Boys like to be considered to be brave, but what kind of things can be considered to be brave? It is not a question that can be answered by words, but by the actual deed. A boy with the name Henry gave us a good example. Ronny and Henry were two friends in the same class. They always played together and went home together. One day as Ronny and Henry were going home after school, they saw some people fighting in the street corner. Ronny said excitedly, “Some people are fighting! Let’s go and have a look!” But Henry refused, “It’s none of our business. We’d better go home and don’t get close to them. Also our parents are expecting to have dinner with us together at home and I don’t want them to worry about me.”

“You are a coward, and afraid to go,” said Ronny, and off he ran to the spot with some other boys. Henry had to go home alone and didn't think about it anymore.

But Ronny thought Henry was a coward and told all the boys that. They laughed at him a great deal. From then on, they looked down upon Henry and didn’t want to play with him.

Henry was sad but he wasn’t angry with Ronny for his rude behavior, because he had learned that true courage was shown most in bearing misunderstanding when it was not deserved, and that he ought to be afraid of nothing but doing wrong. Thus, he just ignored the other boys’ laughter and continued to stick to his thought and go to school and study as well. However, Ronny didn’t invite Henry to go home with him anymore. Instead, he had his new friends who also thought Henry was a coward. Every day after school, they didn't go home directly but went to the river or somewhere to play games and had lots of fun.

When I was ten, I was suddenly faced with the suffering of moving from the only home I had ever known. My whole life, brief as it was, had been spent in that big old house, gracefully touched with the laughter and tears of four generations.

When the final day came, I ran to the small backyard and sat alone, with tears welling up from my heart.Suddenly I felt a hand rest on my shoulder.I looked up to see my grandfather. “It isn't easy, is it, Billy？” he said softly, sitting down on the steps beside me.

“Grandpa，” I replied through my tears, “how can I ever say goodbye to you and all my friends？”

For a moment he just stared off into the apple trees.   “Goodbye is such a sad word，” he said.“It seems too final, too cold, for friends to use.We seem to have so many ways of saying goodbye and they all have one thing in common: sadness.When you and your friends must part, I want you to reach deep within you and bring back that first hello.Come with me, my friend，” he whispered.

We walked, hand in hand, to his favorite place in the front yard, where a huge red rosebush sat noticeably alone.Kneeling, he pulled me close.“It isn't just the roses that are beautiful, Billy. It's that special place in your heart that makes them so.”

His eyes met mine again.“Billy, I planted these roses a long time ago—before your mother came to the world. I put them into the soil the day my first son was born. It was my way of saying ‘thank you’   to God. That boy's name was Billy, just like yours.I used to watch him pick roses for his mother.” I saw my grandfather's tears.I had never seen him cry before.His voice became hoarse.

One day a terrible war came, and my son, like so many sons, said goodbye to fight a great evil.

A year and a half later, my grandfather became seriously ill. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was one of the hottest days of the dry season. We had not seen rain in almost a month. The crops were dying. Cows had stopped giving milk. The streams were long gone back into the earth.

I was in the kitchen making lunch for the family when I saw my six-year-old son, Billy, walking toward the woods. I could only see his back. He wasn't walking in his usual way. He was obviously walking with a great effort, trying to be as still as possible. Minutes after he disappeared into the woods, he came running out again, toward the house.

Moments later, however, he was once again walking in that slow and long step toward the woods. This activity went on for over an hour—walking cautiously to the woods, then running back to the house. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me. I crept out of the house and followed him on his journey.

He was cupping both hands in front of him as he walked, being very careful not to spill the water he carried. Branches and thorns slapped (拍打) his little face but he did not try to avoid them. He had a much greater purpose. As I came closer, I saw the most amazing sight. Several large deer stood in front of him. Billy walked right up to them, at the sight of which I almost screamed for him to get away. A hug buck (雄鹿) was dangerously close, but it neither threatened Billy nor even moved as Billy knelt down. And I saw a baby deer lying on the ground, obviously suffering from heavy loss of water and heat exhaustion, lifting its head with great effort to lap (舔) up the water in my boy's hands.

When the water was gone, Billy jumped up to run back to the house.

This time I joined him, with a small pot of water from the kitchen.

A young and successful manager was traveling down a neighborhood street, going a bit too fast in his new Jaguar. He was watching for kids darting out (窜出) from between parked cars and slowed down when he thought he saw something. As his car passed, no children appeared. Instead, a brick hit violently into the Jags side door! He stepped on the brakes and backed his Jag back to the spot where the brick had been thrown.

The angry driver then jumped out of the car, grabbed the nearest kid and pushed him up against a parked car shouting, “What was that all about and who are you? Just what the heck are you doing? That’s a new car and that brick you threw is going to cost a lot of money. Why did you do it?”

The young boy was apologetic. “Please, mister... please, I’m sorry but I didn’t know what else to do,” he explained. “I threw the brick because no one else would stop…” With tears rolling down his face and off his chin, the youth pointed to a spot just around a parked car. “It’s my brother,” he said. “He rolled off the sidewalk and fell out of his wheelchair and I can’t lift him up.” Now sobbing, the boy asked the astonished manager, “Would you please help me get him back into his wheelchair? He’s hurt and he’s too heavy for me.”

Moved beyond words, the driver cooled his anger.

The driver watched the boy push his wheelchair-bound brother down the sidewalk toward their home.

There was a rich couple who was throwing a big New Year party at their house. So they went shopping at the market where everything was of high cost and fixed price. They wanted to maintain their level of standard so they didn’t mind paying for it. After purchasing all they needed, they called a porter to carry everything and drop it at their home. The porter who came was of an old age, and looked very unhealthy, and his clothes were torn, and he looked as if he wasn’t even able to meet his daily needs.

They asked the porter about the charges for delivering their goods to their home. The old porter quoted just $20, well below the market price. Yet, the couple argued and bargained with the porter and finally settled for $15. The porter was struggling to make even one time’s meal so he needed anything he could earn.

The couple was very happy thinking how well they bargained with the poor porter and paid him $15 in advance and left after giving the porter their address for delivery. They reached their home and one hour passed, and two hours passed, but the porter still didn’t deliver their stuff.

The wife started to get angry at her husband, “I always tell you not to trust such person, but you never listen to me. I am sure instead of delivering the goods to our home, he must have disappeared with everything. We must immediately go back to the market to inquire and then to the police station to file the complaint against him.”

They both left towards the market. On their way near the market, they saw another porter. They stopped him to inquire about the old porter and noticed that he was carrying their goods in his cart! The angry wife asked him, “Where is that old thief? This is our goods and he was supposed to deliver them. It seems you poor thieves are stealing our goods and going to sell them.”

When the porter heard the angry wife asking.

Upon hearing this, the husband had tears in his eyes,