Books with title The Lost Prince by Frances Hodgson Burnett, Juvenile Fiction, Classics, Family

Frances Eliza Hodgson Burnett (24 November 1849 – 29 October 1924) was a British-born American novelist and playwright. She is best known for the three children's novels Little Lord Fauntleroy (published in 1885–1886), A Little Princess (1905), and The Secret Garden (1911).There are many dreary and dingy rows of ugly houses in certain parts of London, but there certainly could not be any row more ugly or dingier than Philibert Place. There were stories that it had once been more attractive, but that had been so long ago that no one remembered the time. It stood back in its gloomy, narrow strips of uncared-for, smoky gardens, whose broken iron railings were supposed to protect it from the surging traffic of a road which was always roaring with the rattle of busses, cabs, drays, and vans, and the passing of people who were shabbily dressed and looked as if they were either going to hard work or coming from it, or hurrying to see if they could find some of it to do to keep themselves from going hungry.

Sara has a unusual look of maturity about her, for a seven-year-old child. She has seen a great deal of the world. She has felt the blazing sun in Bombay, India, and has crossed the ocean -- and now is somewhere that seems utterly strange to her . . . a foggy and damp city named London. Her new place in life seems to offer few attractions: Miss Minchin's Select Seminary. Yet Sara takes her place in the seminary's classrooms, and soon finds herself building unconventional friendships -- with girls whom the other students seem not to notice at all. Then comes news from her father -- that he will become partner in diamond mines in India!

Olivia Ferrol had been at Oakvale Springs for two weeks. She was alone, out of her element, and knew nobody. The fact that she was a New Yorker, and had never before been so far South, was rather against her. On her arrival she had been glanced over and commented upon with candor."She is a Yankee," said the pretty and remarkably youthful-looking mother of an apparently grown-up family from New Orleans. "You can see it."And though the remark was not meant to be exactly severe, Olivia felt that it was very severe, indeed, under existing circumstances. She heard it as she was giving her orders for breakfast to her own particular jet-black and highly excitable waiter, and she felt guilty at once and blushed, hastily taking a sip of ice-water to conceal her confusion.

Little Sara Crewe was eight years old, she had been brought to Miss Minchin as a pupil, and left with her. Her papa had brought her all the way from India. Her mamma had died when she was a baby, and her papa had kept her with him as long as he could. And then, finding the hot climate was making her very delicate, he had brought her to England and left her with Miss Minchin, to be part of the Select Seminary for Young Ladies. Sara, who had always been a sharp little child, who remembered things, recollected hearing him say that he had not a relative in the world whom he knew of, and so he was obliged to place her at a boarding-school, and he had heard Miss Minchin's establishment spoken of very highly. The same day, he took Sara out and bought her a great many beautiful clothes -- clothes so grand and rich that only a very young and inexperienced man would have bought them for a mite of a child . . .

Ysobel might have had the most isolated and lonely of childhoods, there in the feudal castle in Muircarrie moor. Yet the parentless child has the company of Jean and Angus, who look after her -- and now she has found a playmate, who is brought to her one misty day by a tall, gaunt chieftain with a star-shaped scar upon his forehead, and who rides a black horse. For a brief time the moor comes alive with the sounds of the two girls at play -- until the new girl whirls around a bush, and utterly vanishes. "Where did she go?" Ysobel says to Jean and Angus, when she finds them again. "It was Dark Malcolm of the Glen," says Angus, after hearing her out. "And the girl -- Wee Brown Elspeth!" "But she is white -- quite white!" said Ysobel. Jean sweeps the shivering Ysobel into her warm arms, hugging her close to her breast, and says, "She's one of the fair ones. She'll come often, I dare say!"

Ysobel might have had the most isolated and lonely of childhoods, there in the feudal castle in Muircarrie moor. Yet the parentless child has the company of Jean and Angus, who look after her -- and now she has found a playmate, who is brought to her one misty day by a tall, gaunt chieftain with a star-shaped scar upon his forehead, and who rides a black horse. For a brief time the moor comes alive with the sounds of the two girls at play -- until the new girl whirls around a bush, and utterly vanishes. "Where did she go?" Ysobel says to Jean and Angus, when she finds them again. "It was Dark Malcolm of the Glen," says Angus, after hearing her out. "And the girl -- Wee Brown Elspeth!" "But she is white -- quite white!" said Ysobel.

Little curly-haired Cedric had no idea he looked like a young lord. For that matter, he had no idea what a lord was. His greatest friend was that cross, opinionated groceryman at the corner, Mr. Hobbs -- who was never cross with him. One day while visiting Mr. Hobbs, Cedric was called to hurry home. There his eyes met those of a tall old gentleman, splendidly dressed, who rubbed his thin chin with one bony hand. He seemed not at all displeased with what he saw. "And so," said the man at last, slowly, "and so -- this is little Lord Fauntleroy!"

Sara has a unusual look of maturity about her, for a seven-year-old child. She has seen a great deal of the world. She has felt the blazing sun in Bombay, India, and has crossed the ocean -- and now is somewhere that seems utterly strange to her . . . a foggy and damp city named London. Her new place in life seems to offer few attractions: Miss Minchin's Select Seminary. Yet Sara takes her place in the seminary's classrooms, and soon finds herself building unconventional friendships -- with girls whom the other students seem not to notice at all. Then comes news from her father -- that he will become partner in diamond mines in India!

Little Sara Crewe was eight years old, she had been brought to Miss Minchin as a pupil, and left with her. Her papa had brought her all the way from India. Her mamma had died when she was a baby, and her papa had kept her with him as long as he could. And then, finding the hot climate was making her very delicate, he had brought her to England and left her with Miss Minchin, to be part of the Select Seminary for Young Ladies. Sara, who had always been a sharp little child, who remembered things, recollected hearing him say that he had not a relative in the world whom he knew of, and so he was obliged to place her at a boarding-school, and he had heard Miss Minchin's establishment spoken of very highly. The same day, he took Sara out and bought her a great many beautiful clothes -- clothes so grand and rich that only a very young and inexperienced man would have bought them for a mite of a child . . .

When orphaned Mary Lennox was sent off to Misselthwaite Manor to live with her uncle, everybody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. It was true, too. She had a little thin face and a little thin body, thin light hair and a sour expression. Her hair was yellow, and her face was yellow because she had been born in India and had always been ill in one way or another. Indeed, she was "Mistress Mary, Quite Contrary," through and through! Yet there was something strange about the place she was heading for. Said Mrs. Medlock to Mary beforehand, "Do you know anything about your uncle?" "No," said Mary frowning. She frowned because she remembered how her father and mother had never talked to her about anything in particular. "Humph," muttered Mrs. Medlock, staring at Mary's queer, unresponsive little face for a few moments. Then she said, "I suppose you might as well be told something, to prepare you. You are going to a rather queer place!"