A Good Friend

A Good Friend

An English Story

 

 

*

Yasin’s family moved from Iraq to England when he was just a young boy. Yasin did not want to leave his home in Samarra but his father said that it was best for the family because it was not safe to live there anymore and he wanted his son to grow up in a country that was accepting of all people. Yasin’s father told his son that England was a multicultural country where people lived and worked together regardless of race or religious beliefs.

Although Yasin was not happy about leaving Iraq, he soon settled into his new life in a big city called London. London was very exciting with its tall buildings and museums, and Yasin especially liked the London Planetarium and the big River Thames with all of its old bridges.

Yasin even made friends with a boy who lived next door, called Andrew. All summer long, Andrew and Yasin played in the park or went to the zoo with Andrew’s mum. Andrew shared his toys and his comics with Yasin and told him all about his favourite superheroes. They even built a camp in Yasin’s back garden where they would hide from the grownups.

The summer was a fun time and young Yasin soon felt quite at home in London even though it was a very big city and not nearly as sunny and hot as it was in Samarra. His English got better and better, especially with help from Andrew, although there were a lot of words that Yasin did not understand and he often felt silly because he couldn’t speak as well as he would like.

When September finally came around and the leaves began to fall from the trees, Yasin’s father explained that it was time for his son to go to school. Yasin was seven years old so he would be going to year three of the local primary school – the same year as his friend Andrew!

Although Yasin was very nervous about going to school, his father and mother assured him that it would be a fun place where he would meet lots of new friends and learn lots of interesting new things.

‘English schools are supposed to be very good,’ said Yasin’s mother.

‘And your English will get better in no time,’ assured his father.

Yasin was still not convinced, but when Andrew knocked on the door that morning with a big smile on his face saying how fun it was going to be at school, Yasin felt much better because he trusted his friend.

The two boys chatted all the way to the school gates. Andrew told Yasin about the playground and who was the best teacher and what boys were the most fun and what girls were pretty and how they often served custard for pudding at lunchtimes. Yasin did not know what custard was, but Andrew looked very excited about it so Yasin thought it must taste very good.

But when the boys got to their class, things did not go how Yasin imagined they would. The teacher told Andrew to take a seat at the front of the class as she introduced Yasin to the rest of the children. He did not like standing up in front of the class and one boy shouted that he was a smelly foreigner. The boys and girls all laughed, and then another boy made fun of Yasin’s accent when he was asked to say his name and where he came from.

‘I can’t understand him, miss. He can’t even speak English,’ said the nasty boy.

Finally, Yasin was allowed to take a seat at the back of the class but he wished that he was sitting next to Andrew as he felt very alone. The girl sitting beside him kept looking at him in a strange way that made Yasin uncomfortable, and during the lesson she put her hand up and asked the teacher if she could move places. Yasin did not understand what he had done to offend the girl.

When the bell went, it was time to go out into the playground. All the children closed their books, put on their coats and headed out of the door into the bright autumn sunshine. The teacher kept Yasin back for a moment and gave him a badge with his name on which she pinned to his jumper.

‘There you go,’ she said with a smile. ‘Now all of the children will be able to learn your name.’

Yasin thought that the badge looked silly, and when he went out into the playground all of the children began pointing and laughing.

‘You’ve got a girl’s name,’ said a small boy with blond curly hair.

Yasin wanted to explain that it was not a girl’s name but he was too nervous. When Yasin got nervous, his English was not very good and the words always got stuck in his throat. He was very sad and wanted to run out of the playground back to his mother and father and never return to school again. But just as he was about to run, he heard a familiar voice.

‘Hi Yasin.’ And when he looked up there was Andrew standing right beside him.

Andrew looked at the children gathered around and shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with you lot?’ he asked. ‘I told my friend Yasin that school was fun. Why are you ruining it for him?’

‘He’s different,’ said a very tall girl who was standing at the front of the crowd.

‘So are you,’ said Andrew. ‘You are the tallest girl in the whole school and you don’t like it when people make fun of you, do you?’

Then Andrew looked at the boy with the curly hair. ‘And you don’t like it when people say that you have girl’s hair,’ he said to the boy. ‘We are all different and that is what makes us interesting. What would life be like if we were all the same as one another?’

There was silence among the children.

Then Yasin lifted his head high. ‘Boring,’ he said with a smile.

‘That’s right!’ exclaimed Andrew, returning his friend’s smile. ‘Really boring!’

And with that all of the children began to laugh.

‘Really boring,’ they chanted at one another.

Andrew went on to explain how he had spent the summer with Yasin, how they had built a camp together and played in the park, and how Yasin preferred Batman to Superman, and how he really was different because he didn’t even like hotdogs!

The children all laughed some more and soon everybody was talking about all the things that made them different from one another. Peter Jenkins even lifted up his jumper and showed everybody a big purple birthmark on the front of his belly.

‘Now that’s what I call different,’ he said triumphantly. ‘I bet none of you have a big birthmark like mine!’

When break time was over, Andrew put his hand up in class and suggested to the teacher that they should spend the lesson talking about how great it was that everybody was so different from everybody else and how people came to England from all over the world to begin a new life just like his friend Yasin.

The teacher agreed that it was important to be an individual, and she also said how wonderful it was that the whole of Britain was such a multicultural island. Yasin wrote these two words down in his book and promised himself that he would learn them both and remember them always. He also wrote the word ‘friend’ in his book. He already knew what that meant, but he just wanted to write it down because he felt so lucky to have a good friend like Andrew who stood up for people and did not judge them just because they were different./

0

Araby

North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces. The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister. When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses, where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street, light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea, we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed, and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side. Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood. Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires. One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: "O love! O love!" many times. At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go. "And why can't you?" I asked. While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease. "It's well for you," she said. "If I go," I said, "I will bring you something." What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised, and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play. On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly: "Yes, boy, I know." As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I felt the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me. When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress. When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said: "I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord." At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten. "The people are in bed and after their first sleep now," he said. I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically: "Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is." My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy." He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt. I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name. I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins. Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation. "O, I never said such a thing!" "O, but you did!" "O, but I didn't!" "Didn't she say that?" "Yes. I heard her." "O, there's a... fib!" Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured: "No, thank you." The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder. I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark. Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.

0

HOPE AND GREED

Caliph Haroon Rashid desired that any one who had seen the Holy Prophet (SAW) in his lifetime be brought before him. After some time a very old woman was brought before the Caliph. The Caliph asked the old woman, “Did you see the Prophet yourself?” She said, “Yes! Sir.” The Caliph then asked her if she remembered any narration from him. She said yes and said, “When old age comes two things become young, one is hope and the other is greed.” The Caliph thanked her and gave her one hundred dinars. The woman thanked Caliph and she was taken back. Half the way some thought passed through her mind and she desired to be brought before the Caliph once more. When she was shown in, the Caliph asked, “Well, why have you come back?” She said. “I just came to inquire whether the monies you gave me were once for all or is it to continue every year?” The Caliph thought. “How true is the Prophet’s (SAW) word?” she has hope of life even now and she has greed for money too. The Caliph said, “Don’t worry; you will be paid every year.” She was taken back but on the way she breathed her last.

