Read the passage that gabriel wrote for his narrative essay. once we arrived at the local pool, i looked around to see who else was there. normally, i would have found the kids frolicking and splashing in the water hilarious, but not today. they were cute, but the fact that they were half my age and swimming around like so many ducks just made me feel worse. “you nervous? ” my mom asked. i swallowed the lump in my throat. “not really,” i mumbled, trying to hide my shaking hands in my pockets. i don’t think i fooled my mom, but she didn’t comment on the fact that i looked a little green. instead, she tried to encourage me, saying, “well, i think it’s really impressive that you’re going to confront your fear of water and learn to swim.” what is the most likely reason gabriel chose to write his essay with this point of view?

In this excerpt from "quality" by john galsworthy, which two parts clearly indicate the literary point of view of the essay? that tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the royal family—merely his own german name of gessler brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. i remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. had he bought them to put there? that, too, seemed inconceivable. he would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. besides, they were too beautiful—the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one's mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvellous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the soul of boot—so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. these thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when i was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. for to make boots—such boots as he made—seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.