About 254 minutes
Five Children and It — Background and Themes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
58,219 recorded words. 20 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #778The source record for Paul Prescott's Charge — Story, Setting & Ideas measures this digital text at 62,833 words, 4 hr 34 min estimated reading time, and 10 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 12.7 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Orphans -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Explore this collection
These alternatives are selected using recorded categories and estimated reading time.
About 254 minutes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
58,219 recorded words. 20 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #778About 299 minutes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
68,724 recorded words. 25 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #59775About 215 minutes
Fantasy Juvenile Worlds
49,224 recorded words. 59 minutes difference from this book's estimate.
View Gutenberg source #496Search stored excerpts and compare books → Choose by your preferences →
Choices use stored catalog measurements. Estimates vary with reading speed. A shared category is a catalog label, not a claim that two books have the same argument or literary quality.
Search reads excerpt text stored with this catalog and links to its associated Gutenberg record. The connection is stored in the site database; this tool does not recheck that every excerpt is word-for-word identical to that external record. Excerpt search does not cover every chapter and does not verify historical publication dates.
Catalog snapshot checked: 2026-09-25. Coverage: 95 public books, 95 available source excerpts.
Read the complete public-domain text at its original source.
Read on Project GutenbergFrom the opening line—a sharp "HANNAH!"—Horatio Alger Jr. establishes a world of rigid authority and playful resistance. The narrator describes Squire Benjamin Newcome as "a tall, pompous-looking man" who sits "bolt upright in a high-backed chair," a posture that mirrors his "measured" walk, utterance, and transactions. This initial portrait, built on repetition of the word "measured," immediately signals a character defined by control and self-importance. Yet the narrative voice undercuts this dignity with dry humor, calling him "a dignified machine."
Alger's dialogue choices sharpen the contrast between the Squire's formal, circuitous speech—"I apprehend that we are wandering from the question"—and his son Ben's direct, mischievous replies. Ben's feigned deafness in the exchange with the traveler showcases Alger's use of miscommunication as both a comic device and a subtle critique of adult authority. The narrator's aside, "I desire my young readers to understand that I am describing Ben as he was, and not as he ought to be," reveals a deliberate pedagogical stance, blending entertainment with moral instruction.
Alger characterizes Squire Newcome through a lexicon of rigidity. Words like "pompous-looking," "unbending rigidity," and "dignified machine" accumulate to create a figure of mechanical authority. The Squire's speech is formal and indirect: he says "I apprehend that we are wandering from the question" rather than scolding directly. This circumlocution contrasts with Ben's bluntness. When the Squire asks about a tin pail tied to a dog's tail, he hesitates—"to your—ahem! your coat tail"—the interjection "ahem" signaling his discomfort with vulgarity. Alger uses such verbal tics to expose the Squire's self-conscious dignity, making him a target of gentle satire.
Ben Newcome's dialogue is a study in calculated innocence. When the traveler asks for directions, Ben responds with exaggerated politeness—"Fine morning, sir"—and feigned deafness, forcing the man to repeat himself. The narrator notes Ben's "eyes dancing with fun," revealing the mischief behind his courteous mask. Alger scripts Ben's replies to escalate the misunderstanding: "Yes, sir, this is Wrenville" deliberately misinterprets the question. This scene demonstrates Alger's skill in using dialogue to show character: Ben's wit is a form of resistance against adult authority, while the traveler's frustration—"I believe you're all deaf in this town"—underscores the comedy of failed communication.
Alger employs deafness twice in quick succession: first Ben's pretended deafness, then old Tom Haven's genuine hardness of hearing. The traveler, already exasperated, encounters a second deaf person, leading him to flee the town. This repetition creates a comic rhythm. The narrator's aside—"I desire my young readers to understand that I am describing Ben as he was, and not as he ought to be"—breaks the fourth wall, framing the mischief as a lesson. Alger uses physical impairment not cruelly but as a plot mechanism that highlights the gap between appearance and reality: Ben's feigned deafness is a performance, while Tom's is real, yet both produce the same outcome.
Alger's narrator frequently interjects with moral commentary, as when he notes that Ben "carried his love of fun too far" and hopes he "will grow wiser." These asides are part of the Campaign Series' stated aim: to show that "success depends upon integrity and a steadfast adherence to duty." Descriptively, Alger is economical: the Squire's high-backed chair, the postmaster's spectacles, and the "small building" of the post office are sketched with minimal detail, focusing attention on dialogue and action. This spare style keeps the narrative brisk, aligning with the book's didactic purpose while allowing comic scenes to breathe.
Readers attentive to Alger's craft will notice how he balances humor with moral instruction through precise diction and dialogue. The contrast between the Squire's pomposity and Ben's cleverness is not merely entertaining but structurally central to the novel's exploration of authority and integrity. As you read, observe how Alger uses repeated words—"measured," "deaf"—to build character and comic situations. The author's voice, at once playful and earnest, invites young readers to laugh while learning the value of honesty and perseverance.
That rainy afternoon, I kept noticing how Alger’s comic deafness in Paul Prescott’s Charge sharpened every missed word into a small, lonely echo. Finished, I set it down, and my hand drifted to The Works of Edgar Allan Poe — Volume 1 — Reading Companion, almost by accident. Poe’s bells and heartbeats turned that same deafness inward — not comic, but terrible. Same silence, different shade.
A brief reflection can help important ideas stay with you longer.