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    Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Classic Children's Fiction
    Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Classic Children's Fiction
    Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Classic Children's Fiction
    Ebook55 pages1 hour

    Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Classic Children's Fiction

    By James Matthew Barrie

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    About this ebook

    When Mary runs away to Kensington Gardens all she knows is she does not want to grow up but when she runs into her Father she is sure the game is up. Instead they embark on a voyage of self-discovery, as Mary learns the truth of how one boy, named Peter, became ‘The boy who would not grow up’. J.M.Barrie’s 1906 prequel, intoduces lots of new characters and expands the Peter Pan mythology; once again proving to children and the young at heart that all the best adventures lead you home. Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens is a novel by J. M. Barrie, published in 1906; it is one of four major literary works by Barrie featuring the widely known literary character he created, Peter Pan.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDiamond Book Publishing
    Release dateJan 21, 2020
    ISBN9788835361688
    Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens: Classic Children's Fiction
    Author

    James Matthew Barrie

    J.M. Barrie, the son of a weaver, was born near Dundee, Scotland, in 1860. He was a journalist and novelist and began writing for the stage in 1892. Peter Pan, first produced in London on December 27, 1904, was an immediate success. The story of Peter Pan first appeared in book form (titled Peter and Wendy, and later Peter Pan and Wendy) in 1911. Barrie died in 1937, bequeathing the copyright of Peter Pan to the Great Ormond Street Hospital in London, a hospital for children.

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      Book preview

      Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens - James Matthew Barrie

      PETER PAN

      If you ask your mother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a little girl she will say, Why, of course, I did, child, and if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days she will say, What a foolish question to ask, certainly he did. Then if you ask your grandmother whether she knew about Peter Pan when she was a girl, she also says, Why, of course, I did, child, but if you ask her whether he rode on a goat in those days, she says she never heard of his having a goat. Perhaps she has forgotten, just as she sometimes forgets your name and calls you Mildred, which is your mother’s name. Still, she could hardly forget such an important thing as the goat. Therefore there was no goat when your grandmother was a little girl. This shows that, in telling the story of Peter Pan, to begin with the goat (as most people do) is as silly as to put on your jacket before your vest.

      Of course, it also shows that Peter is ever so old, but he is really always the same age, so that does not matter in the least. His age is one week, and though he was born so long ago he has never had a birthday, nor is there the slightest chance of his ever having one. The reason is that he escaped from being a human when he was seven days’ old; he escaped by the window and flew back to the Kensington Gardens.

      If you think he was the only baby who ever wanted to escape, it shows how completely you have forgotten your own young days. When David heard this story first he was quite certain that he had never tried to escape, but I told him to think back hard, pressing his hands to his temples, and when he had done this hard, and even harder, he distinctly remembered a youthful desire to return to the tree-tops, and with that memory came others, as that he had lain in bed planning to escape as soon as his mother was asleep, and how she had once caught him half-way up the chimney. All children could have such recollections if they would press their hands hard to their temples, for, having been birds before they were human, they are naturally a little wild during the first few weeks, and very itchy at the shoulders, where their wings used to be. So David tells me.

      I ought to mention here that the following is our way with a story: First, I tell it to him, and then he tells it to me, the understanding being that it is quite a different story; and then I retell it with his additions, and so we go on until no one could say whether it is more his story or mine. In this story of Peter Pan, for instance, the bald narrative and most of the moral reflections are mine, though not all, for this boy can be a stern moralist, but the interesting bits about the ways and customs of babies in the bird-stage are mostly reminiscences of David’s, recalled by pressing his hands to his temples and thinking hard.

      Well, Peter Pan got out by the window, which had no bars. Standing on the ledge he could see trees far away, which were doubtless the Kensington Gardens, and the moment he saw them he entirely forgot that he was now a little boy in a nightgown, and away he flew, right over the houses to the Gardens. It is wonderful that he could fly without wings, but the place itched tremendously, and, perhaps we could all fly if we were as dead-confident-sure of our capacity to do it as was bold Peter Pan that evening.

      He alighted gaily on the open sward, between the Baby’s Palace and the Serpentine, and the first thing he did was to lie on his back and kick. He was quite unaware already that he had ever been human, and thought he was a bird, even in appearance, just the same as in his early days, and when he tried to catch a fly he did not understand that the reason he missed it was because he had attempted to seize it with his hand, which, of course, a bird never does. He saw, however, that it must be past Lock-out Time, for there were a good many fairies about, all too busy to notice him; they were getting breakfast ready, milking their cows, drawing water, and so on, and the sight of the water-pails made him thirsty, so he flew over to the Round Pond to have a drink. He stooped, and dipped

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