Steve was the most amazing person in all of Minneapolis, and he was my cousin. By the age of 19, Steve was a star baseball player at the University of Minnesota. I wanted to be exactly like him. So when Steve asked me to go with him on a spring fishing trip in northern Minnesota, I was excited!

After planning the trip, we gathered clothes and supplies, and began our great adventure. We reached the Superior National Forest in northern Minnesota by early evening. On our way to the campsite, Steve pointed to a small house faraway in one of the mountains, saying that it was the ranger station (护林站) where the forester worked.

Finally, after a long walk, we reached the campsite and set up the camp as the sun was setting. Steve knew all the tricks of an experienced wilderness camper. After we gathered enough wood from the forest, he started the campfire using only stone and steel — no matches. For supper we feasted on freeze­dried beef, wild rice and pea soup. I ate greedily after all that work.

Tired enough, we climbed into our sleeping bags early and talked about our plans for fishing the next day. We were still talking quietly when a sudden north wind picked up; the temperature dropped and it began to snow. Steve found a way to increase the temperature inside the tent. He dragged a log (原木) from the forest to the opposite side of the campfire. Then he wrapped (包裹) aluminum foil (铝箔) around the log. The heat from the fire reflected off the foil and into the tent. Soon images of lake fish were filling my dreams.

The snow had stopped, but sometime later a powerful wind must have kicked up the flames of our dying fire. I was abruptly awakened by Steve. Our tent was on fire. Frightened, I ran out of the tent immediately. The tent collapsed with Steve inside. Without any thought of endangering myself, I reached into the burning tent and pulled him to the icy lake. Fortunately, we were not seriously hurt.

Later, as we stood by the burning tent to keep warm, we considered our difficult situation.

Suddenly, we heard a noise in the forest.

Jenny was a bright­eyed, pretty five­year­old girl.One day when she and her mother were checking out at the grocery store, Jenny saw a plastic pearl necklace priced at 2.50.How she wanted that necklace, and when she asked her mother if she would buy it for her, her mother said, “Well, it is a pretty necklace, but it costs an awful lot of money.After all, I’ll buy you the necklace, and when we get home we can make up a list of chores that you can do to pay for the necklace.And don’t forget that for your birthday, Grandma just might give you a whole dollar bill, too.Okay？” Jenny agreed, and her mother bought the pearl necklace for her.

Jenny worked on her chores very hard every day, and sure enough, her grandma gave her a brand­new dollar bill for her birthday.Soon Jenny had paid off the pearls.How Jenny loved those pearls！She wore them everywhere to kindergarten, bed and when she went out with her mother to run errands(差事)．The only time she didn’t wear them was in the shower.Her mother had told her that they would turn her neck green!

Jenny had a very loving Daddy.When Jenny went to bed, he would get up from his favorite chair every night and read Jenny her favorite story.

One night when he finished the story, he said, “Jenny, do you love me？”

“Oh yes, Daddy, you know I love you, ” the little girl said.

“Well, then, give me your pearls.”

“Oh！Daddy, not my pearls！” Jenny refused.“But you can have Rosy, my favorite doll.Remember her? You gave her to me last year for my birthday.And you can have her tea party outfit, too.Okay？”

“Oh no, darling, that’s okay.” Her father brushed her cheek with a kiss.“Good night, little one.”

A week later, her father once again asked Jenny after her story.

Several days later, when Jenny’s father came in to read her a story as usual, he was surprised to find

A Helping Hand

I spent most of my teenage years in an old farmhouse in the Durham County countryside. That was more than 30 years ago, but life there dated back to an even earlier era. I spent my summer days doing manual labor in the tobacco fields, while my summer evenings were spent preparing vegetables in the backyard. My fall weekends were often spent cutting wood and storing logs for the fire. Living where we did, we could see three or four other houses from our own, none of them within shouting distance. We knew our neighbors, most of whom were elderly. We usually offered our kindness when they needed help.

Jimmy lived across the street, on the far side of a tobacco field. He was seventy years old and lived alone. He lost his wife two years ago. He had barely supported himself these last couple of years since his health had gotten worse. One day, we went to visit him at his home. It was a small wooden house with dirty windows and a curtain that had been mended several times. The poor old man would sit in an armchair by the window, holding a faded photo, and with tears in his eyes, recall happy memories of his wife.

One weekend, my father went to check on Jimmy, but a rare heavy snow happened to fall. It was so heavy that he couldn’t get his old truck up Jimmy’s uneven (不平坦的), snow-covered road. Nobody could understand what made Dad climb the 400 yards or so to Jimmy's house. My brother and I were waiting anxiously at home. After a long time, he rushed home and told us that Jimmy was sick and had no firewood left.

My father asked us if we would like to help. We all nodded our heads willingly, but my brother was secretly worried. He asked my father how we could help. Although we could meet Jimmy's needs for things like food and firewood, my father held the belief that the loss of his wife made Jimmy unhappy, and wanted to offer Jimmy a moment of joy. We left the house and walked across the snow-covered fields. Our footprints went deep into the snow, only to disappear as the snow continued to fall. We headed across the field, aiming for Jimmy's house.

We knocked on Jimmy’s door, and he greeted us.