OR
Your Memberships & Subscriptions

Download the free Kindle app and start reading Kindle books instantly on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required. Learn more
Read instantly on your browser with Kindle for Web.
Using your mobile phone camera - scan the code below and download the Kindle app.
![The Secret Garden (AmazonClassics Edition) by [Frances Hodgson Burnett]](https://m.media-amazon.com/images/I/419TbM0uODL._SY346_.jpg)
Follow the Authors
OK
The Secret Garden (AmazonClassics Edition) Kindle Edition
Price | New from | Used from |
Kindle
"Please retry" |
—
| — | — |
Kindle, August 8, 2017 | $2.99 | $2.99 to buy |
Audible Audiobook, Unabridged
"Please retry" |
$0.00
| Free with your Audible trial |
Mass Market Paperback
"Please retry" | $1.96 | $1.15 |
MP3 CD, Audiobook, MP3 Audio, Unabridged
"Please retry" | $7.24 | — |
- Kindle
$0.00 Read with Kindle Unlimited to also enjoy access to over 4 million more titles $2.99 to buy -
Audiobook
$0.00 Free with your Audible trial - Hardcover
$11.90 - Paperback
$3.99 - Mass Market Paperback
$5.95 - MP3 CD
$7.99 - Diary
from $1.50
The orphaned Mary Lennox is sullen, ill tempered, and unloved when she’s sent to live with her uncle, Archibald Craven. A man consumed by grief over the death of his wife, Archibald has allowed his sprawling estate on the moors to fall into grim disrepair. It’s when Mary begins tending to her late aunt’s mysterious garden—locked up and neglected for years—that she discovers its life-changing secrets and a flowering rejuvenation of the human spirit.
Out of this dark, closed-off world and a child’s innate curiosity about life and death comes one of the most transformative coming-of-age novels ever written.
Revised edition: Previously published as The Secret Garden, this edition of The Secret Garden (AmazonClassics Edition) includes editorial revisions.
- LanguageEnglish
- Grade level3 - 7
- PublisherAmazonClassics
- Publication dateAugust 8, 2017
- ISBN-109781542098649
Customers who viewed this item also viewed
Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Frances Hodgson Burnett (1849–1924) was a popular British American novelist and playwright born to relative affluence in Manchester, England. After the death of her father and a reversal of fortune, Frances’s mother immigrated to the United States with her family and settled near Knoxville, Tennessee.
It was here, at the age of nineteen, where Frances began a modest career in writing to help support her family. Five years later, she married Dr. Swan Burnett, and she soon established herself as one of the most popular novelists of her era.
Review
From the Inside Flap
But Missalthwaite hides another secret, as Mary discovers one night. High in a dark room, away from the rest of the house, lies her young cousin Colin, who believes he is an incurable invalid, destined to die young. His tantrums are so frightful, no one can reason with him. If only, Mary hopes, she can get Colin to love the secret garden as much as she does, its magic wil work wonders on him.
From School Library Journal
Leigh Ann Rumsey, Penn Yan Academy, NY
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From Publishers Weekly
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
Amazon.com Review
From AudioFile
Review
''It will rapt most children away, for after fifty years its spell is still as strong; a blend of power, beauty, vivid interest and honest goodness. Yes, if this is magic, it is good magic.'' --New York Times Book Review --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Back Cover
"One of th' gardens is locked up. No one has been in it for ten years."
When orphaned Mary Lennox comes to live at her uncle's great house on the Yorkshire Moors, she finds it full of mysterious secrets. There are nearly one hundred rooms, most of which are locked, and the house is filled with creepy old portraits and suits of armor. Mary rarely sees her uncle, and perhaps most unsettling of all is that at night she hears the sound of someone crying down one of the long corridors.
The gardens surrounding the odd property are Mary's escape and she explores every inch of them—all except for the mysterious walled-in, locked garden. Then one day, Mary discovers a key. Could it open the door to the garden?
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.From Kirkus Reviews
Book Description
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
There Is No One Left
When Mary Lennox was sent 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. Her father had held a position under the English Government and had always been busy and ill himself, and her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible. So when she was a sickly, fretful, ugly little baby she was kept out of the way, and when she became a sickly, fretful, toddling thing she was kept out of the way also. She never remembered seeing familiarly anything but the dark faces of her Ayah and the other native servants, and as they always obeyed her and gave her her own way in everything, because the Mem Sahib would be angry if she was disturbed by her crying, by the time she was six years old she was as tyrannical and selfish a little pig as ever lived. The young English governess who came to teach her to read and write disliked her so much that she gave up her place in three months, and when other governesses came to try to fill it they always went away in a shorter time than the first one. So if Mary had not chosen to really want to know how to read books she would never have learned her letters at all.
