Children's periodicals Books

TWENTY MILES AN HOUR. It was the 6th of January, that great holiday in Russia, when the river Neva is consecrated with pomp and ceremony, when soldiers parade and priests say mass, and the Emperor is visible, and the cannon roar. And it was a gloriously bright and beautiful day; but Ivan and Olga, looking out on the broad street and the glittering pinnacles of the palace chapel, watching the sledges... more...

THE DANCE IN THE KITCHEN. Oh, that winter afternoon,Such a merry, merry tuneAs the jolly, fat tea-kettle chose its singing to begin!'Twas a lilting Scottish air,And it seemed, I do declare,As though bagpipe played by fairy was forever joining in. Then the bagpipe ceased to play,And another tune straightwaySang the kettle, louder, louder, till its voice grew very big;And the feet of laughing... more...

There were George and Bert, Sarah and the baby. "And you and I have pretty good appetites, Bert," George would say, whenever the Fieldens' finances were discussed, which, since the father's death, had been pretty often. "If we could only have staid on in the house in Fayetville! The garden was getting along so nicely, and now to think all the fruit and vegetables will be picked... more...

From the quaint old farm-house, nestling warmly'Neath its overhanging thatch of snow,Out into the moonlight troop the children,Filling all the air with music as they go,Gliding, sliding,Down the hill,Never mindingCold nor chill,O'er the silveredMoon-lit snow,Swift as arrowFrom the bow,With a rushOf mad delightThrough the crisp airOf the night,Speeding far outO'er the plain,Trudging... more...

There was one boy in the Merrit Academy who never joined in any of the games; never went skating; never went swimming; never made a snow man or threw snow-balls; never came to the meetings of the debating society, where such questions as, "If a fellow ask a fellow for a bite of a fellow's apple, which is the politer way to give it to a fellow—to bite off a piece yourself, or let a fellow... more...

His real name is Wallace, but his mates always called him "Wally," and although he is now a big broad-shouldered young mariner, he is still pointed out as the "wreck-boy." One summer not long ago Wally sailed with me for a week out upon the blue waters across the bar after blue-fish, or among the winding tide-water creeks for sheep's-head, and it was then, by means of many... more...

Chapter I. "The truth is, John," said Mr. Wilson to his brother, "I am troubled about my boy. Here it is the first of July, and he can't go back to school until the middle of September. He will be idle all that time, and I'm afraid he'll get into mischief. Now the other day I found him reading a wretched story about pirates. Why should a son of mine care to read about... more...

"Hello, Foster, what's that you're doing?—shooting with a bow and arrows?" "Yes, Stuart made 'em for me. Come in and try 'em." Harry came into the yard, where Foster was shooting at a collar box placed on a grassy bank, and made a few unsuccessful shots at twenty yards, when Foster took the bow, and hit the box frequently, to Harry's wonder and envy.... more...

"Well, boys, what do you think of this for a play-ground? Something like, ain't it?" And well might Tom Lockyer say so. To be out in the woods on a fine summer morning, with the whole day clear, is a pleasure which any boy can appreciate, more especially such an active one as Master Tom; and he and his two cousins had certainly enjoyed it to the utmost. Ever since breakfast they had been... more...

"Félix Delaroche, President." Such was the announcement which, posted in the quaint three-cornered market-place of the old French town of Longchamp, attracted a good many readers, and among the rest two lads in sailor costume, one of whom remarked to the other: "What a holiday we'd have if we could earn it! eh, Pierre, my boy?" "I should think so! But nobody will earn that... more...