asted his substance in presents and hospitality, and
bred a fine race of parasites and trencher-friends. When he spent all
and began to be in want, no man gave unto him. The winter shower drove
away the summer flies. He had loved the reputation for splendid
liberality, and lavish generosity, and had sought to be a little god
among men, bestowing favors and receiving homage, all of which was only
a more subtle form of selfishness. When the brief day of prosperity
passed, men shut their doors against the setting sun. The smooth and
smilling crowd dropped off with a shrug, and Timon went to the other
extreme of misanthropy, declaimed against friendship, and cursed men
for their ingratitude. But after all he got what he had paid for. He
thought he had been buying the hearts of men, and found that he had
only bought their mouths, and tongues, and eyes.

"He that loves to be flattered is worthy of the flatterer." For moral
value there is not much to choose between them. Rats are said to
desert the sinking ship, which is not to be wondered at in rats. The
choice of friendship does not mean the indiscriminate acceptance of all
who are willing to assume the name of friend. A touch of east wind is
good, not only to weed out the false and test the true, but also to
brace a man to the stern realities of life. When we find that some of
our intimates are dispersed by adversity, instead of raving against the
world's ingratitude like Timon, we should be glad that now we know whom
exactly we can trust.

Another common way of choosing friends, and one which also meets with
its own fitting reward, is the selfish method of valuing men according
to their usefulness to us. To add to their credit, or reputation, some
are willing to include anybody in their list of intimates. For
business purposes even, men will sometimes run risks, by endangering
the peace of their home and the highest interests of those they love;
they are ready to introduce into their family circle men whom they
distrust morally, because they think they can make some gain out of the
connection.

All the stupid snobbishness, and mean tuft-hunting so common, are due
to the same desire to make use of people in some way or other. It is
an abuse of the word friendship to apply it to such social scrambling.
Of course, even tuft-hunting may be only a perverted desire after what
we think the best, a longing to get near those we consider of nobler
nature and larger