假设你是红星中学高三学生李华，请根据以下四幅图的先后顺序，写一篇英文周记，记述你们上周接待外国学生，带领他们体验中国茶文化的全过程．

注意：词数不少于60．

In 1812， the year Charles Dickens was born， there were 66 novels published in Britain． People had been writing novels for a century﹣most experts date the first novel to Robinson Crusoe in 1719﹣ but nobody wanted to do it professionally． The steam﹣powered printing press was still in its early stages； the literacy（识字）rate in England was under 50%． Many works of fiction appeared without the names of the authors， often with something like "By a lady．" Novels， for the most part，were looked upon as silly， immoral or just plain bad．

    In 1870， when Dickens died， the world mourned him as its first professional writer and publisher， famous and beloved， who had led an explosion in both the publication of novels and their readership and whose characters﹣from Oliver Twist to Tiny Tim﹣were held up as moral touchstones． Today Dickens' greatness is unchallenged． Removing him from the pantheon （名人堂）of English literature would make about as much sense as the Louvre selling off the Mona Lisa．

    How did Dickens get to the top？ For all the feelings readers attach to stories， literature is a numbers game， and the test of time is extremely difficult to pass． Some 60，000 novels were published during the Victorian age， from 1837 to 1901； today a casual reader might be able to name a half﹣dozen of them． It's partly true that Dickens' style of writing attracted audiences from all walks of life． It's partly that his writings rode a wave of social， political and scientific progress．But it's also that he rewrote the culture of literature and put himself al the center． No one will ever know what mix of talent， ambition， energy and luck made Dickens such a distinguished writer． But as the 200th anniversary of his birth approaches， it is possible﹣and important for our own culture﹣to understand how he made himself a lasting one．

阅读下面短文，根据所给情节进行续写，使之构成一个完整的故事．

It was summer， and my dad wanted to treat me to a vacation like never before． He decided to take me on a trip to the Wild West．

    We took a plane to Albuquerque， a big city in the state of New Mexico． We reached Albuquerque in the late afternoon． Uncle Paul， my dad's friend， picked us up from the airport and drove us up to his farm in Pecos．

    His wife Tina cooked us a delicious dinner and we got to know his sons Ryan and Kyle． My dad and I spent the night in the guestroom of the farm house listening to the frogs and water rolling down the river nearby． Very early in the morning， Uncle Paul woke us up to have breakfast． "The day starts at dawn on my farm，" he said． After breakfast， I went to help Aunt Tina feed the chickens，while my dad went with Uncle Paul to take the sheep out to graze（吃草）． I was impressed to see my dad and Uncle Paul riding horses． They looked really cool．

    In the afternoon， I asked Uncle Paul if I could take a horse ride， and he said yes， as long as my dad went with me． I wasn't going to take a horse ride by myself anyway． So， my dad and I put on our new cowboy hats， got on our horses， and headed slowly towards the mountains．"Don't be late for supper，" Uncle Paul cried， "and keep to the track so that you don't get lost!" "Ok!"my dad cried back． After a while Unele Paul and his farm house were out of sight． It was so peaceful and quiet anl the colors of the brown rocks， the deep green pine trees， and the late afternoon sun mixed to create a magic scene． It looked like a beautiful woven（编织的） blanket spread out upon the ground just for us．

注意：

1．所续写短文的词数应为150左右；

2．至少使用5个短文中标有下划线的关键词语；

3．续写部分分为两段，每段的开头语已为你写好；

4．续写完成后，请用下划线标出你所使用的关键词语．

       Suddenly a little rabbit jumped out in front of my horse．_____

        We had no idea where we were and it got dark．_____

Two weeks earlier, my son, Ben, had got in touch. He’d moved to England with his mum when he was three and it had been 13 years since I’d   (1)    seen him. So imagine my  (2)    when he emailed me saying he wanted to come to visit me.

I was  (3)   ! I arrived early at Byron Bay where we were supposed to  (4)    . The bay was   (5)    in sunshine, and there was a group of kayakers around 150m off the shore. Getting a little  (6)   , I realized one kayak (皮划艇) was in  (7)   . “Something’s not   (8)   !” I took off my T-shirt and   (9)    into the water. I saw there were two instructors on board and a man lying across the middle. He was   (10)    violently. Linking arms with one of the instructors, I helped   (11)   the young man out of the water. He was unconscious and as I looked at his face, something   (12)    to me. Those brown eyes were very  (13)   . “What’s his name?” I asked the instructor. “Ben,” he replied, and immediately I  (14)   . That stranger was my son!