One frightfully hot morning, when she was about nine years old, she awakened feeling very cross, and she became crosser still when she saw that the servant who stood by her bedside was not her Ayah.
“Why did you come?” she said to the strange woman. “I will not let you stay. Send my Ayah to me.”
The woman looked frightened, but she only stammered that the Ayah could not come and when Mary threw herself into a passion and beat and kicked her, she looked only more frightened and repeated that it was not possible for the Ayah to come to Missie Sahib.
There was something mysterious in the air that morning. Nothing was done in its regular order and several of the native servants seemed missing, while those whom Mary saw slunk or hurried about with ashy and scared faces. But no one would tell her anything and her Ayah did not come. She was actually left alone as the morning went on, and at last she wandered out into the garden and began to play by herself under a tree near the veranda. She pretended that she was making a flower-bed, and she stuck big scarlet hibiscus blossoms into little heaps of earth, all the time growing more and more angry and muttering to herself the things she would say and the names she would call Saidie when she returned.
“Pig! Pig! Daughter of Pigs!” she said, because to call a native a pig is the worst insult of all.
She was grinding her teeth and saying this over and over again when she heard her mother come out on the veranda with some one. She was with a fair young man and they stood talking together in low strange voices. Mary knew the fair young man who looked like a boy. She had heard that he was a very young officer who had just come from England. The child stared at him, but she stared most at her mother. She always did this when she had a chance to see her, because the Mem Sahib—Mary used to call her that oftener than anything else—was such a tall, slim, pretty person and wore such lovely clothes. Her hair was like curly silk and she had a delicate little nose which seemed to be disdaining things, and she had large laughing eyes. All her clothes were thin and floating, and Mary said they were “full of lace.” They looked fuller of lace than ever this morning, but her eyes were not laughing at all. They were large and scared and lifted imploringly to the fair boy officer’s face.
“Is it so very bad? Oh, is it?” Mary heard her say.
“Awfully,” the young man answered in a trembling voice. “Awfully, Mrs. Lennox. You ought to have gone to the hills two weeks ago.”
The Mem Sahib wrung her hands.
“Oh, I know I ought!” she cried. “I only stayed to go to that silly dinner party. What a fool I was!”
At that very moment such a loud sound of wailing broke out from the servants’ quarters that she clutched the young man’s arm, and Mary stood shivering from head to foot. The wailing grew wilder and wilder.
“What is it? What is it?” Mrs. Lennox gasped.
“Some one has died,” answered the boy officer. “You did not say it had broken out among your servants.”
“I did not know!” the Mem Sahib cried. “Come with me! Come with me!” and she turned and ran into the house.
After that appalling things happened, and the mysteriousness of the morning was explained to Mary. The cholera had broken out in its most fatal form and people were dying like flies. The Ayah had been taken ill in the night, and it was because she had just died that the servants had wailed in the huts. Before the next day three other servants were dead and others had run away in terror. There was panic on every side, and dying people in all the bungalows.
During the confusion and bewilderment of the second day Mary hid herself in the nursery and was forgotten by every one. Nobody thought of her, nobody wanted her, and strange things happened of which she knew nothing. Mary alternately cried and slept through the hours. She only knew that people were ill and that she heard mysterious and frightening sounds. Once she crept into the dining-room and found it empty, though a partly finished meal was on the table and chairs and plates looked as if they had been hastily pushed back when the diners rose suddenly for some reason. The child ate some fruit and biscuits, and being thirsty she drank a glass of wine which stood nearly filled. It was sweet, and she did not know how strong it was. Very soon it made her intensely drowsy, and she went back to her nursery and shut herself in again, frightened by cries she heard in the huts and by the hurrying sound of feet. The wine made her so sleepy that she could scarcely keep her eyes open and she lay down on her bed and knew nothing more for a long time.
Many things happened during the hours in which she slept so heavily, but she was not disturbed by the wails and the sound of things being carried in and out of the bungalow.
