Juvenile Fiction Books

AUNT AMY. As Minnie Brown was walking one day along the principal street of Rosedale, she met Arthur Ellerslie, who said to her,— “Minnie, there is a letter in the post office for you.” “A letter for me!” exclaimed the little girl, her bright eyes flashing at the bare idea of a letter being sent to her. “Yes, there is a letter for you, Minnie. I saw it myself in the post office window,”... more...

My father was a St. Bernard, my mother was a collie, but I am a Presbyterian. This is what my mother told me, I do not know these nice distinctions myself. To me they are only fine large words meaning nothing. My mother had a fondness for such; she liked to say them, and see other dogs look surprised and envious, as wondering how she got so much education. But, indeed, it was not real education; it was... more...

Dimple and Bubbles "Is yuh asleep, Miss Dimple?" "No," said Dimple, drowsily. "I'm are." "Why, Bubbles," replied Dimple, "if you were asleep you wouldn't be talking." "Folks talks in their sleep sometimes, Miss Dimple," answered Bubbles, opening her black eyes. "Well, maybe they do, but your eyes are open now." "I have heerd of... more...

Chapter One. The blue waters of the British Channel sparkled brightly in the rays of the sun, shining forth from a cloudless sky, as a light breeze from the northward filled the sails of a small yacht which glided smoothly along the southern coast of England. At the helm of the little vessel stood her owner, Captain Maynard, a retired naval officer. Next to his fair young daughter, Clara, the old... more...

THE OLD HOUSE. In the street, up there, was an old, a very old house,—it was almost three hundred years old, for that might be known by reading the great beam on which the date of the year was carved: together with tulips and hop-binds there were whole verses spelled as in former times, and over every window was a distorted face cut out in the beam. The one story stood forward a great way over the... more...

CHAPTER I SAME OLD OCEANTHREE girls stood on the beach watching the waves—the tireless, endless, continuous toss, break, splash; toss, break, splash! Always the same climbing combers smoothly traveling in from eternity, mounting their hills to the playful height of liquid summits, then rolling down in an ocean of foam, to splash on the beach into the most alluring of earth's play toys—the... more...

Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration I The twilight of a Christmas Eve, gray with the portent of coming snow, crept slowly over the old plantation of Brierwood, softening the outlines of a decrepit house still rearing its roof in massive dignity and a tumbledown barn flanked by barren fields. A quiet melancholy hovered about the old house as if it brooded over a host of bygone Yuletides alive with... more...

Donnybrook Fair. Jack began his story thus: Of course you’ve heard of Donnybrook Fair, close to the city of Dublin. What a strange scene it was, to be sure, of uproar and wild confusion—of quarrelling and fighting from beginning to end—of broken heads, of black eyes, and bruised shins—of shouting, of shrieking and swearing—of blasphemy and drunkenness in all its forms of brutality. Ay, and as... more...

The Blossoming Rod Mr. Langshaw had vaguely felt unusual preparations for a Christmas gift to him this year; he was always being asked for "change" to pay the children for services rendered. It might have seemed a pity that calculation as to dollars and cents entered so much into the Christmas festivities of the family, if it were not that it entered so largely into the scheme of living that it... more...

Jack Radburn, mate of the “Lily,” was as prime a seaman as ever broke biscuit. Brave, generous, and true, so said all the crew, as did also Captain Haiselden, with whom he had sailed since he had first been to sea. Yet so modest and gentle was he on shore that, in spite of his broad shoulders and sun-burnt brow, landsmen were apt to declare that “butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.” A finer... more...