The instructors called for an ambulance.   (15)   , after a brief stay in hospital, Ben was well enough to be allowed to   (16)    and later the family met up for dinner. We chatted about everything and then Ben   (17)   to me. “I just want to say thank you,” he said. “You  (18)    my life!”

I still can’t believe what a   (19)    it was. I’m just so glad I was there   (20)    to help my son.

Adults understand what if feels like to be flooded with objects． Why do we often assume that more is more when it comes to kids and their belongings？ The good news is that I can help my own kids learn earlier than I did how to live more with less．

    I found the pre﹣holidays a good time to encourage young children to donate less﹣used things， and it worked． Because of our efforts， our daughter Georgia did decide to donate a large bag of toys to a little girl whose mother was unable to pay for her holiday due to illness．  She chose to sell a few larger objects that were less often used when we promised to put the money into her school fund （基金）（our kindergarten is serious about becoming a doctor）

    For weeks， I've been thinking of bigger， deeper questions． How do we make it a habit for them？ And how do we train ourselves to help them live with， need， and use less？ Yesterday， I sat with my son， Shepherd， determined to test my own theory on this． I decided to play with him with only one toy for as long as it would keep his interest． I expected that one toy would keep his attention for about five minutes， ten minutes， max． I chose a red rubber ball﹣simple， universally available． We passed it， he tried to put it in his mouth， he tried bouncing it， rolling it， sitting on it， throwing it． It was totally， completely enough for him． Before I knew it an hour had passed and it was time to move on to lunch．

    We both became absorbed in the simplicity of playing together． He had my full attention and I had his． My little experiment to find joy in a single object worked for both of us．

Raynor Winn and her husband Moth became homeless due to their wrong investment. Their savings had been  (1)   to pay lawyers’ fees. To make matters worse, Moth was diagnosed（诊断）with a   (2)   disease. There was no   (3)  , only pain relief.

Failing to find any other way out, they decided to make a   (4)  journey, as they caught sight of an old hikers’(徒步旅行者）guide.

This was a long journey of unaccustomed hardship and   (5)   recovery. When leaving home, Raynor and Moth had just ￡320 in the bank. They planned to keep the  (6)   low by living on boiled noodles, with the  (7)   hamburger shop treat.

Wild camping is   (8)   in England. To avoid being caught, the Winns had to get their tent up  (9)  and packed it away early in the morning. The Winns soon discovered that daily hiking in their 50s is a lot   (10)   than they remember it was in their 20s. Raynor  (11)   all over and desired a bath. Moth, meanwhile, after an initial   (12)  , found his symptoms were strangely  (13)   by their daily tiring journey.

  (14)  , the couple found that their bodies turned for the better, with re-found strong muscles that they thought had  (15)   forever. "Our hair was fried and falling out, nails broken, clothes  (16)  to a thread, but we were alive."

During the journey, Raynor began a career as a nature writer. She writes, "  (17)   had taken every material thing from me and left me torn bare, an empty page at the end of a(n)   (18)   written book. It had also given me a  (19)  , either to leave that page   (20)   or to keep writing the story with hope. I chose hope.”

My First Marathon（马拉松）

    A month before my first marathon， one of my ankles was injured and this meant not running for two weeks， leaving me only two weeks to train． Yet， I was determined to go ahead．

    I remember back to my 7th year in school． In my first P．E． class， the teacher required us to run laps and then hit a softball． I didn't do either well． He later informed me that I was" not athletic"．

    The idea that I was "not athletic" stuck with me for years． When I started running in my 30s，I realized running was a battle against myself， not about competition or whether or not I was athletic． It was all about the battle against my own body and mind． A test of wills!

    The night before my marathon， I dreamt that I couldn't even find the finish line． I woke up sweating and nervous， but ready to prove something to myself．

    Shortly after crossing the start line， my shoe laces （鞋带）became untied． So I stopped to readjust． Not the start I wanted！

    At mile 3， I passed a sign：" GO FOR IT， RUNNERS!"