0

A Tale of Jerusalem

LET us hurry to the walls," said Abel-Phittim to Buzi-Ben-Levi and Simeon the Pharisee, on the tenth day of the month Thammuz, in the year of the world three thousand nine hundred and fortyone--let us hasten to the ramparts adjoining the gate of Benjamin, which is in the city of David, and overlooking the camp of the uncircumcised; for it is the last hour of the fourth watch, being sunrise; and the idolaters, in fulfilment of the promise of Pompey, should be awaiting us with the lambs for the sacrifices." Simeon, Abel-Phittim, and Duzi-Ben-Levi were the Gizbarim, or sub-collectors of the offering, in the holy city of Jerusalem. "Verily," replied the Pharisee; "let us hasten: for this generosity in the heathen is unwonted; and fickle-mindedness has ever been an attribute of the worshippers of Baal." "'That they are fickle-minded and treacherous is as true as the Pentateuch," said Buzi-Ben-Levi, "but that is only toward the people of Adonai. When was it ever known that the Ammonites proved wanting to their own interests? Methinks it is no great stretch of generosity to allow us lambs for the altar of the Lord, receiving in lieu thereof thirty silver shekels per head !" "Thou forgettest, however, Ben-Levi," replied Abel-Phittim, "that the Roman Pompey, who is now impiously besieging the city of the Most High, has no assurity that we apply not the lambs thus purchased for the altar, to the sustenance of the body, rather than of the spirit." "Now, by the five corners of my beard!" shouted the Pharisee, who belonged to the sect called The Dashers (that little knot of saints whose manner of dashing and lacerating the feet against the pavement was long a thorn and a reproach to less zealous devotees-a stumbling-block to less gifted perambulators)--"by the five corners of that beard which, as a priest, I am forbidden to shave !-have we lived to see the day when a blaspheming and idolatrous upstart of Rome shall accuse us of appropriating to the appetites of the flesh the most holy and consecrated elements? Have we lived to see the day when---"' "Let us not question the motives of the Philistine," interrupted Abel-Phittim' "for to-day we profit for the first time by his avarice or by his generosity; but rather let us hurry to the ramparts, lest offerings should be wanting for that altar whose fire the rains of heaven can not extinguish, and whose pillars of smoke no tempest can turn aside." That part of the city to which our worthy Gizbarim now hastened, and which bore the name of its architect, King David, was esteemed the most strongly fortified district of Jerusalem; being situated upon the steep and lofty hill of Zion. Here, a broad, deep, circumvallatory trench, hewn from the solid rock, was defended by a wall of great strength erected upon its inner edge. This wall was adorned, at regular interspaces, by square towers of white marble; the lowest sixty, and the highest one hundred and twenty cubits- in height. But, in the vicinity of the gate of Benjamin, the wall arose by no means from the margin of the fosse. On the contrary, between the level of the ditch and the basement of the rampart sprang up a perpendicular cliff of two hundred and fifty cubits, forming part of the precipitous Mount Moriah. So that when Simeon and his associates arrived on the summit of the tower called Adoni-Bezek-the loftiest of all the turrets around about Jerusalem, and the usual place of conference with the besieging army-they looked down upon the camp of the enemy from an eminence excelling by many feet that of the Pyramid of Cheops, and, by several, that of the temple of Belus. "Verily," sighed the Pharisee, as he peered dizzily over the precipice, "the uncircumcised are as the sands by the seashore-as the locusts in the wilderness! The valley of the King hath become the valley of Adommin." "And yet," added Ben-Levi, "thou canst not point me out a Philistine-no, not one-from Aleph to Tau-from the wilderness to the battlements---who seemeth any bigger than the letter Jod!" "Lower away the basket with the shekels of silver!" here shouted a Roman soldier in a hoarse, rough voice, which appeared to issue from the regions of Pluto---"lower away the basket with the accursed coin which it has broken the jaw of a noble Roman to pronounce! Is it thus you evince your gratitude to our master Pompeius, who, in his condescension, has thought fit to listen to your idolatrous importunities? The god Phoebus, who is a true god, has been charioted for an hour-and were you not to be on the ramparts by sunrise? Aedepol! do you think that we, the conquerors of the world, have nothing better to do than stand waiting by the walls of every kennel, to traffic with the dogs of the earth? Lower away! I say--and see that your trumpery be bright in color and just in weight!" "El Elohim!" ejaculated the Pharisee, as the discordant tones of the centurion rattled up the crags of the precipice, and fainted away against the temple -"El Elohim!--who is the god Phoebus?--whom doth the blasphemer invoke? Thou, Buzi-BenLevi! who art read in the laws of the Gentiles, and hast sojourned among them who dabble with the Teraphim!--is it Nergal of whom the idolater speaketh?----or Ashimah?--or Nibhaz,--or Tartak? --or Adramalech?--or Anamalech?--or Succoth-Benith?---or Dagon?---or Belial?---or Baal-Perith? -or Baal-Peor?---or Baal-Zebub?" "Verily it is neither-but beware how thou lettest the rope slip too rapidly through thy fingers; for should the wicker-work chance to hang on the projection of Yonder crag, there will be a woful outpouring of the holy things of the sanctuary." By the assistance of some rudely constructed machinery, the heavily laden basket was now carefully lowered down among the multitude; and, from the giddy pinnacle, the Romans were seen gathering confusedly round it; but owing to the vast height and the prevalence of a fog, no distinct view of their operations could be obtained. Half an hour had already elapsed. "We shall be too late!" sighed the Pharisee, as at the expiration of this period he looked over into the abyss-"we shall be too late! we shall be turned out of office by the Katholim." "No more," responded Abel-Phittim----"no more shall we feast upon the fat of the land-no longer shall our beards be odorous with frankincense--our loins girded up with fine linen from the Temple." "Racal" swore Ben-Levi, "Racal do they mean to defraud us of the purchase money? or, Holy Moses ! are they weighing the shekels of the tabernacle ?" "They have given the signal at last!" cried the Pharisee-----"they have given the signal at last!pull away, Abel-Phittim!-and thou, Buzi-Ben-Levi, pull away!-for verily the Philistines have either still hold upon the basket, or the Lord hath softened their hearts to place therein a beast of good weight!" And the Gizbarim pulled away, while their burden swung heavily upward through the still increasing mist. "Booshoh he!"-as, at the conclusion of an hour, some object at the extremity of the rope became indistinctly visible-"Booshoh he!" was the exclamation which burst from the lips of Ben-Levi. . . . . . . . . . . "Booshoh he!--for shame!-it is a ram from the thickets of Engedi, and as rugged as the valley of jehosaphat!" "It is a firstling of the flock," said Abel-Phittim, "I know him by the bleating of his lips, and the innocent folding of his limbs. His eyes are more beautiful than the jewels of the Pectoral, and his flesh is like the honey of Hebron." "It is a fatted calf from the pastures of Bashan," said the Pharisee, "the heathen have dealt wonderfully with us ----let us raise up our voices in a psalm --let us give thanks on the shawm and on the psaltery-on the harp and on the huggab-on the cythern and on the sackbut!" It was not until the basket had arrived within a few feet of the Gizbarim that a low grunt betrayed to their perception a hog of no common size. "Now El Emanu!" slowly and with upturned eyes ejaculated the trio, as, letting go their hold, the emancipated porker tumbled headlong among the Philistines, "El Emanu!-God be with us---it is the unutterable flesh!"

