It was in the afternoon before the end of the Second World War that Antonio Black, who was twelve, caught sight of a beautiful brooch (胸针) in a shop window. The brooch is so beautiful that he was unwilling to leave the store until he had purchased it. But it was too expensive — $5. His family was very poor and his parents struggled to make ends meet. Five dollars would buy almost a week’s food for his family.

Antonio couldn’t ask his father for the money. Everything his father made through fishing went to his mother, Susan. Slim and beautiful, his mother was the center of the home and the glue that held it together. The housework was never-ending, and she struggled to feed and clothe their five children, but she was happy as her family and their well-being were all she cared about.

Nevertheless, he opened the shop’s door and went inside. Standing proudly and straight in his flour-sack (面粉袋改做的) shirt and washed-out trousers, he told the shopkeeper what he wanted, adding, “But I don’t have the money right now. Can you please hold it for me for some time?”

“I’ll try,” the shopkeeper smiled. “People around here don’t usually have that kind of money to spend on things. It should keep for a while.”

Antonio respectfully touched his worn cap and walked out. He would raise the money and not tell anybody, for he thought Mum would be surprised when she saw that brooch. On hearing the sound of hammering (锤打) from a side street, Antonio suddenly had an idea that he could raise money by selling the used nail bags. People built their own homes in Bay Roberts, using nails bought in bags from a local factory. Sometimes the used bags were thrown away at the construction site, and Antonio knew he could sell them back to the factory for five cents a piece. That day he sold two nail bags and hid the money in a rusty soda tin.

Every day after school, Antonio started his plan.

The day finally came!

How far would you go to help a friend? Jeremy Savage, aged 17, and Ian Marshall, aged16, both from Canada, had their friendship tested to the limit on a recent trip to the Rocky Mountains with their parents.

On Saturday morning, the two boys decided to climb Cathedral Mountain by themselves while their parents relaxed at the campsite. After three hours, they reached the top and enjoyed the beautiful view from the mountaintop.

However, trouble began when they started the climb down. On one very dangerous part of the mountain, Ian fell three metres off the side of the path. Jeremy climbed down to where Ian was and found him badly injured and not able to move. Jeremy had to decide what to do. He needed help but he did not want to leave his friend. He cleaned the dirt and blood from Ian’s face and hands, and then tried to help Ian stand up, but Ian’s right leg was hurting too much. They had to wait and hope that help would come.

Meanwhile, as darkness started to fall, their parents back at the campsite became very worried that the boys had not returned. They got in touch with park workers and began searching for the boys. Soon more than 20 people were looking for them on Cathedral Mountain.

While they waited for help, Jeremy gave Ian his food and water and let him lie on his jacket.

At sunrise, Jeremy decided that the only way to help his friend was to carry him down the mountain.

An 80-year-old man was sitting on the sofa in his house along with his 45-year -old highly educated son. Suddenly a crow (乌鸦) perched (栖息) on their window.

The father asked his son, “what is this?” The son replied, “It is a crow.”

After a few minutes, the father asked his son for the second time, “What is this?” The son said, “Father , I have just now told you, it is a crow!”

After a little while, the old father again asked his son for the third time, “What is this?”

At this time some expression of irritation (恼怒) was felt in the son’s tone when he said to his father with a rebuff (生硬回绝) . “It’s a crow , a crow.” A little while later, the father again asked his son the fourth time, “ What is this?”

This time, the son shouted at his father, “ Why do you keep asking me the same question again and again, although I have told you so many times ‘IT IS A CROW’. Are you not able to understand this?’

A little while later the father went to his room and came back with an old tattered (发皱的) diary, which he had maintained since his son was born. On opening a page, he asked his son to read that page. When the son read it, the following words were written in the diary:

“Today my little son aged three was sitting with me on the sofa, when a crow was sitting on the window. My son asked me 23 times what it was, and I replied to him all 23 times that it was a crow. I hugged him lovingly each time he asked me the same question. I did not at all feel annoyed but I rather felt love for my innocent son.

After reading the diary,

Feeling ashamed , the son got down on his knees before his father.

With a wide smile on her face, 15-year-old Sirin eagerly rushed to her mom to show off her new painting. But Mom raised her eyebrows with eyes wide open, and spoke impatiently, “No time, baby. Right now I am busy with an important talk. Just wait for some time, OK?”

Holding her oil painting, she frowned (皱眉),and then searched for her dad. “Dad, see what I have done,” Sirin exclaimed cheerfully. Her dad turned around while adjusting his tie, grinned at her, and showed his thumbs up!

