An anti-hero is the rival or enemy of the protagonist.

A、Filial piety is the root of Ren

B、To hold love and respect for parents and brothers is the practice of Ren.

C、To have love for parents or respect for elder brothers are essence of Ren

D、Surely proper behaviour towards parents and brothers is the trunk of goodness

The cowboy is the hero of many movies. He is, even today, a symbol of courage and adventure. But what was the life of the cowboy really like?

The cowboy' s job is clear from the word cowboy. Cowboys were men who took care of cows and other cattle. The cattle were in the West and in Texas. People in the cities of the East wanted beef from these cattle. Trains could take the cattle east. But first the cattle had to get to the trains. Part of the cowboy' s job was to take the cattle hundreds of miles to the railroad towns.

The trips were called cattle drives. A cattle drive usually took several months. Cowboys rode for sixteen hours a day. Because they rode so much, each cowboy brought along about eight horses. A cowboy changed horses several times each day.

The cowboys had to make sure that cattle arrived safely. Before starting on a drive, the cowboys branded the cattle. They burned a mark on the cattle to show who they belonged to. But these marks didn't stop rustlers, or cattle thieves. Cowboys had to protect the cattle from rustlers. Rustlers made the dangerous trip even more dangerous.

Even though their work was very difficult and dangerous, cowboys did not earn much money. They were paid badly. Yet cowboys liked their way of life. They lived in a wild and open country. They lived a life of adventure and freedom.

A cowboy is a symbol of______.

A．courage and adventure

B．a hard life and big pay

C．movies in the past

D．cows and other cattle

Task 2

Directions: This task is the same as Task 1. The 5 questions or unfinished statements are numbered 41 through 45.

One of the most successful singers of the twentieth century, Ella Fitzgerald has made several different styles of her own. She was born in Virginia but was brought up in an orphanage in Yonkers, New York. Chick Webb spotted her in an amateur competition when she was sixteen. He engaged her to sing with his bands, and when he died in 1939, she took over.

Unlike Bessie Smith, Ella Fitzgerald taught herself the sentimental music so popular .in the 1930's—songs like "My Heart Belong to Daddy'—and her recording became bestsellers. During the 1940's she developed her own "scat singing"—a breathless, nonsensesyllable style—for songs like "Flying Home" and "Lady Be Good".

Ella Fitzgerald was the perfect musical partner for her friend, the trumpeter Louis Armstrong, matching him in warmth and artistry, "I just like music," she has said. "To me, it's a story. There's only one thing better than singing. It's more singing".

Where did Fitzgerald spend most of her childhood?

A．Virginia.

B．Yonkers.

C．Louis Armstrong.

D．Louisiana.

The Woman Taxi Driver In Cairo

  Her name is Nagat.

  I first saw her outside Cairo's airport terminal. A woman taxi driver -- the only woman, for that matter, among a large crowd of her male counterparts.

  Do you know what it is like to arrive in a strange city in the middle of the night? Nobody, not even a ray of sunshine is here to greet you. When I walk out of the terminal, I am facing the crowd of taxi drivers milling about in front of every airport the world over. Here in Cairo, it is large and noisy. "Taxi!" "You want taxi?" I hear all round me.

  I feel a firm hand holding my left arm. "You want taxi, follow me," the woman says. She doesn't ask, she simply pulls me through the crowd. I follow her willingly. There is this moment when a tourist, particularly a woman, simply has to trust someone. We stop at a worn car. It has seen a better day, there are quite a few scrapes on its body, the tires are bald and there is a crack in the windshield. But it is a car for hire, and the woman will personally drive me. I breathe a sigh of relief when she puts my bag into the trunk, locks it and gets behind the wheel. "I will drive you. don't worry," she says.

  Nagat, as she now explains to me, works as a taxi driver several days and nights a week. She has another job, working in an office, but details of it remain vague. The little old ear is not hers; it belongs to a boss from whom she in turn rents it whenever she can. She has been a driver ever since her husband died some ten years earlier and left her with two teenage kids and her parents to support.

  She knows every nook and cranny in and around Cairo -- no easy feat. Cairo with its complex system of streets and lanes, its quarters and markets is like a labyrinth invented by ancient storytellers. Hundreds of mosques -- many of which are masterpieces of Islamic architecture, old neighborhoods with houses boxed together, huge apartment buildings on the outskirts and the Nile calmly running through it; all are part of this overcrowded city.

  With a mild sense of humor around a deep core of understanding of human nature, Nagat takes control of my sightseeing schedule. Every morning punctually at nine o'clock, I can depend on seeing her short, solid frame outside the hotel lobby, her round face turning into a big smile as soon as she sees me coming down the stairs. Most every day, she wears an earth tone-colored Jellaba. Her movements are energetic and she doesn't waste any time. Her determined approach seems to have grown on a bed of economy, on the necessity to get as much done as she possibly can.

  What becomes clear to me soon as she drives me from museum to pyramid, from one part of town to the opposite, is this: she is a true exception here. Wherever we stop, be it for a cup of tea during a break or upon arriving at a historical site where her male colleagues gather in the parking area everywhere, she is being noticed. Men walk up to her in the car with questioning faces. As she tells me, they all have one question first of all: "Are you a taxi driver?" She then explains in a few short sentences, and I see the men's faces soften, smile and respectfully and kindly chat with her. This scene repeats itself over and over again. I get the sense that she invites goodwill from the people she meets.

  Nagat is proud and independent. One day, as I find her waiting outside a museum, she is just taking a spare tire out of the trunk of the taxi. One of the bald tires had finally gone flat, and she was going to change it herself. Several curious people gather around her and she receives offers of help -- but no, she wants no part of that. In her efficient, deliberate manner, she changes the tire, and having done so, washes her hands with bottled water, gets in the taxi and asks "Where to now?"

  Should you find yourself at Cairo's airport, look for Nagat outside the international arrival hall. If you are lucky, you will have a chance to see Cairo through the eyes of a woman taxi driver.