The Enchanted Castle

E. Nesbit

Description

“The Enchanted Castle” is a 1907 children's fantasy novel written by Edith Nesbit (1858 – 1924). Set in the West Country in England, the story follows three children—Gerald, James and Kathleen—and their discovery of an enchanted castle during the school holidays. A wonderful example of Nesbit's magical children's literature, “The enchanted castle” would make for perfect bedtime reading and is worthy of inclusion in any family collection. Edith Nesbit (1858 – 1924) was an English poet and author. She is perhaps best remembered for her children's literature, publishing more than 60 such books under the name E. Nesbit. She was also a political activist and co-founded the Fabian Society, which had a significant influence on the Labour Party and British politics in general. Other notable works by this author include: “The Prophet's Mantle” (1885), “Something Wrong” (1886), and “The Marden Mystery” (1896). Many vintage books such as this are becoming increasingly scarce and expensive. It is with this in mind that we are republishing this volume now in an affordable, modern, high-quality edition complete with a specially-commissioned new biography of the author.

Sujets

• Fairy Tales
• Young Adult Fiction
• Folklore

Informations

• Publié par: Read Books Ltd.
• Date de parution: 17 juin 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781528787543
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

The Enchanted Castle
By
E. NESBIT
AUTHOR OF The Story Of The Amulet, The Treasure Seekers, Etc.
With illustrations by
H. R. MILLAR

First published in 1907


This edition published by Read Books Ltd. Copyright © 2019 Read Books Ltd. This book is copyright and may not be
reproduced or copied in any way without
the express permission of the publisher in writing
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library




T o Margaret Ostler, with love from E. Nesbit


Contents
E. Nesbit
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII


Illustrations
The hall in which the children found themselves was the most beautiful place i n the world.
"Little deceiver !" She said.
Jimmy came in head first, like one diving into an unknown sea.
"It's the entrance to the enchanted castle," sa id kathleen.
"This is an enchanted garden and that's an enchan ted castle."
The red clue ran straight across the grass and by the sun-dial, and ended in a small brown hand.
The three stood breathless, awaiting the result.
"It's a game, isn't it?" Asked jimmy.
She was waiting for them with a candle in her hand.
Kathleen looking at herself in the little silver-fr amed mirror.
Backward and forw ard he went.
"Your shadow's not invisible, anyhow," said jimmy.
It was rather horrid to see the bread and butter waving about in the air.
"Halloa, missy, ain't you blacked yer bac k, neither!"
"You're getting at me. Let's see you do a bit of conjuring, since you're so clev er an' all."
"Stow it!" Cried the man, turning threateningl y on Gerald.
"What's that?" The policeman as ked quickly.
"I must go home—now—t his minute."
The moving stone beast.
The men were taking silver out of two g reat chests.
"Look here, Johnson," Gerald said, "what'll you give me if I put you up to winning that fifty pou nds reward?"
Gerald halted at the end of a little landing-stage of ro tten boards.
He staggered back against the water-butt.
"'E's lep' into the water," said Eliza in a rapt voice. "My, can't he sw im neither!"
It was Eliza, dishevelled, breathless, her hair coming down, her collar crooked, her dress twisted and disordered, who suddenly held out a hand.
She kissed him with little quick f rench pecks.
Down came the loveliest blue -black hair.
She saw that fully half a dozen of these chairs were occupied, and by the quee rest people.
A limp hand was laid on his arm.
"Wonder what lies he's telling them," Jim my grumbled.
It was a strange procession.
A painted pointed paper face peered out.
Jimmy shook the m to pieces.
Two hats were raised.
Mabel hands up the clothes and the sticks.
He cried out aloud in that crowded place: "I wish jimmy and I were inside that door behind the statu e of flora."
She sat down suddenly on the floor, and it was like a four-fold foot-rule foldin g itself up.
Kathleen had her wish: she w as a statue.
Mabel lay down, was covered u p, and left.
The monster lizard slipped heavily int o the water.
"What is it?" She asked, beginning to tremble. "What am I all this horrid colour for?"
Side by side the three swam.
It was a celes tial picnic.
The joys of dipping one's feet in cool ru nning water.
They stood still and looked at each other.
He became eager, alert , very keen.
The american fired again.


E. Nesbit
Edith Nesbit was born in Kennington, Surrey in 1858. Her family moved around constantly during her youth, living variously in Brighton, Buckinghamshire, France, Spain and Germany, before settling for three years in Halstead in north-west Kent, a location which later inspired her well-known novel, The Railway Children. In 1880, Nesbit married Hubert Bland, and her writing talents – which had been in evidence during her teens – were quickly needed to bring in e xtra money.
Over the course of her life, Nesbit would go on to publish approximately 40 books for children, including novels, collections of stories and picture books. Among her best-known works are The Story of the Treasure Seekers (1898), The Wouldbegoods (1899) and The Railway Children (1906). Nesbit is regarded by many critics as the first truly 'modern' children's writer, in that she replaced the fantastical worlds utilised by authors such as Lewis Carroll with real-life settings marked by the occasional intrusion of magic. In this, Nesbit is seen as a precursor to writers such as J. K. Rowling and C. S. Lewis. Nesbit was also a lifelong socialist; in 1884 she was among the founding members of the influential Fabian Society. For much of her adult life she was an active lecturer and prolific writer on socialism.
Having suffered from lung cancer for some years, Nesbit died in 1924 at New Romney, Ke nt, aged 65.


Peggy, you came from the heath and moor, And you brought their airs through my open door; You brought the blossom of youth to blow In the Latin Quarter of Soho. For the sake of that magic I send you here A tale of enchantments, Peggy dear, —A bit of my work, and a bit of my heart. . . The bit that you left when we had to part.
Septemb er 25, 1907. Royalty Chambe rs, Soho, W.





The hall in which the chi ldren found themselves was the most beautiful place i n the world.


CHAPTER I
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, an d 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 wr ite 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 Ger ald briefly.
"If we wrote a book," Kathleen persisted, "about what the insides of schools really are like, people would read it and say how clev er 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 m eals 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 lik ely as not."
"Oh, we'll see about that," said Gerald. "I'll go and talk to her lik e a father."
"Like that?" Kathleen pointed the thumb of scorn at him, and he looked i n 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 not