A minister was on a long flight from China to London. The first warning of the approaching problems came when the sign on the airplane flashed on: Fasten your seat belts. Then, after a while, a calm voice said, "We shall not be serving the drinks at this time as there is going to be something unexpected. Please be sure seat belt is fastened."

    Soon the storm broke out. One moment the airplane was lifted on terrific currents of air. The plane dropped as if it were about to crash.

    The minister believed that he shared the discomfort and fear of those around him. As he looked around the plane, he could see that nearly all the passengers were upset and alarmed. The future seemed ominous and many were wondering if they would make it through the storm. Then he suddenly saw a little girl. Apparently the storm meant nothing to her. She was reading a book and everything within her small world was calm orderly. Sometimes she closed her eyes and then she would read again. Then she would straighten her legs, worry and fear were not in her world. The minister could hardly believe his eyes.

    It was not surprising therefore that when the plane finally reached its destination and all the passengers hurried to leave, the minister walked up to the girl he had watched for such a long time. Having commented about the storm and the behavior of the plane, he asked why she had not been afraid. The girl replied, "Because my dad is the pilot, and he's taking me home."

    Exhibitions in the British Museum

    Hokusai: beyond the Great Wave

    Katsushika Hokusai (1760-1849) is widely regarded as one of Japan's most famous and influential artists.He produced works of astonishing quality right up until his death at the age of 90.This new exhibition will lead you on an artistic journey through the last 30 years of Hokusai's life—a time when he produced some of his most memorable masterpieces.

    25 May—13 August 2017

    Room 35

    Adults￡12,Members/under 16s free

    Places of the mind: British watercolour landscapes 1850-1950

    Drawn from the British Museum's rich collection,this is the first exhibition devoted to landscape drawings and watercolours by British artists in the Victorian and modern eras—two halves of very different centuries.

    23 February—27 August 2017

    Room 90

    Free, just drop in

    Scythians: warriors of ancient Siberia

    This major exhibition explores the story of the Scythians—nomadic tribes and masters of mounted warfare, who flourished between 900 and 200 BC. Their encounters with the Greeks, Assyrians and Persians were written into history but for centuries all trace of their culture was lost—buried beneath the ice.

    14 September 2017—14 January 2018

    Room 30

    Adults￡16.50,Members/under 16s free

    Politics and paradise: Indian popular prints from the Moscatelli Gift

    This display is part of the Museum's contribution to the India-UK Year of Culture 2017.It looks at the popular print culture of India from the 1880s until the 1950s.

    19 July—3 September 2017

    Room 90a

    Free,just drop in

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    I remember meeting him one evening with his pushcart. I had managed to sell all my papers and was coming home in the snow. It was that strange hour in downtown New York when the workers were pouring homeward in the twilight. I marched among thousands of tired men and women whom the factory whistles had unyoked. They flowed in rivers through the clothing factory districts, then down along the avenues to the East Side.

    I met my father near Cooper Union. I recognized him, a hunched, frozen figure in an old overcoat standing by a banana cart. He looked so lonely, the tears came to my eyes. Then he saw me, and his face lit with his sad, beautiful smile-Charlie Chaplin's smile.

    "Arch, it's Mikey," he said. "So you have sold your papers! Come and eat a banana."

    He offered me one. I refused it. I felt it crucial that my father sell his bananas, not give them away. He thought I was shy, and coaxed and joked with me, and made me eat the banana. It smelled of wet straw and snow.

    "You haven't sold many bananas today, pop, "I said anxiously.

    He shrugged his shoulders.

    "What can I do No one seems to want them."

    It was true. The work crowds pushed home morosely（愁眉苦脸的）over the pavements. The rusty sky darkened over New York buildings, the tall street lamps were lit, innumerable trucks, street cars and elevated trains clattered by. Nobody and nothing in the great city stopped for my father's bananas.

    "I ought to yell," said my father dolefully. "I ought to make a big noise like other peddlers, but it makes my throat sore. Anyway, I'm ashamed of yelling, it makes me feel like a fool. "

    I had eaten one of his bananas. My sick conscience told me that I ought to pay for it somehow. I must remain here and help my father.

    "I'll yell for you, pop," I volunteered.

    "Arch, no," he said," go home; you have worked enough today. Just tell momma I'll be late. "

    But I yelled and yelled. My father, standing by, spoke occasional words of praise, and said I was a wonderful yeller. Nobody else paid attention. The workers drifted past us wearily, endlessly; a defeated army wrapped in dreams of home. Elevated trains crashed; the Cooper Union clock burned above us; the sky grew black, the wind poured, the slush burned through our shoes. There were thousands of strange, silent figures pouring over the sidewalks in snow. None of them stopped to buy bananas. I yelled and yelled, nobody listened.

    My father tried to stop me at last." Nu," he said smiling to console me," that was wonderful yelling, Mikey. But it's plain we are unlucky today! Let's go home."

    I was frantic, and almost in tears. I insisted on keeping up my desperate yells. But at last my father persuaded me to leave with him.