One day after school Mr. Tillman found Philo Farnsworth making drawings on the blackboard in the school-room.
“What are you doing?” Mr. Tillman asked with interest. “ What are these drawings?”

“I want to invent things,” Philo answered, “and these are drawings of my first inventions.”
Mr. Tillman smiled to himself, “What is your invention?”
“I have an idea for a way of sending pictures through the air,” The boy answered. “Please just let me tell you about it. You are the only person who can understand what I have done.”
In 1922, even radio was new. The United States had fewer than 30 radio stations. But in 1922, a boy of 16 showed his teacher drawings for television!
In 1926, Philo worked as an office boy in Salt Lake City. Many important businessmen came into the office where he worked. One of these, George Everson , was from San Francisco. Like Mr. Tillman, Everson soon became interested in Philo. The shy, hard-working boy was like other office boys who Everson had known.
One evening Everson asked Philo to have dinner with him. After the meal, Philo began talking about his idea for Television. At first, Everson was not much interested in the invention. He listened only to be polite.
Many years later, Everson wrote a book telling about that evening with Philo. “As Farnsworth talked, he seemed to change,” Everson wrote, “His eyes lighted up , and he was no longer shy.” Talking freely about his invention, Philo Farnsworth was no longer an office boy--he was a scientist.
At the end of the evening, Everson was more interested than ever in Philo. And he was also interested in Philo's idea for television.
After talking with Philo , Everson returned to San Francisco. There he brought together a number of important businessmen . Philo told them about his invention. The men became so interested in the young inventor that they gave $25,000 to help him work on his idea. Philo was only 20 years old, but here was his chance.

       Once upon a time there was a man in a small town. He had two children, a boy and a girl. The boy was good-looking but the girl was not.

      One day they found a mirror (镜子) for the first time and they saw what they looked like. The boy was very happy and he said to his sister, “How handsome I am! I look much nicer than you!”

      The girl did not like what her brother said and gave him a hard push (推). “Go away!” she said.

      Their father saw what was happening. He went up to them and said to the boy, “You must always BE good as well as LOOK good.”

      Then to the girl he said, “My dear, if you help everyone and do your best to make him happy, everyone will love you. It does not matter that you are not as good-looking as your brother.”

Pablo Picasso was born in Spain in 1881. His father was a painter and art teacher who gave his son the first lesson in drawing. He won a prize — “Science and Charity” for his first important painting when he was only fifteen. He studied in several cities in Spain. But there was no one to teach him all that he wanted to know. When he was nineteen, he visited Paris.

Paris was then the center of the world for artists. Everything that was new and exciting in the world of paintings seemed to happen there. When he was twenty-three, Picasso moved there to live and lived in France for the rest of his life.

    When he was over ninety, this great painter still lived his life like a young man. He was still looking for new ideas and new ways to use his artistic materials.

    When he died in 1973, he was ninety-one years old.

    Mr. and Mrs. Su don't often go out in the evening, but today they go out for a walk after supper. They go to the park and have a good time there. On their way home, Mrs. Su says to Mr. Su, "Look! A woman is running in the street and a man is running after（追赶）her." Mr. Su says, " What's the matter? Let's go and help her."

    Now the woman gets near them. Mr. Su asks, "Shall we help you?" "No, thank you," the woman says, "My husband and I are running home, and the slower (较慢的) one does the housework."

    I entered St Thoma's Hospital as a medical student at the age of 18 and spent five years there. I was an unsatisfactory student, for my heart, as you might have guessed, was not in it. I wanted, I had always wanted to be a writer, and in the evening, after my high tea, I wrote and read. Before long, I wrote a novel, called "Liza of Lambeth", which I sent to a publisher and was accepted. It appeared during my last year at the hospital and had something of a success. It was of course an accident, but naturally I did not know that. I felt I could afford to give up medicine and make writing my profession; so, three days after I graduated from the school of medicine, I set out for Spain to write another book. Looking back now and knowing as I do the terrible difficulties of making a living by writing, I realize I was taking a fearful risk. It never even occurred to me.

    The next ten years were very hard, and I earned an average of £100 a year. Then I had a bit of luck. The manager of the Court Theatre put on a play that failed; the next play he arranged to put on was not ready, and he was at his wits' end. He read a play of mine and, though he did not much like it, he thought it might just run for the six weeks till the play he had in mind to follow it with could be produced. It ran for fifteen months. Within a short while I had four plays running in London at the same time. Nothing of the kind had ever happened before. I was the talk of the town. One of the students at St Thomas's Hospital asked the famous surgeon with whom I had worked whether he remembered me. "Yes, I remember him quite well," he said. "One of our failures, I'm afraid."