The Chinese invented paper in 105 A. D. They mixed the bark of a tree and rags (破布) with water, put a screen into the mixture, and lifted out a thin piece of wet paper. They dried the paper in the sun.

    The Chinese kept their secret of how to make paper until a war with Muslims in the ninth century. The art of papermaking soon spread throughout the Muslim world.

    The Mayan Indians in Central America and Pacific Islanders also discovered how to make paper, but their knowledge never spread to the rest of the world.

    For centuries, all paper was made by hand. Rags were the main material. Then a French scientist discovered that people could make paper from wood, too. Finally, in the eighteenth century. a Frenchman invented a machine to make paper from wood.

    Some years ago, writing in my diary used to be a usual activity. I would return from school and spend the expected half hour recording the day's events, feelings, and impressions in my little blue diary. I did not really need to express my emotions by way of words, but I gained a certain satisfaction from seeing my experiences forever recorded on paper. After all, isn't accumulating memories a way of preserving the past?

    When I was thirteen years old, I went on a long journey on foot in a great valley, well-equipped with pens, a diary, and a camera. During the trip, I was busy recording every incident, name and place I came across. I felt proud to be spending my time productively, dutifully preserving for future generations a detailed description of my travels. On my last night there, I wandered out of my tent, diary in hand. The sky was clear and lit by the glare of the moon, and the walls of the valley looked threatening behind their screen of shadows. I automatically took out my pen…

    At that point, I understood that nothing I wrote could ever match or replace the few seconds I allowed myself to experience the dramatic beauty of the valley. All I remembered of the previous few days were the dull characterizations I had set down in my diary.

    Now, I only write in my diary when I need to write down a special thought or feeling. I still love to record ideas and quotations that strike me in books, or observations that are particularly meaningful. I take pictures, but not very often—only of objects I find really beautiful. I'm no longer blindly satisfied with having something to remember when I grow old. I realize that life will simply pass me by if I stay behind the camera, busy preserving the present so as to live it in the future.

    I don't want to wake up one day and have nothing but a pile of pictures and notes. Maybe I won't have as many exact representations of people and places； maybe I'll forget certain facts, but at least the experiences will always remain inside me. I don't live to make memories—I just live, and the memories form themselves.

    Riding School:

    You can start horse—riding at any age. Choose private or group lessons any weekday between 9:00 a.m. and 8:30 p.m.(3:30 p.m. on Saturdays). There are 10 kilometers of tracks and paths for leisurely rides across farmland and open country. You will need a riding hat.

    Opening Hours: Monday through Friday: 9:00 a.m.—8:30 p.m.

    Phone: (412)396—6754  Fax:（412）396—6752

    Sailing Club:

    Our Young Sailor's Course leads to the Stage 1 Sailing qualification. You'll learn how to sail safely and the course also covers sailing theory and first aid. Have fun with other course member, afterwards in the clubroom. There are 10 weekly two-hour lessons(Tuesdays 6:00 p.m.—8:00 p.m.).

    Opening Hours: Tuesdays: 6:00 p. m.—8:00 p.m.

    Phone: (412)396—6644 Fax: (412)396—6644

    Diving Centre:

    Our experienced instructors offer one-month courses in deep-sea diving for beginners. There are two evening lessons a week, in which you learn to breathe underwater and use the equipment safely. You only need swimming suits and a towel. Reduced rates for couples.

    Opening Hours: Monday and Friday: 6:30 p.m.—8:30 p m.

    After I mastered my first concerto (协奏曲) at the age of 14, my parents decided to get me a nice violin. I tried out dozens of instruments before I found my match: a German violin. It was beautiful, but what I liked best about it was its voice. Confident and strong, it was everything I longed to be.

    I'm not sure how much that violin cost, but my parents made me promise never to let it out of my sight. They didn't understand that pulling a large violin case ran counter to my daily middle school task of not being noticed. I was a strange, absent-minded kid. When I spoke up in class, my comments brought confused silence from teachers and wild laughter from students. Like a deer in a wolf pack, I tried to be quiet and still.

    However, my new violin was almost shockingly loud. Together, we were much louder than the rest of my middle school orchestra—which was encouraged, since the other kids made sounds like cats' crying. For one wonderful hour every day, I was showered with attention. Everyone wanted to hear what I had to say.

    Between classes, I bent under the combined weight of my violin case and a backpack filled with books. My body suffered, but my confidence grew. With my violin by my side, I found my voice. More and more, I contributed to class discussions and even made a couple of friends.

    Today, I'm just an excellent violinist with a regular day job. As I sit in my community orchestra, sometimes I feel jealous (嫉妒的) of my fellow musicians' instruments with their elegant voices. I may not be the best violinist around, but at least I'm still the loudest.

    In early November of 1942, my geology (地质学)class was supposed to go on a field trip to see the mica mine (云母矿). Although it rained, everyone showed up on time. I was the only girl in the class. We all fit into two cars.

    Near Deary, Mr. Tier, our teacher, went into a store to ask about the direction, while townsmen looked at us with curiosity. On the store owner's advice, we drove out into the hills for a few miles. Then we left the cars. We were afraid they would get stuck in the mud.

    Eventually, we located the mine near the top of the mountain. There was a very small hole, running about two or three hundred feet into the mountainside. The passage (通道) was so narrow that we could touch both sides with our hands, and not tall enough to allow us to stand up straight. The first boy held the torch; we took hold of the backs of each other's coats, in a line, and followed him in, ducking our heads. After getting in, we were disappointed because it was not the mine our teacher was looking for.

    The rain was coming down hard as we started back to the cars to go home. Back at Deary, we went into a drugstore and stood around its big heating stove to dry out. The clerk was a middle­aged lady. Seeing our entirely wet hair and clothes, she handed each of us a cup of hot water immediately and asked if there was anything wrong with any of us.

    Hiking eight miles in the rain had not reduced our interest at all. We all felt we had had a wonderful time, even if we didn't find the mine.

    A 3-year-old boy who was lost in the woods for two days is now safe at home with his family. But Casey Hathaway told his rescuers that he was not alone in the rainy, freezing cold woods. He said he was with a friend — a bear.

    The child went missing on January 22. He was playing with friends at his grandmother's house in the southern state of North Carolina. When the other children returned home but Casey did not, the family searched the area for almost an hour before calling the police. Police formed a search and rescue team to look for the young boy in the nearby woods. But two days went by and still — no Casey.

    Then on January 24, someone called the police saying he heard a child crying in the woods. Police followed up on the information and found Casey at about 9:30 that night. They pulled him out of some briar. He was in good health. Casey told the rescuers that he had hung out with a black bear for two days, a bear he called his "friend".

    Sheriff Chip Hughes spoke with reporters from several news agencies. He said Casey did not say how he was able to survive in the woods for three days in the cold, rainy weather. However, the sheriff said, "He did say he had a friend in the woods that was a bear that was with him."

    Hundreds of people helped in the search and rescue efforts, including some 600 volunteers, federal police and members of the military. Officer Hughes told reporters that at no point did he think Casey had been kidnapped.

    His mother Brittany Hathaway talked with reporters from a local news agency and thanked everyone who joined the search for her son. "We just want to tell everybody that we're very thankful that you took the time out to search for Casey and prayed for him, and he's good," said his mother. "He is good, he is up and talking. He's already asked to watch Netflix. So, he's good …"