0

THE CRYSTAL BAL

In the south of Spain, there was a small village whose people were very joyful and lucky. The children played under the shade of trees in the gardens of their home. A shepherd boy whose name was Nasir, stayed near the village with his father, mother and grandmother. Early morning each day, he takes his herd of goats up the hills to find a suitable place for them to graze. In the afternoon he would return with them to the village. At night his grandmother would tell him a story. The story of stars. This story really interested Nasir. As usual, on one of these days, as Nasir was watching his herd and playing his flute he suddenly saw a wonderful light behind the flower bush. When he came towards the branches he saw a transparent and most beautiful crystal ball. The crystal ball was glittering like a colorful rainbow. Nasir carefully took it in his hand and turned it around. With surprise suddenly he heard a weak voice coming from the crystal ball. It said; “You can make a wish that your heart desires and I will fulfill it.” Nasir could not believe that he had actually heard a voice. But he became so engrossed in his thoughts for he had so many wishes but he must wish for something which was impossible like the wish to be able to fly. He said to himself, if I wait till tomorrow I will remember many things. He put the crystal ball in a bag and gathered the herd, happily returned back to the village. He decided that he would not tell anyone about the crystal ball. On the following day also, Nasir could not decide what to wish for, because he really had everything he needed. The days passed as usual, and Nasir appeared to be very cheerful that the people around him were amazed to see his cheerful disposition. One day a boy followed Nasir and his herd and hid behind a tree. Nasir as usual sat in one corner, took out the crystal ball and for a few moments looked at it. The boy waited for the moment when Nasir would go to sleep. Then he took the crystal ball and ran away. When he arrived in the village, he called all the people and showed them the crystal ball. The citizens of that village took the crystal ball in their hand and turned it around with surprise. Suddenly they heard a voice from inside the crystal ball, which says, “I can fulfill your wish.” One person took the ball and screamed, “I want one bag full of gold.” Another took the ball and said loudly, “I want two chest full of jewelry.” Some of them wished that they would have their own palace with grand door made from pure gold instead of their old houses. Some also wished for bags full of jewelry, but nobody asked for gardens in their palaces. All their wishes were fulfilled but still the citizens of the village were not happy. They were jealous because the person that had a palace had no gold and the person that had the gold had no palace. For this reason, the citizens of the village were angry and were not speaking to each other. There was not even one garden which existed in the village where the children could play. The patience of the children was running out and they were uncomfortable. Nasir and his family were happy and pleased. Every morning and afternoon he would play the flute. The children could not wait anymore and decided to return the crystal ball to Nasir. The parents and neighbors went to him. The children said to Nasir; “When we had a small village we all were happy and joyful.” The parent also spoke. In one way or another nobody is happy. The expensive palaces and jewelry only bring us pain. When Nasir saw that the people were really regretful, he said I have not wished till now, if you really want everything to return to its own place, then I will wish for it. Everyone happily agreed. Nasir took the crystal ball in his hand turned around and wished that the village become the same as it was before. Everyone quickly turned towards the village and saw it became the same old village with gardens full of trees and fruits.Once again the people started to live happily and the children played under the shade of trees. From the next day and everyday at sunset the sound of Nasir’s flute could be heard in the village.

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GENEROSITY

Mahatma Gandhi went from city to city, village to village collecting funds for the Charkha Sangh. During one of his tours he addressed a meeting in Orissa. After his speech a poor old woman got up. She was bent with age, her hair was grey and her clothes were in tatters. The volunteers tried to stop her, but she fought her way to the place where Gandhi Ji was sitting. “I must see him,” she insisted and going up to Gandhi Ji touched his feet. Then from the folds of her sari she brought out a copper coin and placed it at his feet. Gandhi Ji picked up the copper coin and put it away carefully. The Charkha Sangh funds were under the charge of Jamnalal Bajaj. He asked Gandhi Ji for the coin but Gandhi Ji refused. “I keep cheques worth thousands of rupees for the Charkha Sangh,” Jamnalal Bajaj said laughingly “yet you won’t trust me with a copper coin.” “This copper coin is worth much more than those thousands” Gandhi Ji said. “If a man has several lakhs and he gives away a thousand or two, it doesn’t mean much.” But this coin was perhaps all that the poor woman possessed. She gave me all she had. That was very generous of her. What a great sacrifice she made. That is why I value this copper coin more than a crore of rupees. “Remember your graves because your way passes over it. You will be dealt with as you deal with others, you will reap what you sow, and what you send today will meet you tomorrow.” Imam Ali (AS) "Overlook and forgive the weakness of generous people, because if they fall down, Allah gives his hand in their hands and helps them…." Imam Ali

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WORDS AND ACTIONS SHOULD BE THE SAME

There once was a boy who loved eating sweets. He always asked for sweets from his father. His father was a poor man. He could not always afford sweets for his son. But the little boy did not understand this, and demanded sweets all the time. The boy’s father thought hard about how to stop the child asking for so many sweets. There was a very holy man living nearby at that time. The boy’s father had an idea. He decided to take the boy to the great man who might be able to persuade the child to stop asking for sweets all the time. The boy and his father went along to the great man. The father said to him, “O great saint, could you ask my son to stop asking for sweets which I cannot afford?” The great man was in difficulty, because he liked sweets himself. How could he ask the boy to give up asking for sweets? The holy man told the father to bring his son back after one month. During that month, the holy man gave up eating sweets, and when the boy and his father returned after a month, the holy man said to the boy “My dear child, will you stop asking for sweets which your father cannot afford to give you?” From then on, the boy stopped asking for sweets. The boy’s father asked the saint, “Why did you not ask my son to give up asking for sweets when we came to you a month ago?” The saint replied, “How could I ask a boy to give up sweets when I loved sweets myself. In the last month I gave up eating sweets.” A person’s example is much more powerful than just his words. When we ask someone to do something, we must do it ourselves also. We should not ask others to do what we do not do ourselves.

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THE ONE-EYED DOE

A Doe had the misfortune to lose one of her eyes, and could not see any one approaching her on that side. So to avoid any danger she always used to feed on a high cliff near the sea, with her sound eye looking towards the land. By this means she could see whenever the hunters approached her on land, and often escaped by this means. But the hunters found out that she was blind of one eye, and hiring a boat rowed under the cliff where she used to feed and shot her from the sea. “Ah,” cried she with her dying voice. “You cannot escape your fate.”

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YOU ARE PRICELESS TO THOSE WHO LOVE YOU

well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20 bill. In the room of 200, he asked, “Who would like this $20 bill?” Hands started going up. He said, “I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this.” He proceeded to crumple up the $20 bill. He asked, “Who still wants it?” Still hands were up in the air. “Well, what if I do this?” He dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty and asked, “Who still wants it?” Still hands went up into the air. My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what was done to the money, it was still wanted because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We may feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or will happen, you will never lose your value: dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who love you.

