John Blanchard stood up from the bench, straightened his Army uniform, and studied the crowd of people making their way through Grand Central Station. He looked for the girl whose heart he knew, but whose face he didn't, the girl with the rose.

    His interest in her had begun thirteen months before in a Florida library. Taking a book off the shelf he found himself intrigued, not with the words of the book, but with the notes penciled in the margin. The soft handwriting reflected a thoughtful soul and insightful mind. In the front of the book, he discovered the previous owner's name, Miss Hollis Maynell. With time and effort he located her address. She lived in New York City. He wrote her a letter introducing himself and inviting her to correspond. The next day he was shipped overseas for service in World War II.

    During the next year and one month the two grew to know each other through the mail. Each letter was a seed falling on a fertile heart. A romance was starting Blanchard requested a photograph, but she refused. She felt that if he really cared, it wouldn't matter what she looked like.

    When the day finally came for him to return from Europe, they scheduled their first meeting —7:00 PM at the Grand Central Station in New York. “You'll recognize me,” she wrote, “by the red rose I'll be wearing on my lapel.” So at 7:00 he was in the station looking for a girl whose heart he loved, but whose face he'd never seen.

    I'll let Mr. Blanchard tell you what happened: A young woman was coming toward me, her figure long and slim. Her blonde hair lay back in curls from her delicate ears; her eyes were blue as flowers. Her lips and chin had a gentle firmness, and in her pale green suit she was like springtime come alive. I stared at her, entirely forgetting to notice that she was not wearing a rose. As I moved, a small, attractive smile curved her lips. “Going my way sailor?” she murmured.

    Almost uncontrollably I made one step closer to her, and then I saw Hollis Maynell. She was standing almost directly behind the girl. A woman well past 40, she had graying hair tucked under a worn hat. She was more than plump, her thick-ankled feet thrust into low-heeled shoes. The girl in the green suit was walking quickly away. I felt as though I was split in two, so keen was my desire to follow her, and yet so deep was my longing for the woman whose spirit had truly companioned me and upheld my own.

    And there she stood. Her pale, plump face was gentle and sensible, her gray eyes had a warm and kindly twinkle. I did not hesitate. My fingers gripped the small worn blue leather copy of the book that was to identify(识别)me to her.

    This would not be love, but it would be something precious, something perhaps even better than love, a friendship for which I had been and must ever be grateful. I squared my shoulders and saluted and held out the book to the woman, even though while I spoke I felt choked（哽咽）by the bitterness （痛苦）of my disappointment. "I'm Lieutenant （中尉）John Blanchard, and you must be Miss Maynell. I am so glad you could meet me; may I take you to dinner?"

    The woman's face broadened into a tolerant smile. "I don't know what this is about, son," she answered, "but the young lady in the green suit who just went by, she begged me to wear this rose on my coat. And she said if you were to ask me out to dinner, I should go and tell you that she is waiting for you in the big restaurant across the street. She said it was some kind of test!"

    It's not difficult to understand and admire Miss Maynell's wisdom. The true nature of a heart is seen in its response to the unattractive. "Tell me whom you love," Houssaye wrote, "And I will tell you who you are."

    Have you ever run into a careless cell phone user on the street? Perhaps they were busy talking, texting or checking updates on WeChat without looking at what was going on around them. As the number of this new “species” of human has kept rising, they have been given a new name—phubbers（低头族）.

    Recently, a cartoon created by students from China Central Academy of Fine Arts put this group of people under the spotlight. In the short film, phubbers with various social identities(身份) bury themselves in their phones. A doctor plays with his cell phone while letting his patient die, a pretty woman takes selfie in front of a car accident site, and a father loses his child without knowing about it while using his mobile phone. A chain of similar events eventually leads to the destruction of the world.

    Although the ending sounds overstated, the damage phubbing can bring is real.

