The prolific author of the Bastables and “Five Children and It” created adventures that still capture the magic of childhood. Essay by Michael Dirda.
The Enchanted Castle is a children's fantasy novel by Edith Nesbit published in 1907.
THERE were three of them--Jerry, Jimmy, and Kathleen. Of course, Jerry's
name was Gerald, and not Jeremiah, whatever you may think; and Jimmy's
name was James; and Kathleen was never called by her name at all, but
Cathy, or Catty, or Puss Cat, when her brothers were pleased with her,
and Scratch Cat when they were not pleased. And they were at school in a
little town in the West of England--the boys at one school, of course,
and the girl at another, because the sensible habit of having boys and
girls at the same school is not yet as common as I hope it will be some
day. They used to see each other on Saturdays and Sundays at the house
of a kind maiden lady; but it was one of those houses where it is
impossible to play. You know the kind of house, don't you? There is a
sort of a something about that kind of house that makes you hardly able
even to talk to each other when you are left alone, and playing seems
unnatural and affected. So they looked forward to the holidays, when
they should all go home and be together all day long, in a house where
playing was natural and conversation possible, and where the Hampshire
forests and fields were full of interesting things to do and see. Their
Cousin Betty was to be there too, and there were plans. Betty's school
broke up before theirs, and so she got to the Hampshire home first, and
the moment she got there she began to have measles, so that my three
couldn't go home at all. You may imagine their feelings. The thought of
seven weeks at Miss Hervey's was not to be borne, and all three wrote
home and said so. This astonished their parents very much, because they
had always thought it was so nice for the children to have dear Miss
Hervey's to go to. However, they were "jolly decent about it," as Jerry
said, and after a lot of letters and telegrams, it was arranged that the
boys should go and stay at Kathleen's school, where there were now no
girls left and no mistresses except the French one.
"It'll be better than being at Miss Hervey's," said Kathleen, when the
boys came round to ask Mademoiselle when it would be convenient for them
to come; "and, besides, our school's not half so ugly as yours. We do
have tablecloths on the tables and curtains at the windows, and yours is
all deal boards, and desks, and inkiness."
When they had gone to pack their boxes Kathleen made all the rooms as
pretty as she could with flowers in jam jars, marigolds chiefly,
because there was nothing much else in the back garden. There were
geraniums in the front garden, and calceolarias and lobelias; of course,
the children were not allowed to pick these.
"We ought to have some sort of play to keep us going through the
holidays," said Kathleen, when tea was over, and she had unpacked and
arranged the boys' clothes in the painted chests of drawers, feeling
very grown-up and careful as she neatly laid the different sorts of
clothes in tidy little heaps in the drawers. "Suppose we write a book."
"You couldn't," said Jimmy.
"I didn't mean me, of course," said Kathleen, a little injured; "I meant
us."
"Too much fag," said Gerald briefly.
"If we wrote a book," Kathleen persisted, "about what the insides of
schools really _are_ like, people would read it and say how clever we
were."
"More likely expel us," said Gerald. "No; we'll have an out-of-doors
game--bandits, or something like that. It wouldn't be bad if we could
get a cave and keep stores in it, and have our meals there."
"There aren't any caves," said Jimmy, who was fond of contradicting
every one. "And, besides, your precious Mamselle won't let us go out
alone, as likely as not."
"Oh, we'll see about that," said Gerald. "I'll go and talk to her like a
father."
"Like that?" Kathleen pointed the thumb of scorn at him, and he looked
in the glass.
"To brush his hair and his clothes and to wash his face and hands was to
our hero but the work of a moment," said Gerald, and went to suit the
action to the word.
It was a very sleek boy, brown and thin and interesting-looking, that
knocked at the door of the parlour where Mademoiselle sat reading a
yellow-covered book and wishing vain wishes. Gerald could always make
himself look interesting at a moment's notice, a very useful
accomplishment in dealing with strange grown-ups. It was done by opening
his grey eyes rather wide, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop,
and assuming a gentle, pleading expression, resembling that of the late
little Lord Fauntleroy--who must, by the way, be quite old now, and an
awful prig.
