Have you ever considered why you begin yawning too when you see someone yawn? Or how hard it is to be among people laughing and not laugh yourself? Well, apparently it's because we have mirror neurons (神经元）in our brains.

    Put simply, the existence of mirror neurons suggests that every time we see someone else do something, our brains imitate it whether or not we actually perform the same action. This explains a great deal about how, we learn to smile, talk, walk, dance or play sports. But the idea goes further: mirror neurons not only appear to explain physical actions, they also tell us that there is a biological basis for the way we understand other people.

    Mirror neurons can undoubtedly be found all over our brains, but especially in the areas which relate to our ability to use languages, and to understand how other people feel. Researchers have found that mirror neurons relate strongly to language. A group of researchers discovered that if they gave people sentences to listen to ( for example: “The hand took hold of the ball” ) , the same mirror neurons were triggered as when the action was actually performed (in this example, actually taking hold of a ball).

    Any problems with mirror neurons may well result in problems with behavior. Much research suggests that people with social and behavioral problems have mirror neurons which are not fully functioning. However, it is not yet known exactly how these discoveries might help find treatments for social disorders.

    Research into mirror neurons seems to provide us with even more information regarding how humans behave and interact. Indeed, it may turn out to be the equivalent (相等物）for neuroscience of what Einstein's theory of relativity was for physics. And the next time you feel the urge to cough in the cinema when someone else does — well, perhaps you'll understand why.

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    One night in March 1999, a man was driving from California to Oregon, US, to visit some friends. He had stopped his car to have some food when he started to hear strange noises. Turning on the headlights, he saw an 8-foot-tall creature covered in thick, dark hair. The creature stared at him for a minute, turned in the road and walked off slowly into the woods.

    In the past 50 years alone, there have been thousands of reported sightings of similar creatures in the US, Canada, the Himalayas(喜马拉雅山地区)and even Hubei Province in China. The creature is known as bigfoot.

    Bigfoot is said to be a very tall(between 2 and 4. 5 metres), ape-like(类人猿似的)creature that is covered in hair and walks upright on two legs. It is very wary(警惕的)of human beings.

    Believers think bigfoot is a direct descendent(后代)of ancient gigantopithecus(巨猿). But it remains one of the planet's undiscovered secrets. There is a little evidence(证据)to support the believers' theory: traces of hair, footprints and body prints as well as the reported sightings. Some people have even showed what they say with photos or films of bigfoot.

    But so far, no one has found bones or any other definite proof that the giant creature exists.

    As a result many people believe the evidence is just part of a big trick.

    The footprints are easy to make and they say: all you need to do is to make two large feet out of plaster(石膏), attach them to the bottom of your shoes and walk with big steps. As for the photos and films, they are just people dressed in ape suits.

    They also say the sightings are not real, just people making mistakes. For example, bigfoot could be a bear living in the wild that sometimes stands up on its back legs.

    Mail lay scattered across the kitchen table. I couldn't put off sorting through it any longer. I checked the envelopes, putting aside the ones addressed to my husband.

    It had been over three years since Bob had died. To friends and family it looked like I had moved past the worst of my sorrow. I took care of my house, socialized and kept up with community. On the outside everything appeared to be normal. But inside I was anything but I worried I would never get better, never be myself again. They say sorrow has no set time limit, but I was so tired of feeling empty and hopeless. My sorrow was sharp and fresh as ever. It was like a wall of pressure in my chest, pressing my heart.

    I picked up a piece of Bob's mail and held it out to tear in half, but stopped myself from cutting up the envelope. The letter was from an organization that funded a Haitian orphanage called My Father's House. Its founder, Carol Hawthorne, had given a presentation at our church. Bob and I had donated, and Bob ended up on the mailing list to receive the newsletter (通讯) with updates on the children.

    I hadn't read one since Bob died. But just three months before, in January 2012, the country had been hit by a terrible earthquake. In my depressed state, it hadn't even occurred to me to wonder whether the orphanage had survived. I opened the newsletter and was surprised to find out that My Father's House was still standing. Of course now it was more crowded than ever. At the bottom of the page was an announcement about an upcoming trip to visit the orphanage in person. “I should go.” The thought wouldn't leave me. I contacted Carol Hawthorne.“What would I do if I go?” I asked.“Build houses?”

