act as good backgrounds, or form pleasing combinations with
ours, or we will none of them. Now it is quite possible for human
beings to hold contrary views from those entertained by you and me,
and still be excellent members of society and reputable Christians. To
many of us this seems incredible, but it is none the less true. Not
only are individual characters different, but environment and
education make us what we are. Very often a person who is uncongenial
to us, will, in the surroundings to which she is fitted, be at ease,
and perhaps even attractive.

I do not say that we must like everybody. That is a physical, mental
and moral impossibility. But we may do others the justice of seeing
their good traits as well as the bad. And sometimes when we find a
chance acquaintance drearily uninteresting, it is because we do not
take the trouble to find out what is in her.

Some people are always bored. May it not be because they look at
everything animate and inanimate from a selfish standpoint, with the
query in their minds, "How does that affect me?" The old definition of
a bore as "a person who talks so much of himself that he gives you no
chance to talk of yourself," may apply not only to the bore, but to
the bored. When you find yourself wearied and uninterested, be honest
enough to examine yourself calmly, and see if the reason is not
because your _vis-a-vis_ is not talking about anything which interests
you especially. Should he turn the conversation upon your favorite
occupation or pastime, or even upon your personal likes and dislikes
(which, by the way, might be an infinite bore to him), would he not at
once become entertaining?

Viewed from a selfish and politic standpoint, it is to our interest to
make the best of everybody. We cannot always pick and choose our
associates in the school of life, and must frequently be thrown with
people whom we do not "take to," and, worse still, who may not "take
to" us. Since this be true, would it not be better for us to look at
their pleasantest side, and, by making ourselves agreeable to them,
insure their friendly feeling for us? The old saying that the
good-will of a dog is preferable to his ill-will, may still be quoted
with regard to many specimens of the _genus homo_ which we daily meet.

There is one case in which I make an exception to all that I have
said--namely, when from the first, there is--not a feeling of dislike,
but a strong, uncontrollable personal antip