When she awakened she lay and stared at the wall. The house was perfectly still. She had never known it to be so silent before. She heard neither voices nor footsteps, and wondered if everybody had got well of the cholera and all the trouble was over. She wondered also who would take care of her now her Ayah was dead. There would be a new Ayah, and perhaps she would know some new stories. Mary had been rather tired of the old ones. She did not cry because her nurse had died. She was not an affectionate child and had never cared much for any one. The noise and hurrying about and wailing over the cholera had frightened her, and she had been angry because no one seemed to remember that she was alive. Every one was too panic-stricken to think of a little girl no one was fond of. When people had the cholera it seemed that they remembered nothing but themselves. But if every one had got well again, surely some one would remember and come to look for her.
But no one came, and as she lay waiting the house seemed to grow more and more silent. She heard something rustling on the matting and when she looked down she saw a little snake gliding along and watching her with eyes like jewels. She was not frightened, because he was a harmless little thing who would not hurt her and he seemed in a hurry to get out of the room. He slipped under the door as she watched him.
“How queer and quiet it is,” she said. “It sounds as if there was no one in the bungalow but me and the snake.”
Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on the veranda. They were men’s footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices. No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms.
“What desolation!” she heard one voice say. “That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too. I heard there was a child, though no one ever saw her.”
Mary was standing in the middle of the nursery when they opened the door a few minutes later. She looked an ugly, cross little thing and was frowning because she was beginning to be hungry and feel disgracefully neglected. The first man who came in was a large officer she had once seen talking to her father. He looked tired and troubled, but when he saw her he was so startled that he almost jumped back.
“Barney!” he cried out. “There is a child here! A child alone! In a place like this! Mercy on us, who is she!”
“I am Mary Lennox,” the little girl said, drawing herself up stiffly. She thought the man was very rude to call her father’s bungalow “A place like this!” “I fell asleep when every one had the cholera and I have only just wakened up. Why does nobody come?”
“It is the child no one ever saw!” exclaimed the man, turning to his companions. “She has actually been forgotten!”
“Why was I forgotten?” Mary said, stamping her foot. “Why does nobody come?”
The young man whose name was Barney looked at her very sadly. Mary even thought she saw him wink his eyes as if to wink tears away.
“Poor little kid!” he said. “There is nobody left to come.”
It was in that strange and sudden way that Mary found out that she had neither father nor mother left; that they had died and been carried away in the night, and that the few native servants who had not died also had left the house as quickly as they could get out of it, none of them even remembering that there was a Missie Sahib. That was why the place was so quiet. It was true that there was no one in the bungalow but herself and the little rustling snake. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
From the Publisher
But Missalthwaite hides another secret, as Mary discovers one night. High in a dark room, away from the rest of the house, lies her young cousin Colin, who believes he is an incurable invalid, destined to die young. His tantrums are so frightful, no one can reason with him. If only, Mary hopes, she can get Colin to love the secret garden as much as she does, its magic wil work wonders on him.
--This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.Product details
- ASIN : B071KFMPJN
- Publisher : AmazonClassics (August 8, 2017)
- Publication date : August 8, 2017
- Language : English
- File size : 889 KB
- Text-to-Speech : Enabled
- Screen Reader : Supported
- Enhanced typesetting : Enabled
- X-Ray : Enabled
- Word Wise : Enabled
- Sticky notes : On Kindle Scribe
- Print length : 237 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #17,570 in Kindle Store (See Top 100 in Kindle Store)
- #1 in Children's Europe & Russia Fiction
- #17 in Children's Classic Literature
- #83 in Children’s Books
- Customer Reviews:
About the authors
Paper Mill Press is proud to present a timeless collection of unabridged literary classics to a twenty-first century audience. Each original master work is reimagined into a sophisticated yet modern format with custom suede-like metallic foiled covers.
Frances Eliza Hodgson Burnett (24 November 1849 – 29 October 1924) was an American-English 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).
Frances Eliza Hodgson was born in Cheetham, England. After her father died in 1852, the family fell on straitened circumstances and in 1865 immigrated to the United States, settling near Knoxville, Tennessee. There Frances began writing to help earn money for the family, publishing stories in magazines from the age of 19. In 1870 her mother died, and in 1872 Frances married Swan Burnett, who became a medical doctor. The Burnetts lived for two years in Paris, where their two sons were born, before returning to the United States to live in Washington, D.C., Burnett then began to write novels, the first of which (That Lass o' Lowrie's), was published to good reviews. Little Lord Fauntleroy was published in 1886 and made her a popular writer of children's fiction, although her romantic adult novels written in the 1890s were also popular. She wrote and helped to produce stage versions of Little Lord Fauntleroy and A Little Princess.
