Chase Poust is a 7-year-old boy. He and his dad Steven, as well as his 4-year-old sister, Abigail were out for a family boating trip on Florida’s St. Johns River near Mandarin Point. Chase and Abigail were swimming at the back end of the anchored (停泊的) boat while Steven was on deck fishing.

It was a pleasant outing—until a strong wave came. It was too strong for Abigail to hold onto the boat. Instantly realizing his sister would be swept away, Chase let go of the boat as well to try and reach her.

Steven jumped into the water but after realizing he couldn’t keep up with both kids, he was faced with a hard decision, “I told them loved them because I wasn’t sure what’s going to happen,” Steven told News-4 JAX. “I tried to stick with both of them. I wore myself out. She drifted away from me.”

Directing Chase lo swim to shore for help, Steven stayed behind, keeping as close as he could to Abigail as the life-vest that was keeping her above the waves floated further and further from his reach.

It was a tough go for the 7-year-old but rather than attempting to swim all out, Chase wisely paced himself. Stopping to float or dog paddle when he was tired, he’d rest and then set off again. It took Chase an hour to reach the shore. Once on solid ground, he ran to the nearest house and called for help.

Rescuers arrived soon to search for Steven and Abigail. Miraculously, the two were found and rescued about an hour later—more than a mild away from the family’s abandoned boat.

At Mrs. Jennings’ handsome house, in London.

While waiting for dinner, Marianne Dashwood wrote a letter very quickly. Elinor Dashwood noticed a large “W” in the address. Marianne rang the bell to have someone post it immediately.

After dinner, there was a loud knock at the door. Marianne cried, “Oh, it’s Willoughby!” and seemed to throw herself into his arms when Colonel Brandon came in. She was so surprised that she immediately left the room.

Elinor made the tea for Colonel Brandon. He did not stay long.

The next morning, upon arriving at home after shopping, Marianne flew upstairs.

“No letter has been left here for me since we went out. How strange!” she said, in a low and disappointed voice.

About a week later, they saw Mr. Willoughby’s card on the table when they came in from morning’s drive. He had been there while the ladies were out.

“He will call again tomorrow,” said Elinor.

Marianne decided to stay behind the next morning, when the others went out. One look at her sister when they returned was enough to tell Elinor that Willoughby had not called.

Colonel Brandon came again to tea and had short private conversation with Elinor.

“Your sister’s engagement to Mr. Willoughby is very well known.”

“It cannot be well known,” returned Elinor, “for her own family does not know it.”

“I am sorry but I did not realize it was a secret. I came to ask, is everything decided? Is it possible to? Excuse me, Miss Dasnwood. I believe I have been wrong in saying so much.”

From these words Elinor was sure of something, yet she knew he could never be successful with her.

Over the next three or four days, Willoughby neither came nor wrote.

One evening at a party, Marianne suddenly saw Willoughby standing in deep conversation with a young woman, whose name was Grey, a rich lady.

“He is there! Oh! Why does he not look at me? Why can’t I speak to him?”

“Marianne,” said Elinor, “perhaps he hasn’t seen you yet.”

At last he came to them.

“Willoughby, what’s wrong? Did you not get my letters? Won’t you look at me?”

After a moment’s pause, he spoke. “I came by last Tuesday but unfortunately did not see you. My card was not lost, I hope.”

“Have you not received my notes?” cried Marianne. “Tell me, Willoughby; tell me, what’s the matter?”

Quiet and embarrassed, he said nothing more and turned quickly away to Miss Grey. Marianne, turning white and unable to stand, fell into her chair.

Alarmed by a tragic(悲剧的) shooting in his hometown, a New Orleans musician gives hope to kids-for a song.

Allen was sleeping at home one evening last July when he was frightened awake by a TV news item. There had been a shooting among a group of children in the 7th Ward of New Orleans, only a few miles from Alen's home, and a nine-yearold boy named Bryant had been killed. Allen was horrified and heartbroken. He thought of his own nine-year-old son.

After seeing the tragic news that morning, it didn't take long for Allen to hit on a possible solution.He is one of the most famous jazz trumpeters(小号手) in the city, and he had a few spare trumpets lying around. Maybe he could offer them to kids in exchange for their guns.

“What saved me and redirected my path was a trumpet and the music of the city that it connected me with" Allen says. "t showed me that success can be managed through self-expression.”

Allen named the program My Trumpet Is My Weapon.“Just to see that they actually want to give up their guns, that's the cool part about it," says Allen, who has collected seven guns so far, a small but important start.

But he doesnt stop with the exchange of gun for instrument(乐器).After the exchanges, Allen connects the children with local musicians who give them free virtual (虚拟的) trumpet lessons. He also started a GoundMe page to buy more instruments to give away. So far, he has collected over $45,000. More importantly, he has brought hope to his city and young people looking for a better life.

“Music may not be the way for you, but it will at least open your mind to see what's out there," says Allen.