Juvenile Fiction Books

Introductory. We belong to a Cornish family of the greatest respectability and high antiquity—so say the county records, in which we have every reason to place the most unbounded confidence. The Tregellins have possessed the same estate for I do not know exactly how long; only I suppose it must have been some time after Noah disembarked from the ark, and, at all events, for a very long time. The... more...

THE PICTURE. H, Madge, just stay as you are; there—your head a little more turned this way.""But, Raymond, I can't possibly make the toast if I do." "Never mind the toast; I shan't be many minutes," said the boy who was painting in the window, while he mixed some colours in an excited, eager manner. "The fire is very hot. Mayn't I move just to one side?"... more...

his is such a capital night for a story, papa," said Robert Lincoln to his father, who had laid away his newspaper and seemed inclined to take an extra forty winks. "Indeed, Robert," said Mr. Lincoln, smiling, "I wonder if you would ever tire of hearing stories. I don't think I have one left; you and Lily have managed to exhaust my store." "O papa, please don't say... more...

THE WRECK OF A FEAST. What a sad sight it is to see a young child who does not know how to keep a check on the wish that tempts him to do wrong. The first rule that they who love a child should teach him, is the rule of self. It is the want of this self-rule that is the cause of so much that is bad in the world. It is this that makes girls and boys think more of what they want to do, than of what they... more...

CHAPTER I. AT HOME. On the evening of a dismal, rainy day in spring, a mother and her son were sitting in their log-cabin home in the southern portion of the present State of Missouri. The settlement bore the name of Martinsville, in honor of the leader of the little party of pioneers who had left Kentucky some months before, and, crossing the Mississippi, located in that portion of the vast territory... more...

THE PLAY COMMENCES. Blown to bits; bits so inconceivably, so ineffably, so "microscopically" small that—but let us not anticipate. About the darkest hour of a very dark night, in the year 1883, a large brig lay becalmed on the Indian Ocean, not far from that region of the Eastern world which is associated in some minds with spices, volcanoes, coffee, and piratical junks, namely, the Malay... more...

In which the Hero makes his First Flash and Explosion. Somewhere about the middle of this nineteenth century, a baby boy was born on the raging sea in the midst of a howling tempest. That boy was the hero of this tale. He was cradled in squalls, and nourished in squalor—a week of dirty weather having converted the fore-cabin of the emigrant ship into something like a pig-sty. Appreciating the... more...

CHAPTER I. THE MOUNTAIN-CABIN. "What's the news, Ben? You didn't happen to bring an evenin' paper, did you?" The speaker was a tall, loose-jointed man, dressed as a miner in a garb that appeared to have seen considerable service. His beard was long and untrimmed, and on his head he wore a Mexican sombrero. This was Jake Bradley, a rough but good-hearted miner, who was stretched... more...

I. Flora Lee’s birthday came in July. Her mother wished very much to celebrate the occasion in a proper manner. Flora was a good girl, and her parents were always glad to do any thing they could to please her, and to increase her happiness. They were very indulgent parents, and as they had plenty of money, they could afford to pay well for a “good time.” Yet they were not weak and silly in their... more...

On the east coast of England, there is a small hamlet surrounded by high sand-hills, with scarcely a blade of grass or even a low shrub to be seen in its neighbourhood. The only vegetable productions, indeed, which can flourish in that light soil, are the pale green rushes, whose roots serve to bind the sand together, and to prevent the high easterly winds, so constantly blowing on that coast,... more...