【推荐1】Dave Wardell’s breath came thick and fast as he struggled to keep up. In the dark alley ahead, he could make out the shape of the fleeing suspect(嫌疑人),with his police dog, Finn. The 16-year-old boy they were chasing was suspected of armed robbery, but Dave wasn’t too worried. He and Finn had been in similar situations dozens of times, and they knew exactly what to do. They were a brilliant team. Police dogs like Finn follow a lengthy training program, learning skills such as how to trace a suspect’s scent(气味)for up to four miles and how to chase and catch a suspect. In seven years, Finn had helped bring more than 200 criminals. He was brave, bold and curious, and would do anything to protect his master.

Dave thought that night would be no different. Up ahead, he saw the suspect throw himself over a fence. Finn was on him in a second, pulling him back down. In a moment of absolute horror, Dave saw him pull a long piece of bloody metal from Finn’s chest, Dave realized it was a 10-inch hunting knife. Finn was in pain, but didn’t let go of the boy’s leg.

Dave just had time to hit an emergency button on his radio. The suspect, on the fence, pulled the knife up high and aimed at Dave’s neck. In an instant, Finn jumped between them, and the knife came crashing down on Finn’s head and Dave’s hand. Straight away, Finn got hold of the boy again. Dave caught the attacker and threw him on the ground so he let go of the knife.

In time, officers surrounded the attacker, pinning him to the floor. Dave gave Finn the signal to let go, and only then did Finn drop his head to the ground.

【推荐2】Jerome David Salinger was an American author,best known for his 1951 novel The Catcher in the Rye,as well as his reclusive(隐居的) nature.His last original published work was in 1956 ;he gave his last interview in 1980,Raised in Manhattan,Salinger began writing short stories while in secondary school,and published the critically praised story A perfect Day for Bananafish in The New Yorker magazine,which became home to much of his following work. . In 1951 Salinger released his novel The Catcher in the Rye,an immediate popular success.His description of adolescent alienation(疏远) and loss of innocence in the leading role Holden Caulfield was influential ,especially among adolescent readers.The novel remains widely read,selling around 250,000 copies a year.

The success of The Catcher in the Rye led to public attention and monitor:Salinger became reclusive,publishing new work less frequently .He followed Catcher with a short story collection,Nine Stories(1953,) a collection of a short novel and a short story, Franny and Zooey(1961), and a collection of two short novels,Raise High the Roof Beam,Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction (1963). His last published work,a short novel entitled Hepworth 16,1924, appeared in The New Yorker on June 19,1965.

Afterwards Salinger struggled with unwanted attention, including a legal battle in the 1980s with biographer Ian Hamilton and the release in the late 1990s of memoirs (回忆录) written by two people close to him: Joyce Maynard, an ex-lover,and Margaret Salinger, his daughter .In 1996 ,a small publisher announced a deal with Salinger to publish Hapworth16,1924, in book form, but amid the ensuing publicity, the release was indefinitely delayed.He made headlines around the globe in June 2009, after filing a lawsuit against another writer for copyright infringement (侵犯) resulting from that writer’s use of one of Salinger’s characters from The Catcher in the Rye. Salinger died of natual causes on January 27,2010, at his home in Cornish, New Hampshire.

【推荐3】I will always remember my mother's last few days in this world.

On February 14th, 2000 my class went on a field trip to the beach. I had so much fun. When we returned to school, my teacher told me to go to the headmaster's office. When I got into the office, I saw a police office. Suddenly I realized something was wrong. The police office told me what had happened and we went to pick my sister up. After that, we went to the hospital and waited. Time went slowly. Finally, we got to see our mother. It was terrible.

On the next day, the headmaster came and told my two teachers what had happened. I was taking a rest that day. I knew it had something to do with my mother. I kept thinking that she either died or had gotten better. How I wished that she had gotten better. When my teacher took me outside, my sister ran up to me. She started crying, “She's gone. Teresa, mommy's gone. She's dead.” I couldn't believe it. We jumped into the car and drove straight to the hospital. Most of my family were there. The silence was terrible. I knew I had to say goodbye.

Today when I look back, I still miss my mother very much, but I know that I will live. My mother was a strong mother, who had the biggest heart. My mother was an angel walking on the earth. I will always remember her as living. When someone is asked who their hero (英雄) is, they usually say someone famous, like Michael Jordan or Britney Spears, When someone asks me who my hero is,   I tell them, my mother. My mother lives every day. That is what makes her a true hero.

