havoc, through it
also good persists. If we are hindered by the weakness of our
associates, we are often helped by their goodness and sweetness.
Contact with a strong nature inspires us with strength. Some one once
asked Kingsley what was the secret of his strong joyous life, and he
answered, "I had a friend." If every evil man is a centre of
contagion, every good man is a centre of healing. He provides an
environment in which others can see God. Goodness creates an
atmosphere for other souls to be good. It is a priestly garment that
has virtue even for the finger that touches it. The earth has its
salt, and the world has its light, in the sweet souls, and winsome
lives, and Christ-like characters to be found in it. The choice of
friends is therefore one of the most serious affairs in life, just
because a man becomes moulden into the likeness of what he loves in his
friend.

From the purely selfish standard, every fresh tie we form means giving
a new hostage to fortune, and adding a new risk to our happiness.
Apart from any moral evil, every intimacy is a danger of another blow
to the heart. But if we desire fulness of life, we cannot help
ourselves. A man may make many a friendship to his own hurt, but the
isolated life is a greater danger still. _Societas est mater
discordiarum_, which Scott in his humorous pathetic account of the
law-suits of Peter Peebles _versus_ Plainstanes in "Redgauntlet,"
translates, Partnership oft makes pleaship. Every relationship means
risk, but we must take the risk; for while nearly all our sorrows come
from our connection with others, nearly all our joys have the same
source. We cannot help ourselves; for it is part of the great
discipline of life. Rather, we need knowledge, and care, and
forethought to enable us to make the best use of the necessities of our
nature. And foremost of these for importance is our choice of friends.

We may err on the one side by being too cautious, and too exclusive in
our attachments. We may be supercilious, and disdainful in our
estimate of men. Contempt always blinds the eyes. Every man is
vulnerable somewhere, if only like Achilles in the heel. The true
secret of insight is not contempt, but sympathy. Such disdain usually
means putting all the eggs into one basket, when a smash spells ruin.

The other extreme is the attitude, which easily makes many friends,
without much consideration of quality. We know the type of man, who is