Burnett enjoyed socializing and lived a lavish lifestyle. Beginning in the 1880s, she began to travel to England frequently and in the 1890s bought a home there where she wrote The Secret Garden. Her oldest son, Lionel, died of tuberculosis in 1890, which caused a relapse of the depression she had struggled with for much of her life. She divorced Swan Burnett in 1898, married Stephen Townsend in 1900, and divorced Townsend in 1902. A few years later she settled in Nassau County, Long Island, where she died in 1924 and is buried in Roslyn Cemetery.
In 1936 a memorial sculpture by Bessie Potter Vonnoh was erected in her honour in Central Park's Conservatory Garden. The statue depicts her two famous Secret Garden characters, Mary and Dickon.
Bio from Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Photo by Herbert Rose Barraud (1845-1896) (scan by Phrood) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
Customer reviews
Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.
To calculate the overall star rating and percentage breakdown by star, we don’t use a simple average. Instead, our system considers things like how recent a review is and if the reviewer bought the item on Amazon. It also analyzed reviews to verify trustworthiness.
Learn more how customers reviews work on Amazon
Reviewed in the United States on July 27, 2021
-
Top reviews
Top reviews from the United States
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
"The Secret Garden" follows Mary, a spoiled and unlikable young girl and the daughter of a British officer living in India. When her parents die of a terrible sickness, she's shuttled off to England to live with a reclusive uncle, and finds herself lost and alone in the gloomy manor. But as she sets out to explore her new home and make sense of this strange new land, she discovers the titular secret garden -- a garden that has been locked up since her aunt died in a tragic accident ten years ago. Enchanted by the garden, Mary sets out to tend it and bring it back to life, aided by a grouchy gardener, a soft-hearted animal-loving boy named Dickon... and Colin, a cousin who has been locked inside all his life and treated like an invalid. The garden turns out to be just the thing both Mary and Colin need to revitalize themselves... and it just may finally bring healing to a family long broken by tragedy...
"The Secret Garden" is an enchanting novel, told with an almost fairy-tale-like language that evokes the sights, sounds, and smells of the English moors and gardens and their inhabitants. The writing style is lovely, and paints clear pictures in the mind. The heavy Yorkshire accents of certain characters can be tricky at times, but I managed anyhow. And while Dickon as a character feels a little too good to be true, almost straying into Mary-Sue territory, it's nice to see Mary and Colin develop as the book goes in, gaining confidence in themselves and shedding some of the selfishness and bad temper their sheltered lives have given them.
The biggest flaw, in my opinion, is that the book strays into a weird fantasy/magical-realism realm toward the end, which I feel wasn't foreshadowed very well. I love fantasy and don't mind magical realism, but it felt out of place here, especially with Colin going on about studying "magic" while at the same time declaring he wants to be a scientist. It just felt odd to me, and while it might be a product of its time (this book IS over a century old), it did taint my enjoyment somewhat.
Still, complaints aside, I can easily see why "The Secret Garden" enjoys a reputation as a children's classic. It's not the best children's novel I've ever read, but I enjoyed it, and am glad I gave it a chance. Perhaps I'll pick up the author's other classic, "A Little Princess," sometime in the near future...
Top reviews from other countries


But on a second note I think maybe there really are a thousand Secret Gardens already and only because it must be a secret, no one can tell. All we need is to believe in 'magic' to uncover them and make them burst forth with energy and spirit that it will become so hard not to live.
This book makes me believe there is magic, even as an adult - not of fairylands or elves but of a kind which can be made quite possible in today's world. There's no better way to end this decade. Cheers Frances H. Brunett!


Reviewed in India 🇮🇳 on December 29, 2019
But on a second note I think maybe there really are a thousand Secret Gardens already and only because it must be a secret, no one can tell. All we need is to believe in 'magic' to uncover them and make them burst forth with energy and spirit that it will become so hard not to live.
This book makes me believe there is magic, even as an adult - not of fairylands or elves but of a kind which can be made quite possible in today's world. There's no better way to end this decade. Cheers Frances H. Brunett!


I would like to have my money back.

However despite my original disappointment I would urge you to obtain a copy that appeals to you for there are some editions with very nice illustrations too for this classic story is a wonderful read of a nostalgic world that has long disappeared. With the strong elements of children bonding with each other through animals & nature, the transformation of a hidden garden & the endearing company of the robin Frances Hodgson Burnett's story will appeal to any generation.

Marysaid, thegardener, whereis, Marthawent ect... the text is a little muddle also with sentences back to front.
If you are after the kindle edition, pay for it and swerve the amazon classic version at all costs.