I felt very scared. I ran to my bed and pulled my blanket over my head. I started to shout for my parents but there was no reply. Then I remembered that they were at a fancy dress party.

I looked out of my blanket but it was too dark to see anything. Then I heard footsteps. They were getting louder and louder. I ran to my drawer to take out my camera and started to take pictures in the direction of the window. Soon the footsteps died off.

The grandfather clock struck. It was 12 midnight. I went back to my bed and tried to sleep. But I could not sleep. I felt too frightened. I sat up, and my mind was full of thoughts. Time passed --- finally, I fell asleep.

I woke up only after eight and decided to find out what it had been. I found some footprints outside my bedroom window. I measured them with a ruler and found them to be exactly the same size as my father's shoes. I then went to town to get the film developed. I didn't realize that I did not use the flash until I saw the black photos.

When I reached home, I told my father the whole incident and he started to laugh. I started laughing too when he told me that he had dressed up as an alien for the party. Today, I am still amused to think I was so afraid of my own father.

【推荐2】On the Father's Day before my father entered a nursing home, I gave him an Elmo doll. Like the colored pencils and sketchbook I bought him a year earlier, this was a desperate attempt to bring some joy to my increasingly bedridden father. Years ago, my father suffered a stroke which left him in bed for the rest of his life.

At the sight of Elmo, my three elder sisters shook their heads, certain that our father who was anything but childish would not like it. Sure enough, my father, 76, broke into that unpleasant smile that barely concealed his dislike.

“What on earth is this?” shouted my sisters, bursting into laughter.

“Daddy knows why I give him this,” I said, thinking that they had no idea what Elmo meant to my father. To my disappointment, my father shrugged. How could he not remember? Years earlier, I had been in the kitchen and heard something rare from the living room: laughter. I ran downstairs and saw that Elmo was on the PBS cooking show “The Frugal Gourmet”. “I don’t know what it is about him that gets to me,” my father choked out between laughter and tears. “He's just so funny!”

As my father lay in the nursing home, I would visit him in the evenings. We watched old movies with the lights off. Even though he never asked for it, I brought Elmo from home and put him where my father could see him. Before leaving, I would take Elmo from the dresser and place him in my father’s immobile arm. A slight smile would appear on his face. It never looked softer.

【推荐3】I was about 30 years old and was working as a firefighter in the South Bronx’s Engine Co. 82. It was a restful Sunday and between alarms I rushed to the office to read a copy of the New York Times. I read an article on the Book Review section which openly stated what I thought to be a calumny — that William Butler Yeats had gone beyond his Irishness and was forever to be known as a universal poet. As I read it, my blood began to boil.

There were few things I was more proud of than my Irish root, and ever since I first picked up a book of his poems from a shelf when I was in the military, Yeats had been my favorite Irish writer, followed by Sean O’Casey and James Joyce.

I grabbed a piece of paper and wrote out a letter of anger to the editor. Throughout Yeats’ poetry, his view of the world and the people in it was basically Irish. He had lived his life and written his poetry in a truly Irish way. It was annoying to think Irishness was something to be transcended (超越).

I don’t know why I felt it my duty to safeguard the reputation of the world’s greatest poet. I just knew that I had to write that letter.

After my letter got published, I received a letter from The New Yorker, asking for an interview. When my article Fireman Smith appeared in that magazine, the editor of a large publishing firm called me, asking if I was interested in writing a book about my life. I had little confidence to write a whole book, though the subject was worthy. I wrote Report From Engine Co. 82 in six months, and it sold really well. In the years that followed, I wrote three more best-sellers.

Being a writer had been far from my expectations. How had it happened? I often found myself thinking about it, and my thoughts always came back to that letter to the New York Times. For me, the writing was a natural consequence of the passion (热情) I felt and the subjects represented the great values burning within me as I wrote.

Over the years, my five children have come to me with one dilemma or another. My answer is always the same. Think about what you’re feeling and measure the heat of the fire in your heart, for that is your passion. Your education and your experience will guide you toward making a right decision, but your passion will enable you to make a difference in whatever you do. That’s what I learned the day I stood up for Ireland’s greatest poet.