"1100047039"
THERE were three of them--Jerry, Jimmy, and Kathleen. Of course, Jerry's
name was Gerald, and not Jeremiah, whatever you may think; and Jimmy's
name was James; and Kathleen was never called by her name at all, but
Cathy, or Catty, or Puss Cat, when her brothers were pleased with her,
and Scratch Cat when they were not pleased. And they were at school in a
little town in the West of England--the boys at one school, of course,
and the girl at another, because the sensible habit of having boys and
girls at the same school is not yet as common as I hope it will be some
day. They used to see each other on Saturdays and Sundays at the house
of a kind maiden lady; but it was one of those houses where it is
impossible to play. You know the kind of house, don't you? There is a
sort of a something about that kind of house that makes you hardly able
even to talk to each other when you are left alone, and playing seems
unnatural and affected. So they looked forward to the holidays, when
they should all go home and be together all day long, in a house where
playing was natural and conversation possible, and where the Hampshire
forests and fields were full of interesting things to do and see. Their
Cousin Betty was to be there too, and there were plans. Betty's school
broke up before theirs, and so she got to the Hampshire home first, and
the moment she got there she began to have measles, so that my three
couldn't go home at all. You may imagine their feelings. The thought of
seven weeks at Miss Hervey's was not to be borne, and all three wrote
home and said so. This astonished their parents very much, because they
had always thought it was so nice for the children to have dear Miss
Hervey's to go to. However, they were "jolly decent about it," as Jerry
said, and after a lot of letters and telegrams, it was arranged that the
boys should go and stay at Kathleen's school, where there were now no
girls left and no mistresses except the French one.
"It'll be better than being at Miss Hervey's," said Kathleen, when the
boys came round to ask Mademoiselle when it would be convenient for them
to come; "and, besides, our school's not half so ugly as yours. We do
have tablecloths on the tables and curtains at the windows, and yours is
all deal boards, and desks, and inkiness."
When they had gone to pack their boxes Kathleen made all the rooms as
pretty as she could with flowers in jam jars, marigolds chiefly,
because there was nothing much else in the back garden. There were
geraniums in the front garden, and calceolarias and lobelias; of course,
the children were not allowed to pick these.
"We ought to have some sort of play to keep us going through the
holidays," said Kathleen, when tea was over, and she had unpacked and
arranged the boys' clothes in the painted chests of drawers, feeling
very grown-up and careful as she neatly laid the different sorts of
clothes in tidy little heaps in the drawers. "Suppose we write a book."
"You couldn't," said Jimmy.
"I didn't mean me, of course," said Kathleen, a little injured; "I meant
us."
"Too much fag," said Gerald briefly.
"If we wrote a book," Kathleen persisted, "about what the insides of
schools really _are_ like, people would read it and say how clever we
were."
"More likely expel us," said Gerald. "No; we'll have an out-of-doors
game--bandits, or something like that. It wouldn't be bad if we could
get a cave and keep stores in it, and have our meals there."
"There aren't any caves," said Jimmy, who was fond of contradicting
every one. "And, besides, your precious Mamselle won't let us go out
alone, as likely as not."
"Oh, we'll see about that," said Gerald. "I'll go and talk to her like a
father."
"Like that?" Kathleen pointed the thumb of scorn at him, and he looked
in the glass.
"To brush his hair and his clothes and to wash his face and hands was to
our hero but the work of a moment," said Gerald, and went to suit the
action to the word.
It was a very sleek boy, brown and thin and interesting-looking, that
knocked at the door of the parlour where Mademoiselle sat reading a
yellow-covered book and wishing vain wishes. Gerald could always make
himself look interesting at a moment's notice, a very useful
accomplishment in dealing with strange grown-ups. It was done by opening
his grey eyes rather wide, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop,
and assuming a gentle, pleading expression, resembling that of the late
little Lord Fauntleroy--who must, by the way, be quite old now, and an
awful prig.
The Enchanted Castle
The Enchanted Castle is a children's fantasy novel by Edith Nesbit published in 1907.
