There is an old tree by the stream. In the old tree, there lived a pair of friends who forgot the past year, a little cricket and an old snail. Little crickets live under the roots and old snails live on the trunk.

This little cricket is very small. He was born from the soil this spring, and this summer is in its prime. He is a natural musician, romantic and affectionate. Although his singing skills are still immature, everyone is looking forward to his wonderful singing when chasing me in autumn. He likes to chat with the old snail in the tree, about today's weather, about the smell of grass, and sometimes he is curious about the experience of the old snail. The little cricket regards the old snail as his elder.

This old snail is very old. He was a resident of the old tree when he was a sapling. From spring to autumn, he chewed leaves, tasted fresh and juicy to crisp, then closed his door and spent winter after winter in a beautiful dream. He is so lucky that there won't be a second snail in the world who lives as long as he does, so long that he is numb in the cycle of the four seasons. He also likes to chat with the little crickets under the tree. The vitality of little cricket will let him see his childhood shadow. At that time, he also liked to dream that he had wings to fly and that he had traveled all over the world.

However, two neighbors are always tired of communication. The old snail doesn't have good legs and feet, and he doesn't want to get off the tree. The little cricket can't jump to such a high treetop, so every time he talks, two friends always shout at the top of their voices, otherwise they can't hear anything clearly. "Why use the phone?" The old tree once asked them.

"Humans have no telephone lines in the mountains and no human money." A well-informed stream, pointing out the key points with a more realistic eye.

"Just do it, make do with it." The two friends are also very helpless.

As the summer heat gradually recedes, the old snail can already detect the omen of autumn coolness. He was suddenly sad, because he knew that the life of the little cricket was coming to an end, and ordinary crickets could not survive the cold winter except those who were kept in captivity for the winter. Little cricket didn't know this. He was still looking forward to the beauty of winter snow, but he didn't know that the seemingly beautiful whiteness was the color of the shroud that death gave him. Finally one day, the old snail couldn't help telling the little cricket a cruel fact that he couldn't survive this winter.

The little cricket was silent that day and didn't talk to the old snail for three days. The old snail was worried that he was desperate and was regretting his glib tongue, but the old tree told the old snail that the little cricket had gone out and he didn't know where he had gone.

When the cricket got home, it was already a week later. When he came back, he sat on the bird with a seed in his mouth. The bird said that this seed is Petunia, which she brought back from the mountain. Animal friends outside the mountain can plant it in the soil and produce trumpet-shaped flowers. They use this flower instead of telephone.

"You said I couldn't survive the winter, so I would die in late autumn." The little cricket smiled and said to the old snail, "But before I die, I still have many songs to sing." I don't sing loudly, so you can't hear me clearly without a phone, so I plant morning glory, and when it blooms, you can hear me sing. "

"Maybe it will be too late to wait for it to blossom. I heard the footsteps of autumn wind, and flowers rarely grow in autumn. " The old snail sighed.

"Try it," said the cricket, burying the seeds in the soil. "I hope that with my singing, you will sleep better in winter."

Time flies, the vines of morning glory slowly climb around the old tree, bearing spindle-shaped flowers and bones. Finally, in the early morning with white fog, the old snail was awakened by a sweet and crisp song, and was surprised to see a purple flower in front of him, round like a trumpet, from which the song came.

At the end of the song, the cricket's voice came along the morning glory: "What do you think? Am I a good singer? "

"Ah, it's beautiful." The old snail smiled.

This autumn, the old snail woke up in the song of the little cricket, preparing for winter and going to bed. He has begun to prepare to seal his door, but he has been slow to start, just wanting to listen to songs for a few more days. He heard the cricket's voice getting deeper and deeper, sometimes a little hoarse. He knew that it was because his good friend was getting weaker and weaker, so he felt melancholy when listening to happy songs.

One night, the little cricket sang the last good night song as usual, but didn't say "good night" "cricket?" The old snail called him tentatively.

"... good night. "It was a long time before the morning glory sent a hoarse greeting. The old snail just fell asleep.

The old snail slept very lightly, but the next morning he was not awakened by the song. On this day, in the next few days, he could no longer hear the familiar song, but the weather was getting colder and colder, so he had to seal the mouth of the snail shell.

At the last moment in front of the door, he gently asked the old tree, "Is the cricket gone?"

The old tree said nothing, and the old snail closed the door with a sigh. The old tree shook its branches, and the golden leaves fell, covering up the body of the little cricket under the morning glory leaves.

This winter, without the cricket's singing, it was the most stable year for the old snail to sleep, because in his dream, there was still the crisp and pleasant singing of crickets.

A promise,

2、

One morning, the bird went for a walk by the stream. The air in the morning is really good. Soon, the birds will be intoxicated with this wonderful morning ... the rushing stream echoes in the birds' ears like beautiful music. "Help! Help! " A cry for help broke the beautiful music. The bird followed the sound and saw a little cricket washed away by the stream! Seeing this, the bird made a decisive decision, immediately flew forward and grabbed the little cricket. After landing, the cricket thanked the bird for saving his life, but the bird said, "It doesn't matter, as long as you lend a helping hand to someone in need next time, it is the best thanks to me!" " "Cricket nodded.

As soon as I got home, the tired cricket fell asleep in bed. Late at night, it began to rain heavily outside. Raindrops the size of beans hit the glass and woke the sleeping crickets. Cricket immediately ran out of bed and closed the door. As a result, the cricket was stunned by what he saw. A snail lay on the muddy road and looked dying. The cricket suddenly remembered the bird's words, so he bravely stepped forward and decided to take it to the morning glory hospital. .....................................................................................................................................................