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The Call of the Wild - Study Guide

The story is told by a dog named Buck, a 140 pound Saint Bernard- Shepherd mix, who is abducted from his comfortable life as a pet to endure the cruel, chaotic, and harsh conditions as a working sled dog during the Klondike Gold Rush in the 1890s. Buck is mistreated by many owners before he ends up in the kindly hands of John Thornton, after enduring a severe beating for refusing to make an unsafe river crossing. Buck lets Thornton nurse him back to health. Thornton recognizes the dog's intelligence, strength, and assumed leadership of the pack as they endure many hardships in their quest to find gold. Their circumstances reduce their goal to mere survival, as both cannot ever fully recover from the cruelty of other men. Their enduring friendship becomes the defining featuring of their survival. Yeehat Indians attack Thornton's camp, killing Thornton, Hans, Pete and the dogs Skeet and Nig. Buck attacks the chief and rips his throat, the others try to shoot Buck, but hit their friends instead. Buck is regarded as an Evil Spirit, the Ghost Dog who kills hunters and warriors in the valley they refuse to enter. Buck provided his instinct and hardened heart; he is now truly wild. But he'll never forget the enduring love from one man, proven better than one in ten thousand.

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THE SELFISH MAN

Once upon a time, there was a selfish man. He liked everything to be his own. He could not share his belongings with anyone, not even his friends or the poor. One day, the man lost thirty gold coins. He went to his friend’s house and told him how he lost his gold coins. His friend was a kind man. As his friend’s daughter was coming from an errand she found thirty gold coins, when she arrived home, she told her father what she had found. The girl’s father told her that the gold coins belong to his friend and he sent for him. When the selfish man arrived, he told him how his daughter had found his thirty gold coins and handed then to him. After counting the gold coins the man said that ten of them was missing and had been taken by the girl as he had forty gold coins. He further commented that he will recover the remaining amount from him. But the girl’s father refused. The man left the gold coins and went to the court and informed the judge there about what had taken place between him and the girl’s father. The judge sent for the girl and her father, and when they arrived asked the girl how many gold coins did she find. She replied thirty gold coins. The Judge that asked the selfish man how many gold coins did he lose and he answered forty gold coins. The judge then told the man that the gold coins did not belong to him because the girl found thirty and not forty as he claimed to have lost and then told the girl to take the gold coins and that if any- body is looking for them he will send for the girl. The judge told the man that if anybody reports that they have found forty gold coins he will send for him. It was then that the man confessed that he lied and that he lost thirty gold coins but the judge did not listen to him. This story teaches us to be always honest as dishonest never pays.

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CATS AND ROOSTERS

Once upon a time in Africa, roosters ruled cats. The cats worked hard all day and at night they had to bring all they had gathered for the roosters. The king of the roosters would take all the food for himself and for the other roosters. The roosters loved to eat ants. Thus, every cat had a purse hung round its neck, which it filled with ants for the king of the roosters. The cats did not like the situation. They wanted to rid themselves of the king so that the food they gathered through hard work and great difficulty would be their own. But they were afraid of the roosters. The roosters had told the cats that rooster’s combs were made out of fire and that the fire of their combs would burn anyone who disobeyed them! The cats believed them and therefore worked from early morning until night for the roosters. One night, the fire on the house of Mrs. Cat went out. She told her kitten, Fluffy, to bring some fire from Mr. Rooster’s house. When Fluffy went into the house of the rooster, she saw that Mr. Rooster was fast asleep, his stomach swollen with the ants he had eaten. The kitten was afraid to wake the rooster, so she returned home empty handed and told her mother what had happened. Mrs. Cat said, “Now that the rooster is asleep, gather some dry twigs and place them near his comb. As soon as the twigs catch fire, bring them home.” Fluffy gathered some dry twigs and took them to the rooster’s house. He was still asleep. Fluffy fearfully put the dry twigs near the rooster’s comb but it was no use, the twigs did not catch fire. Fluffy rubbed the twigs against the rooster’s comb again but it was no use they would not catch fire. Fluffy returned home without any fire and told her mother, “The roost’s comb does not set twigs on fire.” Mrs. Cat answered “Why can’t you do anything right! Come with me I’ll show you how to make fire with the rooster’s comb.” So together they went to the house of Mr. Rooster. He was still asleep. Mrs. Cat put the twigs as near to the rooster’s comb as she could. But the twigs did not catch fire. Then, shaking with fear, she put her paw near the rooster’s comb and gently touched it. To her surprise, the comb was not hot, it was very cold, and it was just red colored. As soon as Mrs. Cat realized that the roosters had lied to the cats about their combs, she joyfully went out and told the other cats about the rooster’s tricks. From that day on, the cats no longer worked for the roosters. At first, the king of the roosters became very angry and said to the cats; “I will burn all of your houses if you do not work for me!” But the cats said, “Your comb is not made of fire. It is just the color of fire. We touched it when you were sleep. You lied to us.”