THERE were three of them--Jerry, Jimmy, and Kathleen. Of course, Jerry's
name was Gerald, and not Jeremiah, whatever you may think; and Jimmy's
name was James; and Kathleen was never called by her name at all, but
Cathy, or Catty, or Puss Cat, when her brothers were pleased with her,
and Scratch Cat when they were not pleased. And they were at school in a
little town in the West of England--the boys at one school, of course,
and the girl at another, because the sensible habit of having boys and
girls at the same school is not yet as common as I hope it will be some
day. They used to see each other on Saturdays and Sundays at the house
of a kind maiden lady; but it was one of those houses where it is
impossible to play. You know the kind of house, don't you? There is a
sort of a something about that kind of house that makes you hardly able
even to talk to each other when you are left alone, and playing seems
unnatural and affected. So they looked forward to the holidays, when
they should all go home and be together all day long, in a house where
playing was natural and conversation possible, and where the Hampshire
forests and fields were full of interesting things to do and see. Their
Cousin Betty was to be there too, and there were plans. Betty's school
broke up before theirs, and so she got to the Hampshire home first, and
the moment she got there she began to have measles, so that my three
couldn't go home at all. You may imagine their feelings. The thought of
seven weeks at Miss Hervey's was not to be borne, and all three wrote
home and said so. This astonished their parents very much, because they
had always thought it was so nice for the children to have dear Miss
Hervey's to go to. However, they were "jolly decent about it," as Jerry
said, and after a lot of letters and telegrams, it was arranged that the
boys should go and stay at Kathleen's school, where there were now no
girls left and no mistresses except the French one.
"It'll be better than being at Miss Hervey's," said Kathleen, when the
boys came round to ask Mademoiselle when it would be convenient for them
to come; "and, besides, our school's not half so ugly as yours. We do
have tablecloths on the tables and curtains at the windows, and yours is
all deal boards, and desks, and inkiness."
When they had gone to pack their boxes Kathleen made all the rooms as
pretty as she could with flowers in jam jars, marigolds chiefly,
because there was nothing much else in the back garden. There were
geraniums in the front garden, and calceolarias and lobelias; of course,
the children were not allowed to pick these.
"We ought to have some sort of play to keep us going through the
holidays," said Kathleen, when tea was over, and she had unpacked and
arranged the boys' clothes in the painted chests of drawers, feeling
very grown-up and careful as she neatly laid the different sorts of
clothes in tidy little heaps in the drawers. "Suppose we write a book."
"You couldn't," said Jimmy.
"I didn't mean me, of course," said Kathleen, a little injured; "I meant
us."
"Too much fag," said Gerald briefly.
"If we wrote a book," Kathleen persisted, "about what the insides of
schools really _are_ like, people would read it and say how clever we
were."
"More likely expel us," said Gerald. "No; we'll have an out-of-doors
game--bandits, or something like that. It wouldn't be bad if we could
get a cave and keep stores in it, and have our meals there."
"There aren't any caves," said Jimmy, who was fond of contradicting
every one. "And, besides, your precious Mamselle won't let us go out
alone, as likely as not."
"Oh, we'll see about that," said Gerald. "I'll go and talk to her like a
father."
"Like that?" Kathleen pointed the thumb of scorn at him, and he looked
in the glass.
"To brush his hair and his clothes and to wash his face and hands was to
our hero but the work of a moment," said Gerald, and went to suit the
action to the word.
It was a very sleek boy, brown and thin and interesting-looking, that
knocked at the door of the parlour where Mademoiselle sat reading a
yellow-covered book and wishing vain wishes. Gerald could always make
himself look interesting at a moment's notice, a very useful
accomplishment in dealing with strange grown-ups. It was done by opening
his grey eyes rather wide, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop,
and assuming a gentle, pleading expression, resembling that of the late
little Lord Fauntleroy--who must, by the way, be quite old now, and an
awful prig.
