Mr. Achilles37
Category： Author：Jennette Lee
Achilles Alexandrakis was arranging the fruit on his stall in front of his little shop on Clark Street.
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Category： Author：Jennette Lee
Achilles Alexandrakis was arranging the fruit on his stall in front of his little shop on Clark Street.
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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：Meigs, Cornelia
"The Windy Hill" is a novel about the complexities of how past and present interweave within families to create ongoing histories that repeat themselves.
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Category： Author：novel
The cold of foot-hill California in the month of January held the night. The occupants of the surrey were too cramped and stiffened by it, and too uncomfortably enwrapped against it, to speak. Silence as complete as that which lay like a spell on the landscape brooded over them.
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Category： Author：novel
Three young sisters, their doctor brother and physically frail mother have to vacate their house for the summer and rent a small farm called Rainbow Hill.
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Category： Author：novel
The Witching Hill Estate Office was as new as the Queen Anne houses it had to let, and about as worthy of its name. It was just a wooden box with a veneer of rough-cast and a corrugated iron lid.
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Category： Author：Jean Webster琴·韦伯斯特
If you leave the city by the Porta Maggiore and take the Via Prænestina, which leads east into the Sabine hills, at some thirty-six kilometers’ distance from Rome you will pass on your left a grey-walled village climbing up the hillside.
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Category： Author：Rudyard Kipling
If I were hanged on the highest hill, Mother o’ mine, O mother o’ mine!
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Category： Author：Lucy Maud Montgomery
Anne Shirley was curled up on the window-seat of Theodora Dix's sitting-room one Saturday evening looking dreamily afar at some fair starland beyond the hills of sunset. Anne was visiting for a fortnight of her vacation at Echo Lodge where Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Irving were spending the summer and she often ran over to the old Dix homes...
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Category： Author：VINGIE E. ROE
It was Springtime in the Deep Heart country. On the broad slopes, the towering slants of the hills themselves, the conifers sang their everlasting monotone, tuned by the little winds from the south.On the flaring fringes of their sweeping skirts where the streams ran, maples trembled in the airy sun and cottonwoods shook their thousan...
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