Many of you have heard a Cinderella (灰姑娘) story, but you may not know that there are over a hundred different ways to tell the Cinderella story. When writers tell the same story in a different way, it is called their “version” of the story. The story of Cinderella has many different versions. Let's read two of them and find out how they are different.

The version that most people know is the oldest one written in 1697 by Charles Perrault from France. This is the version where the birds help make Cinderella's dress and the mice turn into carriage men (马车夫) and help Cinderella go to the dance in a pumpkin (南瓜) carriage. In this version, many of the animals are Cinderella's friends. They help her meet the Prince. Cinderella marries the Prince and they live happily together ever after.

In another version of this story written in the 1850s by Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm from Germany, the birds help Cinderella in the whole story. Cinderella's father gives her a little tree when he comes back from a party. She plants the little tree and her tears water it until it grows into a tall tree.

The birds now live in the tree and they give Cinderella a dress of gold and shoes of gold. Cinderella goes to the party to meet and dance with the Prince. Later, he finds Cinderella at home doing work for her stepmother (继母). Cinderella marries the Prince and they live happily ever after.

Now you can understand what the word “version” means and how more than one writer can tell a story in a different way. That is why there are many versions of the same story.

    Long ago, a farmer, hard-working, had a wonderful olive orchard(橄榄园). Unluckily, his three sons cared less about his olive orchard. They couldn't wait to be wealthy in a short time.

    When the farmer was old, and felt that his time had come to die, he called the three sons to him and said, "My sons, there is a pot of gold hidden in the olive orchard. Dig for it, if you wish it."

    The sons tried to get him to tell them in what part of the orchard the gold was hidden, but he would tell them nothing more.

    After the farmer was dead, the sons went to work to find the pot of gold. Since they did not know where it was, they agreed to begin in a line at one end of the orchard, and to dig until one of them should find the money.

    They dug until they had turned up the soil from one end of the orchard to the other, round the tree-roots and between them. But no pot of gold was to be found. The three sons were disappointed to have all their work for nothing.

    The next olive season, the olive trees in the orchard bore more fruit than they had ever given. When it was sold, it gave the sons a whole pot of gold.

    And when they saw how much money had come from the orchard, they suddenly understood what the wise father had meant when he said, "There is gold hidden in the orchard. Dig for it, if you wish it."

B

    Last Friday, I agreed to meet some friends at 6：00 p．m. in a coffee shop.The weather was sunny, so I decided to walk there.I arrived ten minutes early.I ordered a cup of coffee and sat watching people.There were some boys playing football on the street, and a small boy was running after the ball as it rolled (滚) across the road.

    Suddenly (突然), there came a car.It was going very fast.When the driver saw the boy in his way, he braked (刹车) hard.But it was too late…The small boy was lying on the street without moving.To everyone's surprise, the car didn't stop.It drove away quickly.

    People ran to the boy.There was a cut on the boy's head and he lost a lot  of blood.The coffee shop owner (主人) telephoned the police.Soon an ambulance (救护车)arrived and took the boy to the hospital.

    At 6：30 p．m., the police arrived and started questioning people.About half an hour later, they asked me to go to the police station because I saw everything.I gave them all the information I knew because I really wanted them to catch the driver.I didn't leave the police station until 8：00 p．m. After that I went home because I didn't feel like talking to anyone.

    The next day, the boy's parents called me to say thanks.They also told me their boy was fine and the driver was in the police station now.

    Many years ago, I was a shy boy and lived a very peaceful life. I liked school but I felt bored.

    And then I started the fourth grade. My teacher, Mrs. Chen, was a young woman who was good at writing, art and music. Her class was very interesting. With her help, I started Fun Club with some boys in my class. I also wrote a book called Through the Forest. And lots of my classmates liked it.

    However, I was surprised when fifty years later I got a letter about a reunion (聚会). A few days later, we had a reunion at Mrs. Chen's home. Reconnecting with Mrs. Chen was a journey back in time. Fifty years have passed, but my teacher still remembers every student. She even doesn't forget the class bully (欺负) — a boy used to hit me with snowballs on my way to school. Lots of teachers thought bullying was nothing serious at that time, but Mrs. Chen didn't agree. She put a stop to it at once when she found out about it.

    Now, in my mid-fifties, I appreciate the gifts Mrs. Chen has given me even more. It's never too late to say thanks to this fantastic teacher. I hope you are lucky enough to have one teacher like Mrs. Chen.

    As my husband, Doug, stood on the busy New York city street trying to stop a taxi, I tried to protect my daughter from the cold December wind and rain. I put my head down to kiss her tiny face.

    Frustrated and1, my husband gave up his try to flag down a taxi. I knew the feeling. Just after her first birthday, we2that our daughter Katie had a rare(罕见的) brain illness. Since that moment, Doug and I felt like runners in a marathon race where the finish line kept disappearing. We knew Katie was running out of3. It had taken months before we finally 4 a name for the illness, but only a few doctors in the world knew 5 to treat it. Now, as we finally found a brilliant doctor to save our girl, we were in a strange6in the cold rain.

    Just at the moment, a middle-aged woman pulled over and said, "Pardon me? May I offer you a ride?"

    7we could say anything, she continued, "It's really no trouble for8. Just get in."

    It was then that I noticed her thick Irish accent(口音), which9 me up like hot soup. We 10said, "Thanks! Roosevelt Hospital, please, "as we got in her car for the ride.

    "Are you going11the baby?" she asked us.

    I nodded my head, holding back my tears.

    At the hospital, we12 her a dozen times for the ride, as the woman hugged me. I noticed her face was wet with tears. She promised to pray for（为……祈祷）us before she left.

    After three more visits to New York and two more13operations，Katie is cured. But the14of the Irish Angel still rang as a reminder of a tiny ray of light that appeared in our15days. We would pray for her just as she did for us.