    By mile 17， I became out of breath and the once injured ankle hurt badly． Despite the pain， I stayed the course walking a bit and then running again．

    By mile 21， I was starving！

    As I approached mile 23， I could see my wife waving a sign． She is my biggest fan． She never minded the alarm clock sounding at 4 a．m． or questioned my expenses on running．

    I was one of the final runners to finish． But I finished! And I got a medal． In fact， I got the same medal as the one that the guy who came in first place had．

    Determined to be myself， move forward， free of shame and worldly labels（世俗标签）， I can now call myself a "marathon winner"．

We have all heard how time is more valuable than money， but is it   (1)  to have too much time？

    I   (2)  back in high school I spent most of my day at school since I also   (3)  a team sport． By the time I got home， I only had a few hours to do my homework， and I had to do it  (4)  ．

    When I got into college， things  (5)  ．  I suddenly found myself out of class before noon time． Because of all this   (6)  time， there was no sense of   (7)   to do my school work immediately． I was performing this action of waiting until it later became a   (8)  ． Once that happened， I just kept  (9)  my studying further and further back in my day． Then I got to the point where I was   (10)  really late at night to get my work done．

    One day I  (11)  a former classmate of mine who was   (12)  _a lot of money running a sideline （副业）． Since his regular job was   (13)  ， I asked him why he just didn't do his sideline full﹣time． He said without the job， he would   (14)  have too much time and would just do what I did back in  (15)  ． He said that if he   (16)  the job， he would lose his   (17)  to work and succeed．

    So， try   (18)   your time with other work． This is why there is a  (19)  that if you want something done， ask a   (20)  person to do it．

When I was 17， I read a magazine article about a museum called the McNay， once the home of a watercolorist named Marian McNay． She had requested the community to turn it into a museum upon her death． On a sunny Saturday， Sally and I drove over to the museum． She asked， "Do you have the address？ ""No， but I'll recognize it， there was a picture in the magazine．

    "Oh， stop． There it is！"

    The museum was free． We entered， excited． A group of people sitting in the hall stopped talking and stared at us．

    "May I help you？" a man asked． "No， "I said． "we're fine．" Tour guides got on my nerves． What if they talked a long time about a painting you weren't that interested in？ Sally had gone upstairs． The people in the hall seemed very nosy（爱窥探的）， keeping their eyes on me with curiosity． What was their problem？ I saw some nice sculptures in one room． Suddenly I sensed a man standing behind me． "Where do you think you are？" he asked． I turned sharply． "The McNay Art Museum！" He smiled， shaking his head． "Sorry， the McNay is on New Braunfels Street． ""what's this place？" I asked， still confused． "Well， it' s our home．"My heart jolted（震颤），I raced to the staircase and called out，" Sally! Come down immediately!

    "There' s some really good stuff（艺术作品） up there．" She stepped down， looking confused． I pushed her toward the front door， waving at the family， saying， "Sorry， please forgive us， you have a really nice place． "Outside， when I told Sally what happened， she covered her mouth， laughing． She couldn't believe how long they let us look around without saying anything．

    The real McNay was splendid， but we felt nervous the whole time we were there． Van Gogh， Picasso． This time， we stayed together， in case anything else unusual happened．

    Thirty years later， a woman approached me in a public place． "Excuse me， did you ever enter a residence， long ago， thinking it was the McNay Museum？"

    "Yes． But how do you know？ We never told anyone．"

    "That was my home． I was a teenager sitting in the hall． Before you came over， I never realized what a beautiful place I lived in． I never felt lucky before． You thought it was a museum． My feelings about my home changed after that． I've always wanted to thank you．"

“Is it good？”I asked her．

“Yeah，”she answered．“There’s one I really like and you’ll like it，too．”I leaned forward．

“‘Patty Poem，’”she read the title．Who is Patty？I wondered．The poem began：

She never puts her toys away，

Just leaves them scattered①where they lay，…①散乱的

The poem was just three short sections．The final one came quickly：

When she grows and gathers poise②，②稳重

I’ll miss her harum﹣scarum③noise，③莽撞的

And look in vain④for scattered toys．④徒劳地

And I’ll be sad．

A terrible sorrow washed over me．Whoever Patty was，she was a mean girl．Then，the shock．

“It’s you，honey，”My mother said sadly．

To my mother，the poem revealed a parent’s affection when her child grows up and leaves．To me，the “she” in the poem was horror．It was my mama who would be sad．It was so terrible I burst out crying．

“What’s wrong？”my mother asked．

“Oh Mama，”I cried．“I don’t want to grow up ever!”

She smiled．“Honey，it’s okay．You’re not growing up anytime soon．And when you do，I’ll still love you，okay？”

“Okay，”I was still weeping．My panic has gone．But I could not help thinking about that silly poem．After what seemed like a safe amount of time，I read the poem again and was confused．It all fit so well together，like a puzzle．The language was simple，so simple I could plainly understand its meaning，yet it was still beautiful．I was now fascinated by the idea of poetry，words that had the power to make or break a person’s world．

I have since fallen in love with other poems，but “Patty Poem” remains my poem．After all，“Patty Poem” gave me my love for poetry not because it was the poem that lifted my spirits，but because it was the one that hurt me the most．