just returned from college, was making a still-hunt in the house for old things—old furniture, old china, and old books. She had a craze for the antique, and the older things were the more precious they were in her eyes. Among other things she found an old scrap-book that her mother and I thought was safe under lock and key. She sat in a sunny place and read it page by page, and, when... more...

Introduces all the Rest There once lived, in a sequestered part of the county of Devonshire, one Mr Godfrey Nickleby: a worthy gentleman, who, taking it into his head rather late in life that he must get married, and not being young enough or rich enough to aspire to the hand of a lady of fortune, had wedded an old flame out of mere attachment, who in her turn had taken him for the same reason. Thus... more...

CHAPTER I. MOTHER AND SONS. AMMA, there's such a fine poem here about "seven lovely Campbells" whose father's name was Archibald; it must mean us,—don't you think so?' And a very pretty boy about ten years of age, who had been poring for some time over Wordsworth's Poems, lifted his roguish face to his mother's with a look of pretended conviction.'Not... more...

Coffee and Chicory, but not for Breakfast. “Just look at him, Dick. Be quiet; don’t speak.” “Oh, the dirty sunburnt little varmint! I’d like the job o’ washing him.” “If you say another word, Dinny, I’ll give you a crack with your own stick.” “An’ is it meself would belave you’d hurt your own man Dinny wid a shtick, Masther Jack? Why ye wouldn’t knock a fly off me.”... more...

CHAPTER I. Of course there was a baby in the case—a baby and mongrel dog, and a little boy and girl.  They baby was small, and not particularly fair, but it had round limbs and a dimple or two, and a soft, half-pathetic, half-doggy look in its blue eyes, and the usual knack, which most helpless little babies have, of twining itself round the hearts of those who took care of it. The caretakers of... more...

ROY'S SACRIFICE "Rejected by a large majority—I mean, elected by a large majority." Roy Blakeley gathered up the ballots in his two hands, dropped them into the shoe box and pushed the box across the table to Mr. Ellsworth as if the matter were finally settled. "Honorable Roy Blakeley," he added, "didn't even carry his own patrol." This humiliating confession,... more...

Chapter One. “How many more days, Jan, will it be before we get across this abominable desert?” I asked of our black guide, as we trudged along, he leading our sole remaining ox, while my uncle, Mr Roger Farley, and I led our two horses laden with the remnants of our property. “May be ten days, may be two ten,” answered Jan Jigger, whose knowledge of numerals was somewhat limited. I gave a... more...