    “The Haitian people there are eager to work and they know what they're doing,” said Carol. “What they need are raw materials, and we provide them. We also visit with the children. We go to clinics and schools, pass out supplies. You'll be very busy, I promise!” I reserved a seat but didn't mention it to any of my friends. Just a few weeks later, I was at the airport with seven strangers, waiting to board a plane to Haiti. Even after takeoff I wasn't really sure of what I was doing.

    In Haiti we were met by Pastor Ronald Lefranc, the director of My Father's House. We piled into an old school bus and drove over uneven roads full of stones and mud. We passed women shaking under the weight of huge water buckets balanced on their heads. Piles of rubbish scattered across the landscape, and the land was covered with broken tents. Finally we pulled up to the orphanage. A crowd of children—52 in all—rushed up to greet us. I couldn't understand the words of the song they sang in Creole, but with the smiles on their faces I didn't need to. Each child planted a big kiss on my cheek.

    Carol and Pastor Ronald led us into the main building. “What are those over there?” I asked, pointing to a collection of thin tents. “Is there not enough room in the building for all the children?”

    “We have the room,” said Pastor Ronald. “But many of these children came here after the earthquake. They still don't feel safe sleeping under a roof.”

    There was no sign of fear in the playroom inside. I played dolls and other games. Children I'd just met presented me with pictures they'd drawn and letters written in Creole. In the evening the children gathered in the dining room. They took turns reading aloud and then they all joined in song. The words were strange, but the tune sounded familiar.

    They'd lost so much, yet were so joyful. In the evening the children gathered in the dining room. One of the older children stood up to speak and then they all joined in song. The words were strange, but the tune sounded familiar. The children settled down. In the silence, a quiet noise began.

    Every day millions of letters go from one country to another. Letters mailed in Italy are received in Japan. Letters mailed in Canada are received in Africa. On the letters there are many different kinds of stamps, bought in different countries.

    The Universal Postal Union helps each letter get to the right place as quickly as possible. It sets up rules about the size and weight of letters, postcards, and small packages. It has rules that all countries must follow about international postal rates.

    On hundred years ago international mail did not move so smoothly. One country did not always accept another country's letters. Letters from some countries were too large to fit into the mailboxes of other countries. Letters traveled by many different routes. Some were lost along the way.

    Sometimes the person who sent the letter could pay only part of the postage. The person receiving the letter had to pay the rest.

The World's Largest Insect

    This giant insect can be used as a toy.

    A child ties one end of a string to a stick and the other end around the "neck" of an insect. Holding the stick, the child lets the insect go. With a loud whirring sound, the insect takes off, pulling the string in a large curve over the child's head. The child laughs as the stick jumps around.

    The child is African, and the toy is the African Goliath beetle, the largest insect in the world.

    The Goliath is a true insect because it has six legs and a body that is divided into three parts. Like all beetles, it has two pairs of wings. The front pair are thick and stiff and protect the back pair, which are soft. It is these soft back wings that make the beetle fly forward. They also cause the loud whirring sound the beetle makes when it flies. To steer, the beetle twists and turns its legs the same way you steer a bike by turning its front wheel.

    African children often use the Goliath beetle as a toy. Although it is over 15 centimeters long, it is quite harmless.

    Many people criticize today's newspapers as sensationalist, satisfying the public's abnormal curiosity. But journalism a century ago was just as notorious (臭名昭著). Publishers at that time routinely competed with each other for wild stories that could draw in the most readers. Meanwhile, it was an ideal atmosphere for a courageous reporter like Nellie Bly to spring into fame.

    Bly, whose name was Elizabeth Corcoran, had to work to make her way in the world. Different from many women of the time, however, she refused to let the working world scare her away. Her first big opportunity as a reporter came in 1885 after she wrote an angry letter denouncing the Pittsburgh Dispatch for an article it had run criticizing women forced to work outside the home. The interested and excited editor hired Bly for her "spirit," and soon she was investigating the situations of female factory workers. Bly cared less about their jobs than their lives after work  - their amusements, their motivations, their fears and ambitions. She produced an article totally different from what other reporters of the time were writing: personal, thoughtful, meaningful.

    By 1887 Bly had a job with the New York World, one of the leader papers of the day. She quickly became famous for undercover stories about women in a mental hospital. Soon she had investigated life as a maid, a chorus girl, and even a street girl. In her best - known brave deeds, in 1890, Bly beat the famous "around the world in 80 days" trip Jules Verne had described in his novel. Traveling by steamship, train, even ricksha, Bly reported from each stop. A spellbound nation hung on every word. Only 25, Bly had become internationally famous.