is something, I know not what, which yokes our fortunes, yours and
mine." Sometimes indeed we are mistaken, and the momentary nearness
fades and grows cold. But it is not often so. That peculiar motion
of the heart, that secret joining of hands, is based upon something
deep and vital, some spiritual kinship, some subtle likeness.

Of course, we differ vastly in our power of attracting and feeling
attraction. I confess that, for myself, I never enter a new company
without the hope that I may discover a friend, perhaps THE friend,
sitting there with an expectant smile. That hope survives a
thousand disappointments; yet most of us tend to make fewer friends
as time goes on, partly because we have not so much emotional
activity to spare, partly because we become more cautious and
discreet; and partly, too, because we become more aware of the
responsibilities which lie in the background of a friendship, and
because we tend to be more shy of responsibility. Some of us become
less romantic and more comfortable; some of us become more
diffident about what we have to give in return; some of us begin to
feel that we cannot take up new ideas--none of them very good
reasons perhaps; but still, for whatever reason, we make friends
less easily. The main reason probably is that we acquire a point of
view, and it is easier to keep to that, and fit people in who
accommodate themselves to it, than to modify the point of view with
reference to the new personalities. People who deal with life
generously and large-heartedly go on multiplying relationships to
the end.

Of course, as I have said, there are infinite grades of friendship,
beginning with the friendship which is a mere camaraderie arising
out of habit and proximity; and every one ought to be capable of