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How the Prince Saw America

They began work at seven-thirty, and at ten minutes past eight every hammer stopped. In the Senate Chamber and in the House, on the stairways and in the corridors, in every office from the Governor's to the custodian's they laid down their implements and rose to their feet. A long whistle had sounded through the building. There was magic in its note. "What's the matter with you fellows?" asked the attorney-general, swinging around in his chair. "Strike," declared one of the men, with becoming brevity. "Strike of what?" "Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One," replied the man, kindly gathering up a few tacks. "Never heard of it." "Organised last night," said the carpet-tacker, putting on his coat. "Well I'll--" he paused expressively, then inquired: "What's your game?" "Well, you see, boss, this executive council that runs the State-house has refused our demands." "What are your demands?" "Double pay." "Double pay! Now how do you figure it out that you ought to have double pay?" "Rush work. You see we were under oath, or pretty near that, to get every carpet in the State-house down by four o'clock this afternoon. Now you know yourself that rush work is hard on the nerves. Did you ever get rush work done at a laundry and not pay more for it? We was anxious as anybody to get the Capitol in shape for the big show this afternoon. But there's reason in all things." "Yes," agreed his auditor, "there is." The man looked at him a little doubtfully. "Our president--we elected Johnny McGuire president last night--went to the Governor this morning with our demands." The Governor's fellow official smiled--he knew the Governor pretty well. "And he turned you down?" The striker nodded. "But there's an election next fall; maybe the turning down will be turned around." "Maybe so--you never can tell. I don't know just what power Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One will wield, but the Governor's pretty solid, you know, with Labour as a whole." That was true, and went home. The striker rubbed his foot uncertainly across the floor, and took courage from its splinters. "Well, there's one thing sure. When Prince Ludwig and his train-load of big guns show up at four o'clock this afternoon they'll find bare floors, and pretty bum bare floors, on deck at this place." The attorney-general rubbed his own foot across the splintered, miserable boards. "They are pretty bum," he reflected. "I wonder," he added, as the man was half-way out of the door, "what Prince Ludwig will think of the American working-man when he arrives this afternoon?" "Just about as much," retorted the not-to-be-downed carpet-tacker, "as he does about American generosity. And he may think a few things," he added weightily, "about American independence." "Oh, he's sure to do that," agreed the attorney-general. He joined the crowd in the corridor. They were swarming out from all the offices, all talking of the one thing. "It was a straight case of hold-up," declared the Governor's secretary. "They supposed they had us on the hip. They were getting extra money as it was, but you see they just figured it out we'd pay anything rather than have these wretched floors for the reception this afternoon. They thought the Governor would argue the question, and then give in, or, at any rate, compromise. They never intended for one minute that the Prince should find bare floors here. And I rather think," he concluded, "that they feel a little done up about it themselves." "What's the situation?" asked a stranger within the gates. "It's like this," a newspaper reporter told him; "about a month ago there was a fire here and the walls and carpets were pretty well knocked out with smoke and water. The carpets were mean old things anyway, so they voted new ones. And I want to tell you"--he swelled with pride--"that the new ones are beauties. The place'll look great when we get 'em down. Well, you know Prince Ludwig and his crowd cross the State on their way to the coast, and of course they were invited to stop. Last week Billy Patton--he's running the whole show--declined the invitation on account of lack of time, and then yesterday comes a telegram saying the Prince himself insisted on stopping. You know he's keen about Indian dope--and we've got Indian traditions to burn. So Mr. Bill Patton had to make over his schedule to please the Prince, and of course we were all pretty tickled about it, for more reasons than one. The telegram didn't come until five o'clock yesterday afternoon, but you know what a hummer the Governor is when he gets a start. He made up his mind this building should be put in shape within twenty-four hours. They engaged a whole lot of fellows to work on the carpets to-day. Then what did they do but get together last night--well, you know the rest. Pretty bum-looking old shack just now, isn't it?" and the reporter looked around ruefully. It was approaching the hour for the legislature to convene, and the members who were beginning to saunter in swelled the crowd--and the indignation--in the rotunda. The Governor, meanwhile, had been trying to get other men, but Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One had looked well to that. The biggest furniture dealer in the city was afraid of the plumbers. "Pipes burst last night," he said, "and they may not do a thing for us if we get mixed up in this. Sorry--but I can't let my customers get pneumonia." Another furniture man was afraid of the teamsters. For one reason or another no one was disposed to respond to the Macedonian cry, and when the Governor at last gave it up and walked out into the rotunda he was about as disturbed as he permitted himself to get. "It's the idea of lying down," he said. "I'd do anything--anything!--if I could only think what to do." A popular young member of the House overheard the remark. "By George, Governor," he burst forth, after a minute's deep study--"say--by Jove, I say, let's do it ourselves!" They all laughed, but the Governor's laugh stopped suddenly, and he looked hard at the young man. "Why not?" the young legislator went on. "It's a big job, but there are a lot of us. We've all put down carpets at home; what are we afraid to tackle it here for?" Again the others laughed, but the Governor did not. "Say, Weston," he said, "I'd give a lot--I tell you I'd give a lot--if we just could!" "Leave it to me!"--and he was lost in the crowd. The Governor's eyes followed him. He had always liked Harry Weston. He was the very sort to inspire people to do things. The Governor smiled knowingly as he noted the men Weston was approaching, and his different manner with the various ones. And then he had mounted a few steps of the stairway, and was standing there facing the crowd. "Now look here," he began, after silence had been obtained, "this isn't a very formal meeting, but it's a mighty important one. It's a clear case of Carpet-Tackers' Union against the State. What I want to know is--Is the State going to lie down?" There were loud cries of "No!"--"Well, I should say not!" "Well, then, see here. The Governor's tried for other men and can't get them. Now the next thing I want to know is--What's the matter with us?" They didn't get it for a minute, and then everybody laughed. "It's no joke! You've all put down carpets at home; what's the use of pretending you don't know how to do it? Oh yes--I know, bigger building, and all that, but there are more of us, and the principle of carpet-tacking is the same, big building or little one. Now my scheme is this--Every fellow his own carpet-tacker! The Governor's office puts down the Governor's carpet; the Secretary's office puts down the Secretary's carpet; the Senate puts down the Senate carpet--and we'll look after our little patch in the House!" "But you've got more fellows than anybody else," cried a member of the Senate. "Right you are, and we'll have an over-flow meeting in the corridors and stairways. The House, as usual, stands ready to do her part,"--that brought a laugh for the Senators, and from them. "Now get it out of your heads this is a joke. The carpets are here; the building is full of able-bodied men; the Prince is coming at four--by his own request, and the proposition is just this: Are we going to receive him in a barn or in a palace? Let's hear what Senator Arnold thinks about it." That was a good way of getting away from the idea of its being a joke. Senator Arnold was past seventy. Slowly he extended his right arm and tested his muscle. "Not very much," he said, "but enough to drive a tack or two." That brought applause and they drew closer together, and the atmosphere warmed perceptibly. "I've fought for the State in more ways than one,"--Senator Arnold was a distinguished veteran of the Civil War--"and if I can serve her now by tacking down carpets, then it's tacking down carpets I'm ready to go at. Just count on me for what little I'm worth." Someone started the cry for the Governor. "Prince Ludwig is being entertained all over the country in the most lavish manner," he began, with his characteristic directness in stating a situation. "By his own request he is to visit our Capitol this afternoon. I must say that I, for one, want to be in shape for him. I don't like to tell him that we had a labour complication and couldn't get the carpets down. Speaking for myself, it is a great pleasure to inform you that the carpet in the Governor's office will be in proper shape by four o'clock this afternoon." That settled it. Finally Harry Weston made himself heard sufficiently to suggest that when the House and Senate met at nine o'clock motions to adjourn be entertained. "And as to the rest of you fellows," he cried, "I don't see what's to hinder your getting busy right now!" There were Republicans and there were Democrats; there were friends and there were enemies; there were good, bad and--no, there were no indifferent. An unprecedented harmony of thought, a millennium-like unity of action was born out of that sturdy cry--Every man his own carpet-tacker! The Secretary of State always claimed that he drove the first tack, but during the remainder of his life the Superintendent of Public Instruction also contended hotly for that honour. The rivalry as to who would do the best job, and get it done most quickly, became intense. Early in the day Harry Weston made the