Some people have a very poor sense of direction. Unluckily, I am one of them. I have visited a place many times but I may still get lost there the next time.

    When I was a little girl, I never dared to ask strangers the way. And so I used to walk around in circles and hope that by chance I would get to the place I was going to.

    Now, I am no longer too shy to ask people for directions, but I often receive useless or ever wrong information. So I try to avoid giving people wrong directions. It anyone asks me the way somewhere, I would say, "Sorry, I am a stranger here."

    Once on my way to work I was stopped by a man. He asked me if I could tell him the way to the Friendship Building. I gave him my usual reply. But just as I walked on only a few steps, I realized that he had asked the way to my office building. However, I had no time to turn back and look for him. I hurried to meet someone at my office and I didn't want to keep him waiting.

    When I just got to my office, the secretary showed in the man who had asked me for directions. Imagine how awkward I was and how surprised he was when we saw each other at the first sight!

    I live in Mentone, a quiet, simple, restful place, where the rich never come. I met Theophile Magnan, a retired, rich, old man from Lyons yesterday. In the Hotel des Anglais. Theophile looked sad and dreamy, and didn't talk with anybody else. Which brought me back to the past.

A long time ago, Francois Millet. Claude, Carl and I were young artists — very young artists — in fact.

    Yes, Francois Millet. The great French artist, was my friend.

Millet wasn't any greater than we were at that time. He didn't have any fame, even in his own village.

    We were all poor though we had stacks and stacks of as good pictures as anybody in Europe painted. Once a person ever offered four francs for Millet's "Angelus", which he intended to sell for eight.

    It was a fact in human history that a great artist would never be acknowledged* until after he was starved and dead. His pictures climbed to high prices after his death.

    Then we made a decision that one of us must die, to save the others and himself.

    Millet was elected to die.

    During the next three months Millet painted with all his might, enlarged his stock all he could, not pictures, not sketches, studies, parts of studies, fragments of studies, of course, with his cipher *  on them.

    They were the things to be sold.

    Carl went to Paris to start the work of building up Millet's name. Claude and I went to sell Millet's small pictures and to build up his name as well.

    We made Millet a master. I always said to my customer, "I am a fool to sell a picture of Francois Millet's at all, for he is not going to live three months, and when he dies his pictures can't be had for love or money."

    Claude and I took care to spread that little fact as far as we could.

Carl made friends with the correspondents, and got Millet's condition reported to England and all over the continent, and America, and everywhere.

    The sad end came at last, Millet died, not really.  He became Theophile Magnan.

    The pictures went up. There's a man in Paris today who owns seventy Millet pictures. He paid us two million francs for them. Do you still remember the "Angelus"? Carl sold it for twenty—two hundred francs. And as for the bushels of sketches and studies which Millet produced in the last six weeks, well, it would astonish you to know the figure we sell them at nowadays.

    We are no longer artists and Millet dead.

    Jane is my good friend. She has a big family.

    Her father is Henry and her mother is Sally. Henry has a sister. Her name is Jessica. Jessica has one son. Henry also has one brother. His name is John. John has one daughter. They are all (都) in the family.

    Jane has no brother, but she has cousins. They are her good friends, too. Who are Tom and Rosa? They are Jane's grandfather and grandmother.

    They are nice to Jane, Oh, a dog is in the family. The dog's name is Cody.

    There are many different kinds of disasters around the world. As an adult you know what to do during a disaster, but what about the children? Some adults think it would probably never happen to them, so they don't teach their children what to do. Before it's too late, here are ways to help you prepare your children for a disaster.

    Educate: It is always good to let your children know about possible disasters. This doesn't mean children have to live in fear. When teaching them about disasters, keep the conversation positive (积极的) by telling them there is a solution (解决办法) to the disaster. Keep the conversations short, allow for questions and answer them honestly.

    Prepare: Always be prepared. And that is the best piece of advice for children. For example, when preparing for bad weather, get the tools you need, like candles, radios, food, water and medicine. Teach your children what is needed in certain disasters so that they know what is available for them, if ever needed.

    Plan: You should always have a plan for you and your children for any dangerous situation. Write out a simple list that they can read. The plan could start with "listen to an adult's advice and/or call 119".

    Practise: Once you have got the correct safety tools and worked out the right plan, practise every few months. Practising what to do during a disaster with your children will help them if the time comes.

    Disasters can't be avoided but they can be lessened once you are prepared and ready for one.

    Phil White has just returned from an 18,000-mile, around-the-world bicycle trip. White had two reasons for making this epic journey. First of all, he wanted to use the trip to raise money for charity, which he did. He raised £70,000 for the British charity, Oxfam. White's second reason for making the trip was to break the world record and become the fastest person to cycle around the world. He is still waiting to find out whether he has broken the record or not.

    White set off from Trafalgar Square, in London, on 19th June, 2004 and was back 299 days later. He spent more than 1,300 hours in the saddle (车座) and destroyed four sets of tyres and three bike chains. He had the adventure of his life crossing Europe first, and then the Middle East, Asia, Australia, New Zealand, and finally the Americas. Amazingly, he did all of this with absolutely no support team. No jeep carrying food, water and medicine. No doctor. Nothing! Just a bike and a very, very long road.

    The journey was lonely and desperate at times. He also had to fight his way across deserts, through jungles and over mountains. He cycled through heavy rains and temperatures of up to 45 degrees, all to help people in need. There were other dangers along the road. In Iran, he was chased by armed robbers and was lucky to get away with the little money he had. The worst thing that had happened to him was having to cycle into a headwind on a road that crosses the south of Australia. For 1,000 kilometers he battled against the wind that was constantly pushing him. This part of the trip was slow, hard and depressing, but he made it in the end. Now Mr. White is back and wants to write a book about his adventures.