ke up the mind more accurately and
securely. Through talking a subject over with another, one gets fresh
side-lights into it, new avenues open up, and the whole question
becomes larger and richer. Bacon says, "Friendship maketh daylight in
the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts: neither
is this to be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man
receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is,
that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and
understanding do clarify and break up in the communicating and
discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he
marshalleth them more orderly; he seeth how they look when they are
turned into words; finally he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more
by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation."

We must have been struck with the brilliancy of our own conversation
and the profundity of our own thoughts, when we shared them with one,
with whom we were in sympathy at the time. The brilliancy was not
ours; it was the reflex action which was the result of the communion.
That is why the effect of different people upon us is different, one
making us creep into our shell and making us unable almost to utter a
word; another through some strange magnetism enlarging the bounds of
our whole being and drawing the best out of us. The true insight after
all is love. It clarifies the intellect, and opens the eyes to much
that was obscure.

Besides the subjective influence, there may be the great gain of honest
counsel. A faithful friend can be trusted not to speak merely soft
words of flattery. It is often the spectator who sees most of the
game, and, if the spectator is at the same time keenly interested in
us, he can have a more unbiased opinion than we can possibly have. He
may have to say that which may wound our self-esteem; he may have to
speak for correction rather than for commendation; but "Faithful are
the wounds of a friend." The flatterer will take good care not to
offend our susceptibilities by too many shocks of wholesome
truth-telling; but a friend will seek our good, even if he must say the
thing we hate to hear at the time.

This does not mean that a friend should always be what is called
plain-spoken. Many take advantage of what they call a true interest in
our welfare, in order to rub gall into our wounds. The man who boasts
of his frankness and of his hatred of flattery, is