rounds of the building and announced a fine of one-hundred dollars for every wrinkle. There were pounded fingers and there were broken backs, but slowly, steadily and good-naturedly the State-house carpet was going down. It was a good deal bigger job than they had anticipated, but that only added zest to the undertaking. The news of how the State officials were employing themselves had spread throughout the city, and guards were stationed at every door to keep out people whose presence would work more harm than good. All assistance from women was courteously refused. "This is solemn business," said the Governor, in response to a telephone from some of the fair sex, "and the introduction of the feminine element might throw about it a social atmosphere which would result in loss of time. And then some of the boys might feel called upon to put on their collars and coats." Stretch--stretch--stretch, and tack--tack--tack, all morning long it went on, for the State-house was large--oh, very large. There should have been a Boswell there to get the good things, for the novelty of the situation inspired wit even in minds where wit had never glowed before. Choice bits which at other times would fairly have gone on official record were now passed almost unnoticed, so great was the surfeit. Instead of men going out to lunch, lunch came in to them. Bridget Haggerty, who by reason of her long connection with the boarding-house across the street was a sort of unofficial official of the State, came over and made the coffee and sandwiches, all the while calling down blessings on the head of every mother's son of them, and announcing in loud, firm tones that while all five of her boys belonged to the union she'd be after tellin' them what she thought of this day's work! It was a United States Senator who did the awful trick, and, to be fair, the Senator did not think of it as an awful trick at all. He came over there in the middle of the morning to see the Governor, and in a few hurried words--it was no day for conversation--was told what was going on. It was while standing out in the corridor watching the perspiring dignitaries that the idea of his duty came to him, and one reason he was sure he was right was the way in which it came to him in the light of a duty. Here was America in undress uniform! Here was--not a thing arranged for show, but absolutely the thing itself! Prince Ludwig had come with a sincere desire to see America. Every one knew that he was not seeing it at all. He would go back with memories of bands and flags and people all dressed up standing before him making polite speeches. But would he carry back one small whiff of the spirit of the country? Again Senator Bruner looked about him. The Speaker of the House was just beginning laying the stair carpet; a judge of the Supreme Court was contending hotly for a better hammer. "It's an insult to expect any decent man to drive tacks with a hammer like this," he was saying. Here were men--real, live men, men with individuality, spirit. When the Prince had come so far, wasn't it too bad that he should not see anything but uniforms and cut glass and dress suits and other externals and non-essentials? Senator Bruner was a kind man; he was a good fellow; he was hospitable--patriotic. He decided now in favour of the Prince. He had to hurry about it, for it was almost twelve then. One of the vice-presidents of the road lived there, and he was taken into confidence, and proved an able and eager ally. They located the special train bearing the Prince and ordered it stopped at the next station. The stop was made that Senator Patton might receive a long telegram from Senator Bruner. "I figure it like this," the Senator told the vice-president. "They get to Boden at a quarter of one and were going to stop there an hour. Then they were going to stop a little while at Creyville. I've told Patton the situation, and that if he wants to do the right thing by the prince he'll cut out those stops and rush right through here. That will bring him in--well, they could make it at a quarter of two. I've told him I'd square it with Boden and Creyville. Oh, he'll do it all right." And even as he said so came the reply from Patton: "Too good to miss. Will rush through. Arrive before two. Have carriage at Water Street." "That's great!" cried the Senator. "Trust Billy Patton for falling in with a good thing. And he's right about missing the station crowd. Patton can always go you one better," he admitted, grinningly. They had luncheon together, and they were a good deal more like sophomores in college than like a United States Senator and a big railroad man. "You don't think there's any danger of their getting through too soon?" McVeigh kept asking, anxiously. "Not a bit," the Senator assured him. "They can't possibly make it before three. We'll come in just in time for the final skirmish. It's going to be a jolly rush at the last." They laid their plans with skill worthy of their training. The State library building was across from the Capitol, and they were connected by tunnel. "I never saw before," said the Senator, "what that tunnel was for, but I see now what a great thing it is. We'll get him in at the west door of the library--we can drive right up to it, you know, and then we walk him through the tunnel. That's a stone floor"--the Senator was chuckling with every sentence--"so I guess they won't be carpeting it. There's a little stairway running up from the tunnel---and say, we must telephone over and arrange about those keys. There'll be a good deal of climbing, but the Prince is a good fellow, and won't mind. It wouldn't be safe to try the elevator, for Harry Weston would be in it taking somebody a bundle of tacks. The third floor is nothing but store rooms; we'll not be disturbed up there, and we can look right down the rotunda and see the whole show. Of course we'll be discovered in time; some one is sure to look up and see us, but we'll fix it so they won't see us before we've had our fun, and it strikes me, McVeigh, that for two old fellows like you and me we've put the thing through in pretty neat shape." It was a very small and unpretentious party which stepped from the special at Water Street a little before two. The Prince was wearing a long coat and an automobile cap and did not suggest anything at all formidable or unusual. "You've saved the country," Senator Patton whispered in an aside. "He was getting bored. Never saw a fellow jolly up so in my life. Guess he was just spoiling for some fun. Said it would be really worth while to see somebody who wasn't looking for him." Senator Bruner beamed. "That's just the point. He's caught my idea exactly." It went without a hitch. "I feel," said the Prince, as they were hurrying him through the tunnel, "that I am a little boy who has run away from school. Only I have a terrible fear that at any minute some band may begin to play, and somebody may think of making a speech." They gave this son of a royal house a seat on a dry-goods box, so placed that he could command a good view, and yet be fairly secure. The final skirmish was on in earnest. Two State Senators--coatless, tieless, collarless, their faces dirty, their hair rumpled, were finishing the stair carpet. The chairman of the appropriations committee in the House was doing the stretching in a still uncarpeted bit of the corridor, and a member who had recently denounced the appropriations committee as a disgrace to the State was presiding at the hammer. They were doing most exquisitely harmonious team work. A railroad and anti-railroad member who fought every time they came within speaking distance of one another were now in an earnest and very chummy conference relative to a large wrinkle which had just been discovered on the first landing. Many men were standing around holding their backs, and many others were deeply absorbed in nursing their fingers. The doors of the offices were all open, and there was a general hauling in of furniture and hanging of pictures. Clumsy but well-meaning fingers were doing their best with "finishing touches." The Prince grew so excited about it all that they had to keep urging him not to take too many chances of being seen. "And I'll tell you," Senator Bruner was saying, "it isn't only because I knew it would be funny that I wanted you to see it; but--well, you see America isn't the real America when she has on her best clothes and is trying to show off. You haven't seen anybody who hasn't prepared for your coming, and that means you haven't seen them as they are at all. Now here we are. This is us! You see that fellow hanging a picture down there? He's president of the First National Bank. Came over a little while ago, got next to the situation, and stayed to help. And--say, this is good! Notice that red-headed fellow just getting up from his knees? Well, he's president of the teamsters' union--figured so big in a strike here last year. I call that pretty rich! He's the fellow they are all so afraid of, but I guess he liked the idea of the boys doing it themselves, and just sneaked in and helped.--There's the Governor. He's a fine fellow. He wouldn't be held up by anybody--not even to get ready for a Prince, but he's worked like a Trojan all day to make things come his way. Yes sir--this is the sure-enough thing. Here you have the boys off dress parade. Not that we run away from our dignity every day, but--see what I mean?" "I see," replied the Prince, and he looked as though he really did. "You know--say, dodge there! Move back! No--too late. The Governor's caught us. Look at him!" The Governor's eyes had turned upward, and he had seen. He put his hands on his back--he couldn't look up without doing that--and gave a long, steady stare. First, Senator Bruner waved; then Senator Patton waved; then Mr. McVeigh waved; and then the Prince waved. Other people were beginning to look up. "They're all on," laughed Patton, "let's go down." At first they were disposed to think it pretty shabby treatment. "We worked all day to get in shape," grumbled Harry Weston, "and then you go ring the curtain up on us before it's time for our show to begin." But the Prince made them feel right about it. He had such a good time that they were forced to concede the move had been a success. And he said to the Governor as he was leaving: "I see that the only way to see America is to see it when America is not seeing you."

