Juvenile Fiction Books

PROLOGUE A STORY BEFORE THE STORY On a green hillside a girl lay prone in the sweet grass, very still that she might not, by the slightest quiver, disturb the beauty that was about her. There was so very, very much beauty—the sky, azure blue overhead and paling where it touched the green-fringed earth; the whispering tree under which she lay, the lush meadow grass, moving like waves of a sea, the... more...

An interrupted Bathe. It was a desperately hot day. There had been no day like it all the summer. Indeed, Squires, the head gardener at Garden Vale, positively asserted that there had been none like it since he had been employed on the place, which was fourteen years last March. Squires, by the way, never lost an opportunity of reminding himself and the world generally of the length of his services to... more...

CHAPTER I. “Welcome,” said Mr. Draper, the rich merchant, to his brother, who entered his counting-room one fine spring morning.  “I am truly glad to see you—but what has brought you to the city, at this busy country season, when ploughing and planting are its life and sinews?” “A motive,” said Howard, smiling, “that I am sure will need no apology with you—business!  I have acquired... more...

WHO I AM Yes, my name is Richard Mutton. Sounds rather queer, doesn't it? The lads in London town used to vex me sorely by calling, "Baa, baa, black sheep," whenever I passed them, and yet he who will may find the name Richard Mutton written in the list of those who were sent to Virginia, in the new world, by the London Company, on the nineteenth day of December, in the year of Our Lord,... more...

Ride with Morgan The stocky roan switched tail angrily against a persistent fly and lipped water, dripping big drops back to the surface of the brook. His rider moved swiftly, with an economy of action, to unsaddle, wipe the besweated back with a wisp of last year's dried grass, and wash down each mud-spattered leg with stream water. Always care for the mount first—when a man's life, as... more...

CHAPTER I. During the noon intermission of a sunny April day a small group of boys assembled near the steps of Oakdale Academy to talk baseball; for the opening of the season was at hand, and the germ of the game had already begun to make itself felt in their blood. Roger Eliot, the grave, reliable, steady-headed captain of the nine, who had scored such a pronounced success as captain of the eleven the... more...

The Rover’s Return. On a certain summer morning, about the middle of the present century, a big bluff man, of seafaring aspect, found himself sauntering in a certain street near London Bridge. He was a man of above fifty, but looked under forty in consequence of the healthful vigour of his frame, the freshness of his saltwater face, and the blackness of his shaggy hair. Although his gait, pilot-cloth... more...

Two Travellers. “Don’t they bite, sir?” “Bite?” Smick! smack! flap! “Oh, murder!” “What’s the matter, sir?” “My hand.” “Hurt it, sir?” “I should think I have.” “You should wait till they’ve sucked ’emselves full and then hit ’em; they’re lazy then. Too quick for you now.” “The wretches! I shall be spotted all over, like a currant dumpling. I say, Shaddy, do... more...

CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE IN THE LANE. It stood not very far from the corner—the corner where the lane turned off from the high-road. And it suited its name, or its name suited it. It was such a pretty, cosy-looking house, much larger really than it seemed at the first glance, for it spread out wonderfully at the back. It was red too—the out-jutting front, where the deep porch was, looking specially... more...

THE FOX AND THE COCK. A Fox, one day, saw a Cock on the roof of a barn. “Come to me, my dear Master Cock,” said he; “I have always heard you are such a clever fellow; and I want to ask you a riddle.” Glad to hear himself praised, the foolish Cock came down, and the Fox caught him, and ate him in a moment. The praise of the wicked is always dangerous. A Dwarf one day met a Giant. “Let me come... more...