severe truth, we have no more reason for wishing to shake hands with the man who thinks well of us than for wishing to shake the man who thinks ill of us, yet let us yield heartily to the former pleasant impulse.  It is not reasonable, but it is all right.  You cannot help liking people who estimate you favorably and say a good word of you.  No doubt we might slowly learn not to like them more than anybody else; but we need not take the trouble to learn that lesson.  Let us all, my readers, be glad if we can reach that cheerful position of mind at which my eloquent friend SHIRLEY and I have long since arrived:  that we are extremely gratified when we find ourselves favorably reviewed, and not in the least angry when we find ourselves reviewed unfavorably; that we have a very kindly feeling towards such as think well of us, and no unkind feeling whatever to those who think ill of us.  Thus, at the beginning of the month, we look with equal minds at the newspaper notices of our articles; we are soothed and exhilarated when we find ourselves described as sages, and we are amused and interested when we find ourselves shown up as little better than geese.

Of course, it makes a difference in the feeling with which you ought to regard any unfavorable opinion of you, whether spoken or written, if the unfavorable opinion which is expressed be plainly not honestly held, and be maliciously expressed.  You may occasionally hear a judgment expressed of a young girl’s music or dancing, of a gentleman’s horses, of a preacher’s sermons, of an author’s books, which is manifestly dictated by personal spite and jealousy, and which is expressed with the intention of doing mischief and giving pain to the person of whom the judgment is expressed.  You will occasionally find such judgments supported by wilful misrepresentation, and even by pure invention.  In such a case as this, the essential thing is not the unfavorable opinion; it is the malice which leads to its entertainment and expression.  And the conduct of the offending party should be regarded with that feeling which, on calm thought, you discern to be the right feeling with which to regard malice accompanied by falsehood.  Then, is it well to be angry here?  I think not.  You may see that it is not safe to have any communication with a person who will abuse and misrepresent you; it is not safe, and it is not pleasant.  But don’t be angry.  It is not worth while.  That old lady, indeed, told all her friends that you said, in your book, something she knew quite well you did not say.  Mr. Snarling did the like.  But the offences of such people are not worth powder and shot; and besides this, my friend, if you saw the case from their point of view, you might see that they have something to say for themselves.  You failed to call for the old lady so often as she wished you should.  You did not ask Mr. Snarling to dinner.  These are bad reasons for pitching into you; but still they are reasons; and Mr. Snarling and the old lady, by long brooding over them, may have come to think that they are very just and weighty reasons.  And did you never, my friend, speak rather unkindly of these two persons?  Did you never give a ludicrous account of their goings-on, or even an ill-set account, which some kind friend was sure to repeat to them?