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THE PROUD RED ROSE

One beautiful spring day a red rose blossomed in a forest. Many kinds of trees and plants grew there. As the rose looked around, a pine tree nearby said, “What a beautiful flower. I wish I was that lovely.” Another tree said, “Dear pine, do not be sad, we can not have everything.” The rose turned its head and remarked, “It seems that I am the most beautiful plant in this forest.” A sunflower raised its yellow head and asked, “Why do you say that? In this forest there are many beautiful plants. You are just one of them.” The red rose replied, “I see everyone looking at me and admiring me.” Then the rose looked at a cactus and said, “Look at that ugly plant full of thorns!” The pine tree said, “Red rose, what kind of talk is this? Who can say what beauty is? You have thorns too.” The proud red rose looked angrily at the pine and said, “I thought you had good taste! You do not know what beauty is at all. You can not compare my thorns to that of the cactus.” “What a proud flower”, thought the trees. The rose tried to move its roots away from the cactus, but it could not move. As the days passed, the red rose would look at the cactus and say insulting things, like: This plant is useless? How sorry I am to be his neighbor. The cactus never got upset and he even tried to advise the rose, saying, “God did not create any form of life without a purpose.” Spring passed, and the weather became very warm. Life became difficult in the forest, as the plants and animals needed water and no rain fell. The red rose began to wilt. One day the rose saw sparrows stick their beaks into the cactus and then fly away, refreshed. This was puzzling, and the red rose asked the pine tree what the birds were doing. The pine tree explained that the birds got water from the cactus. “Does it not hurt when they make holes?” asked the rose. “Yes, but the cactus does not like to see any birds suffer,” replied the pine. The rose opened its eyes in wonder and said, “The cactus has water?” “Yes you can also drink from it. The sparrow can bring water to you if you ask the cactus for help.”

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A MERCHANT AND HIS DONKEY

One beautiful spring morning, a merchant loaded his donkey with bags of salt to go to the market in order to sell them. The merchant and his donkey were walking along together. They had not walked far when they reached a river on the road. Unfortunately, the donkey slipped and fell into the river and noticed that the bags of salt loaded on his back became lighter. There was nothing the merchant could do, except return home where he loaded his donkey with more bags of salt. As they reached the slippery riverbank, now deliberately, the donkey fell into the river and wasted all the bags of salt on its back again. The merchant quickly discovered the donkey’s trick. He then returned home again but re-loaded his donkey with bags of sponges. The foolish, tricky donkey again set on its way. On reaching the river he again fell into the water. But instead of the load becoming lighter, it became heavier.

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THE CLEVER BOY

A man with his donkey carrying two sacks of wheat was on his way to the market. After a little while he was tired and they rested under a tree. When he woke up from his nap he could not see the donkey and started searching for the donkey everywhere. On the way he met a boy, he asked the boy, “Have you seen my donkey?” The boy asked, “Is the donkey’s left eye blind, his right foot lame and is he carrying a load of wheat?” The man was happy and said, “Yes, exactly! Where have you seen it?” the boy answered “I haven’t seen it.” This made the man very angry and he took the boy to the village chief for punishment. The judge asked, “Dear boy, if you had not seen at the donkey, how could you describe it?” The boy answered, “I saw the tracks of a donkey and the right and left tracks were different from this I understood that the donkey that passed there was limping. And the grass on the right side of the road was eaten but the grass on the left was not. From that I understood that his left eye was blind. There were wheat seeds scattered on the ground and I understood that he must have been carrying a load of wheat. The judge understood the boy’s cleverness and told the man to forgive the boy.

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THE THREE WISE MEN

day some wise men, who were going about the country trying to find answers to some of the great questions of their time, came to Nasreddin’s district and asked to see the wisest man in the place. Nasreddin was brought forward, and a big crowd gathered to listen. The first wise man began by asking, “Where is the exact center of the world?” “It is under my right heel,” answered Nasreddin. “How can you prove that?” asked the first wise man. “If you don’t believe me,” answered Nasreddin, “measure and see.” The first wise man had nothing to answer to that, so the second wise man asked his question. “How many stars are there in the sky?” he said. “As many as there are hairs on my donkey,” answered Nasreddin. “What proof have you got of that?” asked the second wise man. “If you don’t believe me,” answered Nasreddin, “count the hairs on my donkey and you will see.” “That’s foolish talk,” said the other. “How can one count the hairs on a donkey?” “Well,” answered Nasreddin, “How can one count the stars in the sky? If one is foolish talk, so is the other.” The second wise man was silent. The third wise man was becoming annoyed with Nasreddin and his answers, so he said, “You seem to know a lot about your donkey, so can you tell me how many hairs there are in its tail?” “Yes,” answered Nasreddin. “There are exactly as many hairs in its tail as there are in your beard.” “How can you prove that?” said the other. “I can prove it very easily,” answered Nasreddin. “You can pull one hair out of my donkey’s tail for every one I pull out of your beard. If the hairs on my donkey’s tail do not come to an end at exactly the same time as the hairs in your beard, I will admit that I was wrong.” Of course, the third wise man was not willing to do this, so the crowd declared Nasreddin the winner of the day’s arguments.

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THE CAGE BIRD'S ESCAPE

Once upon a time, there was a bird in a cage who sang for her merchant owner. He took delight in her song day and night, and was so fond of her that he served her water in a golden dish. Before he left for a business trip, he asked the bird if she had a wish: “I will go through the forest where you were born, past the birds of your old neighborhood. What message should I take for them?” The bird said, “Tell them I sit full of sorrow in a cage singing my captive song. Day and night, my heart is full of grief. I hope it will not be long before I see my friends again and fly freely through the trees. Bring me a message from the lovely forest, which will set my heart at ease. Oh, I yearn for my Beloved, to fly with him, and spread my wings. Until then there is no joy for me, and I am cut off from all of life’s sweet things.” The merchant traveled on his donkey through the dense forest. He listened to the melodies of many birds. When the merchant reached the forest where his bird came from, he stopped, pushed his hood back, and said, “O you birds! Greetings to you all from my pretty bird locked in her cage. She sends tidings of her love to you and wants to tell of her plight. She asks for a reply that will ease her heart. My love for her keeps her captive with bars all around her. She wants to join her Beloved and sing her songs through the air with a free heart, but I would miss her beautiful songs and cannot let her go.” All the birds listened to the merchant’s words. Suddenly one bird shrieked and fell from a tree brunch to the ground. The merchant froze to the spot where he stood. Nothing could astound him more than this did. One bird had fallen down dead! The merchant continued on to the city and traded his goods. At last he returned to his home. He did not know what to tell his bird when she asked what message he had brought. He stood before her cage and said, “Oh, nothing to speak of no, no.” The bird cried, “I must know at once.” I do not know what happened, said the merchant. “I told them your message. Then, one of them fell down dead.” Suddenly the merchant’s bird let out a terrible shriek and fell on her head to the bottom of the cage. The merchant was horrified. He wept in despair, “Oh, what have I done?” He cried, “What Have I done? Now my life means nothing. My moon has gone and so has my sun. Now my own bird is dead.” He opened the cage door, reached in, and took her into his hands gently and carefully. “I will have to bury her now,” he said; “poor thing is dead.” Suddenly, the moment he had lifted the bird out of the cage, she swooped up, flew out of the window and landed on the nearest roof slope. She turned to him and said, gratefully, “Thank you, merchant master, for delivering my message. That bird’s reply instructed me how to win my freedom. All I had to do was to be dead. I gained my freedom when I chose to die.” “So now I fly to my Beloved who waits for me. Good-bye, good-bye, my master no longer.” “My bird was wise; she taught me secret,” the merchant reflected.

