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Thứ Hai, 10 tháng 8, 2015

Love of home

                                                                                             Author is unknown

            Everyone loves his home. He loves it whether the home is large or small, old or new. It is frequently the place where he was born, where for years his parents lived and near which reside his relatives and friends. In a sense, it is the place of all others that really seems to belong to him.

            Out of the Atlantic ocean, far from any coast, there is a small island which you would think a very poor place to live. You would not like to spend one night there. Storms often sweep over it. Clouds hang about it and shut out the sunshine for weeks at a time. There are no trees; so the people build little houses of rough stones and hide from the storms or the hot sun in these huts. They cannot keep grain, because the many rates eat it up at once. They live on fish almost all the time. So few ships pass that the people rarely see anything of the rest of the world. If a steamer passes, they jump into their boats and the row out to it. They just wish to see some other people, to learn something of the big world, or to get something to eat. Most of the time they spend their lives doing things that you would call very uninteresting.

When a certain government learned of the condition of these people, it offered to move them to some other part of the world and to help them get a new start in life. But, strange as it may seem, none of them wanted to leave! This poor island was their home. They had built humble little huts, and learned to live the hard life and they wanted to live and die there.