Immediately, Sirin replied angrily, “Dad, you haven’t seen it yet.”

He smiled at her saying, “No time, baby. I will see it later.” He just patted her back lovingly, kissed her forehead, and rushed for his office.

She was not a kid to be pleased with simple gesture or smile. She stood there for a few seconds, and then stormed off to her own bedroom. Hot air was blowing from her nostrils (鼻孔) ; her face turned into apple red. She threw the painting on the table, slammed the door and threw herself on her bed.

“Why is everybody so busy?” She recalled thousands of incidents that hurt her in preschool, middle school and even in high school too! She assumed at least her own family members would give some values to her thoughts, but they were no exception. Unconsciously, her eyes were filled with tears.

The knocking sound on the door put a sudden stop to her thought. Her mom was calling her for dinner. Sirin deliberately (故意地) came late to join them. She kept silent and didn’t look at anyone, scratching the table mat with her nail. Her mom was puzzled at the unusual behavior. Suddenly the morning incident came to mind. Softly, she asked, “ Honey, did I do anything wrong? ”

At this very moment, Sirin could no longer resist her anger.

When back from school the next day, Sirin was surprised to see her beautifully-decorated paining on the wall.

Thank you.

Jenny was the only child in her family. She had a quarrel with her mother that afternoon and she ran out of the house angrily. She couldn’t help weeping sorrowfully when she thought of the scolding from her mother. Having wandered aimlessly in the street for hours, she felt a little hungry and wished for something to eat. She stood beside a stand for a while, watching the middle-aged seller busy doing his business. However, with no money in hand, she gave a sigh and had to leave. The seller behind the stand noticed the young girl and asked, “Hey, girl, you want to have the noodles?” “Oh, yes, but I don’t have money on me.” she replied.

“That’s nothing. I’ll treat you today,” said the man “Come in.” The seller brought her a bowl of noodles, whose smell was so attractive. As she was eating, Jenny cried silently. “What is it?” asked the man kindly. “Nothing. Actually, I was just touched by your kindness!” said Jenny as she wiped her tears. “Even a stranger on the street will give me a bowl of noodles, while my mother drove me out of the house. She showed no care for me. She is so merciless compared to a stranger!” Hearing the words, the seller smiled, “Girl, do you really think so? I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you thanked me a lot. But it is your mother who has raised you since you were a baby. Can you number the times she cooked for you? Have you expressed your gratitude to her?” Jenny sat there, speechless and numb with shock: she remembered her mother’s familiar face and weathered hands. “Why didn’t I think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel indebted. Why haven’t I thanked my mum for what she has done for me?” On the way home. Jenny made up her mind to make an apology to her mother for her rudeness as soon as she arrived home.

Nearing the doorway. Jenny took a deep breath.

A gentle touch on her hair called her mind back.

When I was little, I lived in a house with a beautiful garden full of all kinds of Bowers. There was nothing I enjoyed more than sitting in the garden with my mother reading stories to me. When I was old enough to read, I enjoyed reading stories aloud to her.

I would never forget one day when I was in the third grade. I bad been picked to be the princess in the school play, and for weeks my mother had rehearsed (排练) my lines so hard with me. But however easily I acted at home, the moment I stepped on stage, every word disappeared from my head. Finally, my teacher took me aside, explaining that she had written a narrator’s (解说员) part to the play, and asked me to change roles. Her word, kindly expressed, still hurt, especially when I saw my part go to another girl.

I didn’t tell my mother what had happened when I went home after school that day. But she sensed my pain. Instead of suggesting we practice my lines, she asked if I wanted to take a walk in the garden.

It was May and roses were blossoming and, under the trees, we could also see yellow dandelions (蒲公英) in the grass, as if a painter had painted our garden with red, yellow and green. I watched my mother casually bend down by one dandelion. ”I think I’m going to dig up all these weeds,” she said, pulling it up by its roots. ”From now on, we’ll have only roses in this garden. ”

“But I like dandelions,” I protested, “All flowers are beautiful-even dandelions.” “Yes, every flower is beautiful in its own way, isn’t it?” she asked thoughtfully. I nodded, pleased that I had won her over. “And that is true of people too,” she added. “Not everyone can be a princess, but there is no shame in that.” Relieved that she had guessed my pain, I started to cry as I told her what had happened. She listened and smiled to me gently.

Para 1: “But you will be a beautiful narrator,” she said.

Para 2: After the play, I took home the flower.