    Your health is the first to bear the effect and result of it. “Constantly bending your head to check your cell phone could damage your neck,” Guangming Daily quoted doctors as saying. “the neck is like a rope that breaks after long-term stretching.” Also, staring at cell phones for long periods of time will damage your eyesight gradually, according to the report.

    But that's not all. Being a phubber could also damage your social skills and drive you away from your friends and family. At reunions with family or friends, many people tend to stick to their cell phones while others are chatting happily with each other and this creates a strange atmosphere, Qilu Evening News reported.

    It can also cost you your life. There have been lots of reports on phubbers who fell to their death, suffered accidents, and were robbed of their cell phones in broad daylight.

    It had been some time since Jack had seen the old man. College, career, and life itself got in the way. In fact, Jack moved clear across the country in pursuit of his dreams. There, in the rush of his busy life, Jack had little time to think about the past and often no time to spend with his wife and son. He was working on his future, and nothing could stop him.

    Over the phone, his mother told him, “Mr. Belser died last night. The funeral is Wednesday.” Memories flashed through his mind like an old newsreel as he sat quietly remembering his childhood days.

    “Jack, did you hear me?”

    “Oh, sorry, Mom. Yes, I heard you. It's been so long since I thought of him. I'm sorry, but I honestly thought he died years ago.” Jack said.

    “Well, he didn't forget you. Every time I saw him he'd ask how you were doing. He'd reminisce (回忆) about the many days you spent over 'his side of the fence' as he put it.” Mom told him.

    “I loved that old house he lived in.” Jack said.

    “You know, Jack, after your father died, Mr. Belser stepped in to make sure you had a man's influence in your life.” she said.

    “He's the one who taught me carpentry. I wouldn't be in this business if it weren't for him. He spent a lot of time teaching me things he thought were important… Mom, I'll be there for the funeral.” Jack said.

    Busy as he was, he kept his word. Jack caught the next flight to his hometown. Mr. Belser's funeral was small and uneventful. He had no children of his own, and most of his relatives had passed away.

    The night before he had to return home, Jack and his Mom stopped by to see the old house next door one more time, which was exactly as he remembered. Every step held memories. Every picture, every piece of furniture… Jack stopped suddenly.

    “What's wrong, Jack?” his Mom asked.

    “The box is gone.” he said.

    “What box?” Mom asked.

    “There was a small gold box that he kept locked on top of his desk. I must have asked him a thousand times what was inside. All he'd ever tell me was 'the thing I value most'.” Jack said.

    It was gone. Everything about the house was exactly how Jack remembered it, except for the box. He figured someone from the Belser family had taken it.

    “Now, I'll never know what was so valuable to him,” Jack said sadly.

    Returning to his office the next day, he found a package on his desk. The return address caught his attention.

    “Mr. Harold Belser” it read.

    Jack tore open the package. There inside was the gold box and an envelope. Jack's hands shook as he read the note inside.

    “Upon my death, please forward this box and its contents to Jack Bennett. It's the thing I valued most in my life.” A small key was taped to the letter. His heart racing, and tears filling his eyes, Jack carefully unlocked the box. There inside he found a beautiful gold pocket watch. Running his fingers slowly over the fine cover, he opened it.

    Inside he found these words carved: “Jack, Thanks for your time! Harold Belser.”

    “Oh, My God! This is the thing he valued most…” Jack held the watch for a few minutes, then called his assistant and cleared his appointments for the next two days.

    “Why?” his assistant asked.

    “I need some time to spend with my son.” he said.

    Al was a skilled artist. One night, his older son developed a serious stomachache. Neither Al nor his wife took the condition seriously. But it was actually acute appendicitis (急性阑尾炎), and the boy died suddenly that night.

    Knowing the death could have been prevented if he had realized the seriousness of the situation, Al's emotional health became worse. Worse still, his wife left him a short time later, leaving him alone with his six-year-old younger son. The hurt and pain of the two situations were more than Al could handle, and he turned to alcohol (酒) to avoid the pain. Gradually Al became an alcoholic (酒鬼) and began to lose everything he had. Finally, Al died alone in a San Francisco motel room.

