We are working now on the assumption that each of us has a sincere desire to brighten the pathway of others, to make this hard business of daily living more tolerable. Of all the passive endurances of life, strangerhood is one of the hardest to the sensitive spirit. Your neighbor’s heart is lighter because you show that you are aware of her existence and, in some sort, recognize her identity. She may not be your congener. Your bow and smile remind her that you are her fellow human being. Stranger
ships meeting in mid-ocean do not wait to inspect credentials before exchanging salutes.
If your neighbor be an acquaintance whom you esteem, do not let her be in doubt on this point.
In ante-bellum days at the South, neighborhood was a powerful bond of sympathy. Miles meant less to them in this respect than so many squares mean to us now. A system of wireless telegraphy connected plantations for an area of many miles. Joy or sorrow set the current in motion from one end to the other. What I have called elsewhere being “kitchenly-kind,” was comprehended in perfection in that bygone time. When the house-mother sent a pot of preserves to her neighbor with her love, and “she would like to know how you all are to-day,” it was the outward and substantial sign of the inward grace of loving kindness, and not an intimation that the recipient’s preserve-closet was not so well-stocked as the giver’s. When opened hamper and unfolded napkin showed a quarter of lamb, or a steak, or a roll of home-made “sausage meat,” enough neighborly love garnished the gift to make it beautiful.
“’Tis true: ’tis true ’tis pity; And pity ’tis ’tis true.”
Enough of the old-time spirit lives among our really “best people” to justify the “kitchenly-kind” in proffering gifts that presuppose personal liking and active desire to please a neighbor. A cake compounded by yourself; a plate of home-made rolls taken from your own table; a dainty fancy dish of sweets of home-manufacture, express more of the “real thing” than a box of confectionery or a basket of flowers put up by a florist. It is the personal touch that glorifies the gift, the consciousness that your neighbor thinks enough of you to give of her time and service for your pleasure. The home-made offering partakes of her individuality, and appeals to yours.