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Category： Author：Thornton W. Burgess
"Listen," whispered Jimmy Skunk to Peter Rabbit as the strange howling sound echoed through the Green Forest. But Peter was listening. He had never heard anything like it. The sound made cold chills run up and down his backbone.
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Category： Author：novel
This is the story of a little girl whose home was among the Green Mountains of Vermont, then known as “The Wilderness,” at the beginning of the American Revolution; and at the time when Ethan Allen and his brave soldiers were on guard to defend their rights.
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Category： Author：Charles G. D. Roberts
That one stark naked side of the mountain which gave it its name of Old Bald Face fronted full south. Scorched by sun and scourged by storm throughout the centuries, it was bleached to an ashen pallor that gleamed startlingly across the leagues of sombre, green-purple wilderness outspread below.
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Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
Nobody ever spoke of old Spot's master as "old Johnnie Green." Yet the two—boy and dog—were almost exactly the same age. Somehow Spot grew up faster than Johnnie.
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Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
When Johnnie Green was younger, it always scared him to hear Solomon Owl's deep-toned voice calling in the woods after dark.
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Category： Author：John Buchan
During the past year, in the intervals of an active life, I have amused myself with constructing this tale. It has been scribbled in every kind of odd place and moment—in England and abroad, during long journeys, in half-hours between graver tasks; and it bears, I fear, the mark of its gipsy begetting.
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Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
If you had been in Farmer Green's door-yard on a certain day in May you would have heard an unusual twittering and chirping and squawking.
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Category： Author：Arthur Scott Bailey
Of course, there was a time, once, when Jolly Robin was just a nestling himself. With two brothers and one sister—all of them, like him, much spotted with black—he lived in a house in one of Farmer Green’s apple trees.
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Category： Author：Johanna Spyri
From the old and pleasantly situated village of Mayenfeld, a footpath winds through green and shady meadows to the foot of the mountains, which on this side look down from their stern and lofty heights upon the valley below.
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