Facing South
An old friend used to say to me， “When you are thinking of taking a new house， go and see it on a dismal day. If you like it then， you need not doubt about liking it in fine weather.” We all enjoy the sun. The sun is the source of heat and life to the earth. Yet people are still to be found who deliberately shut out the sun from their rooms， and are unmindful of the Italian saying that where the sun does not go the doctor does. A succession of dull days damps down the spirits. In this country， especially， we know the value of “facing south”.
Are we not like houses？ We have eyes instead of windows， but we face south， north， east， or west. Who does not know the men and women facing north？ Hard and cold， never letting a ray of sunshine into their souls， they stand pitilessly away from all the cheers and warms of our poor humanity. They are the people who pour cold water on all our enthusiasms， have no faith in human nature， no sympathy with human suffering； who leave the lame dog at the stile. We know the futility of approaching them in the hour of distress or trouble.
Most of us， it is to be feared， face either east or west. Part of us is in the sun， part in the shadow. We are easily depressed or exalted. We talk of our dual personality， and do nothing to cultivate the better part. But there are a few people who， like an attractive house， face south. One never goes to them in vain. They look on the sunny side of things； they see obstacles only to surmount them. Coming into their presence is like coming into a sunny room. The dull care or the throbbing trouble disappears. “God’s in His heaven， all’s right with the world” is their motto.
Sunny people are not necessarily well-to-do people. The best relative the writer recalls， was an aunt who lived in a tiny country cottage and maintained an old-world dignity on ninety pounds a year. In hours of ease a well-read， charming companion， she was a veritable tower of strength and a refuge in times of tribulation. She would create cosmos out of the chaos of a broken household； she literally bound up the wounds and salved the sickness of innumerable kinsmen and neighbors； every delicate child in the family passed through her hands； and at the appropriate seasons she would produce from her store some wondrous little gifts.