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YOU'RE FAR MORE PRECIOUS THAN DIAMONDS AND PEARLS

“If memory serves me correctly, I was wearing a little white tank top and a short black skirt. I had been raised Orthodox Muslim, so I had never before worn such revealing clothing while in my father’s presence. When we finally arrived, the chauffer escorted my younger sister, Laila, and me up to my father's suite. As usual, he was hiding behind the door waiting to scare us. We exchanged many hugs and kisses as we could possibly give in one day. My father took a good look at us. Then he sat me down on his lap and said something that I will never forget. He looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Hana, everything that God made valuable in the world is covered and hard to get to. Where do you find diamonds? Deep down in the ground covered and protected. Where do you find pearls? Deep down at the bottom of the ocean covered up and protected in a beautiful shell. Where do you find gold? Way down in the mine, covered over with layers and layers of rock. You’ve got to work hard to get to them.” He looked at me with serious eyes. “Your body is sacred. You’re far more precious than diamonds and pearls, and you should be covered too.” Source: More Than A Hero: Muhammad Ali’s Life Lessons Through His Daughter’s Eyes.

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GOD EXISTS

A man went to a barbershop to have his hair and his beard cut as always. He started to have a good conversation with the barber who attended him. They talked about so many things on various subjects. Suddenly, they touched the subject of God. The barber said: “Look man, I don’t believe that God exists as you say so.” “Why do you say that?” Asked the client. Well, it’s so easy; you just have to go out in the street to realize that God does not exist. Oh, tell me, if God existed, would there be so many sick people? Would there be abandoned children? If God existed, there would be neither suffering nor pain. “I can’t think of a God who permits all of these things.” The client stopped for a moment thinking but he didn’t want to respond so as to prevent an argument. The barber finished his job and the client went out of the shop. Just after he left the barbershop, he saw a man in the street with a long hair and beard (it seems that it had been a long time since he had his cut and he looked so untidy). Then the client again entered the barbershop and he said to the barber: “know what? Barbers do not exist.” “How come they don’t exist?” asked the barber. “Well I am here and I am a barber.” “No!” - the client exclaimed. “They don’t exist because if they did there would be no people with long hair and beard like that man who walks in the street.”

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Tell Me a Story : The sacrificial lover

 

There was a young man and a girl working together in a chemical laboratory, and they loved each other very much, so they spent a long time with each other, and one day the young man went to the jewelry store to bring his lover a wedding ring and surprise her with that, but his joy was not complete, on the same day she was testing By using a chemical substance, the substance fell from her and touched her eyes, and when she was transferred to the hospital, the doctors said that she lost her eyes and would be blind, but one of them donated his eyes to her with his desire not to mention his name, so the girl recovered and left the hospital and in the meantime the young man completely disappeared from her life, so she remained looking About him until I discovered that he was in a specific place, so I went with him, and when I approached him, he did not move a finger, and he was wearing glasses and crying in a burning sensation. Looking for him, then they got married and lived a good life

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The story of the old man loyal

One day, an old man went to a doctor’s clinic to untie stitches in his foot after he had an accident. The doctor arrived at his clinic at ten in the morning. The old man said to him: I have an important appointment with my wife in the nursing home at half past ten, so the doctor asked him, why is your wife in the nursing home? He said to him: She does not remember me, she suffers from Alzheimer's disease and cannot remember anything, so she does not live with me, so the doctor asked him: Would you be angry if I was late? The man cried and said: I hope you remember me, but it has not been like that for years, so the doctor was surprised and asked: So why do you visit her when she does not remember you? The old man replied: O son, if she does not remember me, then I still do.

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A story of the soldier and wealthy

A poor young man fell in love with a girl from a wealthy family, and he proposed to her to propose to her, but her family did not agree to the difference in the financial situation. However, the young man insisted to prove himself to her parents, so he worked hard and came again and proved that to her family, so they knew that the young man was serious so they agreed to the engagement, except that marriage  He was postponed because he was a soldier in the army and was forced to move away from and from his country because of the war, and they agreed to return after the war to complete the marriage.  And one day the tragedy occurred;  As the girl was driving her car back home and was hit by a speeding car, the girl’s family rushed to the hospital and the girl got out of a state of danger and when she woke up, she noticed signs of shock and shock on her family, and their silence only continued with crying, so she started to ask groaning and pain and felt her face, and she realized what had happened, and she understood.  Her face was completely distorted, so she burst into tears, and began to say something like: I became ugly, I became a monster, and cried heartily.  The girl caught herself again, and she told her parents that she wanted to end her relationship with the young man because he would not want her while she was deformed, and she made the decision about that and did not want to see him again and began to act accordingly, except that he kept writing to her and calling her on the phone, but she did not answer any of that.  He understood that she wanted to move away from him and leave him, but one day a surprise occurred, so her mother entered her in her room and said to her: He has returned from the war.

 The girl was surprised, and refused to meet him before she knew why he came, so her mother said to her: He came to invite you to his wedding, so she opened the wedding card in astonishment and found that the name of the bride written was her name, and then she started crying in a burning sensation and at that moment the young man entered carrying a bouquet of roses and knelt in front of her and said  : would you marry me?  So the girl covered her face and said to him: I am ugly and hateful, how will you relate to me, so he said to her: When you did not answer, I contacted your mother and saw your picture, but in spite of that nothing changed in my heart for you, because I loved you and not your face.

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Story for Kids "THE JOURNEY OF THE MARMABILL"

The Marmabill has lost her nest! Join her on her brave quest to get it back, as she travels through the rainforest. Along the way she’ll meet fantastical creatures like wugs, key-keys, and even tankadiggies As the adventure takes her from green treetops to a glowing underground cave, the Marmabill must discover for herself the true meaning of home. 

“When a buldabeast steals a marmabill's home, she is forced to venture out to find a new nest. On her journey, the marmabill meets gentle wugs and a helpful tankadiggy, but she also encounters less friendly creatures, like nasty key-keys and cranky fluthers. Follow her through the forest, from the wugs' warm kitchen to the fluthers' dangerous glowing cave. Will the earnest marmabill ever find a place to call home, or will she stumble upon something even more special than a simple nest?

Tiffany Turrill's brilliant, vivid illustrations bring magic to Daniel Errico's charming tale of a diligent marmabill searching for a place to call her own. Both kids and adults with love Errico's silly nonsense rhymes—a great book for parents and children to read together! Join the marmabill's adventure through the rainy forest and meet all sorts of wacky creatures along the way!”

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