Juvenile Nonfiction Books

WALK I. APRIL. WE could not have a more pleasant day, children, for a ramble in the fields than to-day. It is warm and bright, and the birds are singing merrily, thoroughly enjoying the sunshine; the little lambs are frisking about, and running races with each other. Put away lessons then, and we will have a holiday. "Oh," said Willy, "it will be so pleasant, and I will take one or two... more...

CHARLEY'S MUSEUM. Charley Carter was a bright, active lad, of twelve years old, the son of a farmer, who lived a few miles distant from Philadelphia. He was a very great favorite of his uncle Brown, his mother's brother, who was a wealthy merchant in the city. He was also a favorite of another brother of his mother, who had been, for many years a sea captain, sailing to all parts of the... more...

CHAPTER I. The hour was late and the theatres were emptying. The crowds, coming from every direction at once, were soon a confused, bewildered mass of elbowing humanity. In the proximity of Broadway and Forty-second Street, a mob of smartly-dressed people pushed unceremoniously this way and that. They swept the sidewalks like a resistless torrent, recklessly attempting to force a path across the... more...

Boys and Girls This is your book.You may read it.It tells a story.Read about the cows.They give milk.It is milk for you and me. Winifred Randell formerly withThe Laboratory School, The University of Chicago The cows are eating.They like green grass.The sun is shining.Cows need sunshine.They give milk every day.It is milk for you and me. Milking Time This is a clean barn.The cows are clean, too.The man... more...

I THE LITTLE FRICTION MATCH I remember being once upon a time ten miles from a store and one mile from a neighbor; the fire had gone out in the night, and the last match failed to blaze. We had no flint and steel. We were neither Indians nor Boy Scouts, and we did not know how to make a fire by twirling a stick. There was nothing to do but to trudge off through the snow to the neighbor a mile away and... more...

CHAPTER I. "PAUL!" The young man started, and a delicate flush mantled his handsome face, as he turned to the lady who had pronounced his name in a tone slightly indicative of surprise. "Ah! Mrs. Denison," was his simple response. "You seem unusually absent-minded this evening," remarked the lady. "Do I?" "Yes." "You have been observing me?" "I could... more...

CHAPTER I PHIL THE FIDDLER "Viva Garibaldi!" sang a young Italian boy in an uptown street, accompanying himself on a violin which, from its battered appearance, seemed to have met with hard usage. As the young singer is to be the hero of my story, I will pause to describe him. He was twelve years old, but small of his age. His complexion was a brilliant olive, with the dark eyes peculiar to his... more...

CHAPTER I Wherein Great Risks Are Taken and the Limberlost Guard Is Hired Freckles came down the corduroy that crosses the lower end of the Limberlost. At a glance he might have been mistaken for a tramp, but he was truly seeking work. He was intensely eager to belong somewhere and to be attached to almost any enterprise that would furnish him food and clothing. Long before he came in sight of the camp... more...

CHAPTER I A BOY AND HIS DOG Penrod sat morosely upon the back fence and gazed with envy at Duke, his wistful dog. A bitter soul dominated the various curved and angular surfaces known by a careless world as the face of Penrod Schofield. Except in solitude, that face was almost always cryptic and emotionless; for Penrod had come into his twelfth year wearing an expression carefully trained to be... more...

OUT IN A STORM."What do you think of this storm, Joe?" "I think it is going to be a heavy one, Ned. I wish we were back home," replied Joe Bodley, as he looked at the heavy clouds which overhung Lake Tandy. "Do you think we'll catch much rain before we get back?" And Ned, who was the son of a rich man and well dressed, looked at the new suit of clothes that he wore.... more...