Work is a part of living --my grandparents understood that. They lived and worked on a farm that has been in my family for 150 years. They raised chickens for eggs , pigs and cattle for meat . Cows were kept for milk and the cream, from which Grandma made butter and cheese. What little yard they had became a garden. The Depression, therefore, didn't make much change in their lives. But it did bring an unending flow of men out of work, drifting from job to job, to the farm. The first to show up at the door of the kitchen was a man in rags. He took off his hat and quietly explained that he hadn't eaten for a while. Grandpa stood watching him a bit , then said , "There's a stack of firewood against the fence behind the barn  . I've been needing to get it moved to the other side of the fence . You have just about enough time to finish the job before lunch ." Grandma said a surprising thing happened. The man got a shine in his eyes and he hurried to the barn at once. She set another place at the table and made an apple pie. During lunch, the stranger didn't say much, but when he left, his shoulders had straightened. "Nothing ruins a man like losing his self-respect," Grandpa later told me. Soon after, another man showed up asking for a meal. This one was dressed in a suit and carried a small old suitcase. Grandpa came out when he heard voices. He looked at the man and then offered a handshake." There is a stack of firewood along the fence down behind the barn I've been meaning to get it moved. It'd sure be a help to me . And we'd be pleased to have you stay for lunch." The fellow set his suitcase aside and neatly laid his coat on top. Then he set off to work. Grandma says she doesn't remember how many strangers they shared a meal with during those Depression days-or how many times that stack of wood got moved. The writer's grandfather was all of the following but  _  .
kind thoughtful wealthy sympathetic