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It is not only the village matron, who, when called to a consultation upon the case of a neighbor’s child, pronounces on the evil and its remedy simply on the recollection and authority of what she accounts the similar case of her Lucy.
“Don’t you think,” ventured Thérèse, “that we make too much of our individual trials. We are all so prone to believe our own burden heavier than our neighbor’s.” “Perhaps but there can be no question about the weight of David’s. I’m not a bit selfish about him though; poor fellow, I only wish he’d marry again.” Melicent’s last words stung Thérèse like an insult.
Cameron," said Florence, "what did you come for, and who knew you were coming?" "I came to see you, and you knew I was coming," answered Frank. "Well, then," returned Florence, "if you came to see me, do look at me, and not keep your eyes fixed so continually on Fanny. In a few days you will be breaking the commandment which says: ’Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife.’"
Each of us is sick enough in this great lazaretto, and many a polemical writing reminds me involuntarily of a revolting quarrel, in a little hospital at Cracow, of which I chanced to be a witness, and where it was horrible to hear how the patients mockingly reproached each other with their infirmities: how one who was wasted by consumption jeered at another who was bloated by dropsy; how one laughed at another’s cancer in the nose, and this one again at his neighbor’s locked-jaw or squint, until at last the delirious fever-patient sprang out of bed and tore away the coverings from the wounded bodies of his companions, and nothing was to be seen but hideous misery and mutilation.”
Ole lived in a leaky dugout somewhere at the edge of the settlement. He was fat and lazy and discouraged, and bad luck had become a habit with him. After he had had every other kind of misfortune, his wife, “Crazy Mary,” tried to set a neighbor’s barn on fire, and was sent to the asylum at Lincoln.
She had her daily round of pleasant household duties and she enjoyed them. There were many other gatherings in honor of the bride and groom, tea-drinkings and evening calls, and a few called in to a neighbor’s house to meet them.
But, for certain other elements of virtue, which are of more obvious importance to untheological minds—a delicate sense of our neighbor’s rights, an active participation in the joys and sorrows of our fellow-men, a magnanimous acceptance of privation or suffering for ourselves when it is the condition of good to others, in a word, the extension and intensification of our sympathetic nature—we think it of some importance to contend that they have no more direct relation to the belief in a future state than the interchange of gases in the lungs has to the plurality of worlds.
When but seven summers had passed over my head, my little sister and I were at a neighbor’s two or three miles from home. In the early twilight a horseman came galloping down the road bearing the fateful news that Mother was dying. Quickly placing me behind him on the horse and taking my little sister in his arms, he galloped away through the early night.
Brown, Jones, or Robinson, the moment he has consciously produced on a neighbor’s ear or eye the sensation that a sound or a combination of colors has effected on his own organs, is an artist! Of course much of this has been recognized through all time.
As the whole of humanity is one organism, however, the welfare of each individual depends not only on his own behavior, but on that of his neighbors. If one does wrong, all suffer in greater or less degree; while if one does well, all benefit. Each has to bear his neighbor’s burdens, to some extent, and the best of mankind are those who bear the biggest burdens.
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