    When I heard of Al's death, I felt sorry for him. “What a complete failure!” I thought. “What a totally wasted life!”

    As time went by, I began to rethink my earlier judgment. I knew Al's son, Ernie, one of the kindest and most caring men I have ever known. I watched Ernie with his children and saw the free flow of love between them. I knew that kindness and caring had long come from somewhere.

    One day I worked up my courage to ask him. “I'm really puzzled by something,” I said. “I know your father was basically the only one to raise you. What did he do so that you became such a special person?”

    Ernie sat quietly and thought for a few moments. Then he said, “From my earliest memories as a child until I left home at 18, Al came into my room every night, gave me a kiss and said, 'I love you, son.'”

    What a fool I had been to judge Al as a failure. He had not left any material possessions (财产) behind. But he had been a kind loving father, and he left behind one of the finest, most giving men I have ever known.

    The end of the school year is in sight — Christmas cards, candy canes and of course, end of year reports.

    While most parents welcome an assessment of their kids' performance, they do not expect their own input to be evaluated. But a school in the UK is changing that. As well as assessing their students, they are dishing out grades to mums and dads. Parents that are really involved in their kid's education are rewarded with an A, and parents that haven't done their bit get a disappointing D.

    The school, Greasley Beauvale Primary in Nottinghamshire, uses criteria such as whether mums and dads have attended school events such as plays and parent-teacher conferences to decide on the grade. The school's principal, Donna Chambers, said that the scheme (方案)had been well received.

    “There were some critics, but my response was 'well, it can't do any harm'. Between 15 percent and 20 percent of parents started out in the lower categories but now that has been reduced to just two percent,” she explained.

    Chambers hopes that the scheme will help motivate parental involvement. “The system is important because you have got to get the parents on board from day one. That one hour initial conversation saying they could improve will pay dividends for the rest of that child's academic life”, she said.

    But while the scheme may be well-intentioned, it is likely to be connected with parent shaming. There are lots of reasons why some mums and dads might not be involved in school activities such as work commitments, looking after younger children or caring for elderly relatives.

    And of course, being involved in your kid's education doesn't begin and end at school. There is a lot that goes on behind the scenes from helping with homework to keeping uniforms freshly laundered. And what about all the parents who stayed up sewing special costumes at the last minute? Surely that earns a gold star instead of a grade!

The ancient Herculaneum scrolls (卷轴)are thought to contain works of important thinkers in ancient Greece. But the scrolls can't be unrolled (打开). Even a light wind threatens to reduce them to dust. The reason is that they were turned into carbon by a natural disaster in A.D. 79.

But now researchers from the University of Kentucky have found a way to look inside the scrolls without having to touch them. They first create a light that is 10 billion times brighter than the sun by taking advantage of a machine. Then they will use the light to go through the Herculaneum scrolls to study and finally read the words recorded on the scrolls. Researchers think it might take them six months to read the scrolls.

This isn't the first time researchers have tried to read the Herculaneum scrolls. Several years ago, scientists from the European Synchrotron Radiation Facility (ESRF) worked on uncovering the mystery using an X-ray beam 100 billion times brighter than anything used in a hospital, This didn't allow scientists to actually read the scrolls, but it allowed them to make one surprising discovery. The scrolls were written in metallic (金属的) ink, a writing technology that scientists didn't know existed at the time the scrolls were penned.

"For a long time, we thought our studies have let us know everything about the ancient ink used to write on scrolls. Now we find it's not the case. This shows that we should tell ourselves it may not be true when thinking we fully know something once some research is done," said Daniel Delattre, one of the study's authors.

The finding wasn't just a historical curiosity. To learn just how special these scrolls are, consider that the thinker Chrysippus in ancient Greece is said to have written over 700 works; but all are lost, with the exception of a few works found in the Herculaneum scrolls. In other words, it's possible that these scrolls represent the only existing complete works left by this great thinker. And who knows what other great works could exist in the scrolls?