THERE were three of them--Jerry, Jimmy, and Kathleen. Of course, Jerry's
name was Gerald, and not Jeremiah, whatever you may think; and Jimmy's
name was James; and Kathleen was never called by her name at all, but
Cathy, or Catty, or Puss Cat, when her brothers were pleased with her,
and Scratch Cat when they were not pleased. And they were at school in a
little town in the West of England--the boys at one school, of course,
and the girl at another, because the sensible habit of having boys and
girls at the same school is not yet as common as I hope it will be some
day. They used to see each other on Saturdays and Sundays at the house
of a kind maiden lady; but it was one of those houses where it is
impossible to play. You know the kind of house, don't you? There is a
sort of a something about that kind of house that makes you hardly able
even to talk to each other when you are left alone, and playing seems
unnatural and affected. So they looked forward to the holidays, when
they should all go home and be together all day long, in a house where
playing was natural and conversation possible, and where the Hampshire
forests and fields were full of interesting things to do and see. Their
Cousin Betty was to be there too, and there were plans. Betty's school
broke up before theirs, and so she got to the Hampshire home first, and
the moment she got there she began to have measles, so that my three
couldn't go home at all. You may imagine their feelings. The thought of
seven weeks at Miss Hervey's was not to be borne, and all three wrote
home and said so. This astonished their parents very much, because they
had always thought it was so nice for the children to have dear Miss
Hervey's to go to. However, they were "jolly decent about it," as Jerry
said, and after a lot of letters and telegrams, it was arranged that the
boys should go and stay at Kathleen's school, where there were now no
girls left and no mistresses except the French one.
"It'll be better than being at Miss Hervey's," said Kathleen, when the
boys came round to ask Mademoiselle when it would be convenient for them
to come; "and, besides, our school's not half so ugly as yours. We do
have tablecloths on the tables and curtains at the windows, and yours is
all deal boards, and desks, and inkiness."
When they had gone to pack their boxes Kathleen made all the rooms as
pretty as she could with flowers in jam jars, marigolds chiefly,
because there was nothing much else in the back garden. There were
geraniums in the front garden, and calceolarias and lobelias; of course,
the children were not allowed to pick these.
"We ought to have some sort of play to keep us going through the
holidays," said Kathleen, when tea was over, and she had unpacked and
arranged the boys' clothes in the painted chests of drawers, feeling
very grown-up and careful as she neatly laid the different sorts of
clothes in tidy little heaps in the drawers. "Suppose we write a book."
"You couldn't," said Jimmy.
"I didn't mean me, of course," said Kathleen, a little injured; "I meant
us."
"Too much fag," said Gerald briefly.
"If we wrote a book," Kathleen persisted, "about what the insides of
schools really _are_ like, people would read it and say how clever we
were."
"More likely expel us," said Gerald. "No; we'll have an out-of-doors
game--bandits, or something like that. It wouldn't be bad if we could
get a cave and keep stores in it, and have our meals there."
"There aren't any caves," said Jimmy, who was fond of contradicting
every one. "And, besides, your precious Mamselle won't let us go out
alone, as likely as not."
"Oh, we'll see about that," said Gerald. "I'll go and talk to her like a
father."
"Like that?" Kathleen pointed the thumb of scorn at him, and he looked
in the glass.
"To brush his hair and his clothes and to wash his face and hands was to
our hero but the work of a moment," said Gerald, and went to suit the
action to the word.
It was a very sleek boy, brown and thin and interesting-looking, that
knocked at the door of the parlour where Mademoiselle sat reading a
yellow-covered book and wishing vain wishes. Gerald could always make
himself look interesting at a moment's notice, a very useful
accomplishment in dealing with strange grown-ups. It was done by opening
his grey eyes rather wide, allowing the corners of his mouth to droop,
and assuming a gentle, pleading expression, resembling that of the late
little Lord Fauntleroy--who must, by the way, be quite old now, and an
awful prig.
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The Enchanted Castle
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Product Details
| BN ID: | 2940012192844 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | SAP |
| Publication date: | 02/13/2011 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| File size: | 186 KB |
| Age Range: | 6 - 8 Years |
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