The Gift of Growth: A Century of Influence on American Students by McGuffey Readers

Author: (American) McGuffey
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-12-01
Features: A Treasure of Filial Piety
A jeweler once had many excellent qualities. One day, several elderly Jews came to him, wanting to buy some gems to on the robes of their highest-ranking priests. They described the gems they wanted and offered a reasonable price, but the jeweler said he couldn’t show them the gems immediately and asked them to come back later. The old men didn’t want to waste any more time. They thought the jeweler might be deliberately doing this to raise the price, so they offered double the price, then triple it, but the jeweler still refused. The old men had no choice but to leave angrily. Several hours later, the jeweler found them and placed the gems before them. They offered the highest price they had just given, but the jeweler said, “I only want the price you offered this morning.” The old men were puzzled, “Why didn’t you make a deal with us then?” The jeweler replied, “At that time, my father took the key to the gem cabinet, and he was sleeping when you came. If I had shown you the gems, I would have had to wake him.” “Sleeping for an hour at his age is very beneficial. So even if I had all the money in the world, I would have to consider my father first. I couldn’t disturb his rest.” The old men were moved by his words. They gently patted the jeweler’s head and said, “Love your parents. One day, your children will love and respect you as you love and respect your father. The Lord will bless you.”
Moral of the Story
Parents are the support and of our hearts. On rainy days, they are the umbrella over our heads, and when we are sad, they are the handkerchief that wipes away our tears. We should be grateful to our parents and always remember to care for them. Love is priceless, and filial piety is also priceless. The world becomes complete with sincerity. But how many of us can truly do as the jeweler did?
Bathing in Nature
On a bright morning at the end of March, little Magsie put on her hat and wrapped a gingham shawl around herself as she walked toward the beach. This was her first time going out alone. She was still a little girl, except for her round, gray eyes that had watched over several springs and summers. The distant sea and sky were shrouded in a thin mist, and the clouds around the sun were edged with golden borders of pink and purple. Magsie felt warm in her heart as a gentle breeze fluttered her shawl. She looked at the sparkling water under the sun. Everything amazed her because the sun seemed to have never been so huge today, like a golden flower without a stem, stretching straight to the bottom of the sea, and no one knew where its roots were planted. Magsie didn’t continue to puzzle over this question because the tide was now rising. The waves grew larger, laughing as they surged onto the beach, crashed against the pebbles, blinked, whispered softly, tangled together, like thousands of little children rushing home to tell their families their little secrets. Where did the waves come from? Beneath the azure horizon,