It was a rainy night in New Orleans, US. At a bus station, I watched a young girl cry as her baggage(行李) was taken down. It seemed she'd lost her ticket. She begged the bus driver not to leave her behind.

     “Losing your ticket is like losing your money,” the bus driver said, and left her in the rain.

But then an old man stood up and blocked the driver's way. “How can you leave that girl out there? You know she had a ticket. You can't just leave her here. You can't leave her in a city where she doesn't have a friend. You will meet your schedule, but she might meet her end.”

      The driver showed no sign that he'd heard or even cared about the young girl's problem, or how her travels went.

    So the old gentleman said, “I'll pay for her fare. I'll give her a little money to help her on her way.”

    He went and bought the ticket for the girl. “How can I repay the kindness you've shown tonight?” She asked. “We're strangers who won't meet again. A mere 'thank you' doesn't seem right.”

    The old man said, "What goes around comes around. I've learned this with time. Whatever you give, you always get back. Always be helpful to others and give what you can spare.”

    “Please take my penny,” said Maggie to old Dan, the fisherman, who sat on a bench repairing his nets.

    Her brother Andrew drew her back, whispering, “Maggie, he is not a beggar (乞丐)!”

    But Maggie paid no attention. “Please take it,” she said again. Old Dan smiled, and took it. “Thank you, little miss,” he said, “It is kindly meant.”

    After that, Maggie went to the beach to gather shells. She never thought how fast the hours were passing until being tired. She sat down on a rock. Soon she was scared because the sea water was going up. She wanted to go home, but she found the places she had gone down easily very difficult to climb up. The stones were wet and smooth. What could poor Maggie do? She felt sad and cried.

    Luckily, Dan's large dog Rover jumped down from a rock! Rover raised his loud bark. The fisherman had taken his nets to the top of the cliffs (悬崖), and was laying them out in the sun when he heard the loud barking of a dog. He felt sure that it was Rover, and Rover was in trouble, so he looked over. There he saw it all.

    “Bless her! It is the little one that was so kind-spoken to me this morning!” he cried, and he hurried to his sons' rooms.

    “Quick, boys, quick!” he said. “Get to the boat, and row fast to the sea. There is a poor child there just waiting to be helped.” The fishermen lost no time, and soon little Maggie and Rover were rowed safely to land! Old Dan was waiting there to lift her out to give her into her mother's arms.

    “It was the penny that did it, madam,” he said to Mrs. Weston later. “I saw Rover looking at her when she put the penny. And I am thinking he had been looking after her all the day.”

    Some years later, Rover came to Maggie's home with a little note, in which was written—“Will Maggie help Rover?—his master is dead.”

    On a sunny day of September, I sat with my friend in a well­known coffee shop in a neighboring town. As we enjoyed our coffee, a young man wearing glasses entered and sat at an empty table beside us. He called the waiter and placed his order, saying, “Two cups of coffee, one of them there on the wall.” We heard this order with rather interest and found that he was served with only one cup of coffee but he paid for two. When he left, the waiter put a piece of paper on the wall, saying “A Cup of Coffee”．

    While we were still there, two other middle­aged men entered and ordered three cups of coffee, two on the table and one on the wall. They had two cups of coffee but paid for three and left. This time also, the waiter did the same. He put a piece of paper on the wall saying, “A Cup of Coffee.” It was something special and perplexing for us. We finished our coffee, paid the bill and left.

    After a few days, we had a chance to go to this coffee shop again. While we were enjoying our coffee, a poorly­dressed man arrived at the shop. As he seated himself, he looked at the wall and said, “One cup of coffee from the wall.” The waiter served coffee to this man as usual. The man had his coffee and left without paying.

    We were amazed to watch all this, as the waiter took off a piece of paper from the wall and threw it into the dustbin. Now it was no surprise for us — what was happening was very clear. The great respect for the men in need shown by the residents(居民) of this town made our eyes in tears.

    It is a fine Sunday morning. Ann and her mother are on a big bus. There are many people on it. Some of them come from America, and some come from England and Canada. They are going to the Great Wall.

    There are only two Chinese on the bus. One is the woman. She is driving the bus. The other is a young man. He is their guide and can speak English very well. Now he is talking with an American girl. Other people are listening to them. They are very interested in the Great Wall. They want to see it very much.

    July is the time for some students to say goodbye to their mother schools. Every time it comes, I will think of my old deskmate, Xiaowei. She is the most unforgettable classmate in my junior high school life. It has been many years since I graduated, but she is still in my mind clearly.

    Xiaowei was a lovely girl with long black hair. On hot days, her hair was sometimes seen to be tied up. She was always wearing a sweet smile. She was an artistic(文艺范的)girl who showed up before me every day. She loved reading novels and drawing.

    She liked reading different kinds of novels, especially on history. She could finish reading a historical novel as thick as our Chinese textbook at an amazing speed.

    Whenever she had free time, she would take out a drawing note and start drawing cartoons with a pencil. She drew from characters' heads to eyes and to faces, but the characters were always long-haired and wide-eyed. One day I couldn't help asking," Why don't you colour them?" She answered simply, "Because I don't have enough time." She kept her works as a secret and never talked about them with others. When we were told that she had won a prize in the drawing competition in her group, my classmates felt surprised.

    There is a folk song called My Old Deskmate, which is sung widely among people of different ages. It was created because the creator, Gao Xiaosong, had never forgotten his deskmate. Whenever I hear it, I will think of Xiaowei. How are you, my old deskmate?