There are exceptions to every rule, and to the maxim that “love begets love” there are many instances to be cited in which the contrary proves true.  We all have been so unfortunate at some time during our lives as to be liked by people of whom we were not fond.  But, if we look the matter thoughtfully and honestly in the face, we will acknowledge that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred we are attracted toward a person as soon as we learn that that person finds us agreeable.  Of course this knowledge must not be conveyed in a manner that disgusts by effusiveness a sensitive person.  None of us like fulsome flattery, but a compliment so delicately hinted that it does not shock, and scarcely surprises the person for whom it is intended, seldom fails to produce an impression that is far from disagreeable.  Certainly no more graceful compliment can be paid a man or woman by us selfish mortals than the acknowledgment of an affinity between ourselves and the person whom we would honor by our friendship.  Said a well-known scholar to me: 

“The most laudatory public speech ever addressed to me failed to make my heart glow as warmly as did the remark of an old friend not long ago.  We had been separated for years, and at our reunion spent the first hour in talking of old times, etc.  Suddenly, my friend turned to me, and grasping my hand exclaimed: 

“‘Old fellow! you always were, and still are, my affinity!’

“The subtle flattery of that one exclamation makes me even now thrill with a delicious throb of self-conceit.”

Not long ago, I asked of an acquaintance who is a wonderful reader of character: 

“Why has Mrs. S——­ so many good friends?”

“Because she is such a good friend herself.”

“But why is she attractive to so many people?” queried I.

“Because she is first attracted by them,” was the quick response.  “She goes on the principle that there is some good in everybody, and sets herself to work to find it.  Each of us knows when she is thrown into contact with a person who likes her.  It is as if each were surrounded with tinted atmospheres,—­some green, some blue, some red, or yellow—­in fact, there are more shades and colors than you can mention.  When two reds meet, they mingle; when two harmonious tints touch, they may form a pleasing combination; but when such enemies as blue and green come together, they clash—­fairly ’swear at one another,’ and the persons enveloped in the opposing atmospheres are mutually disagreeable.  The man who is surrounded by the color capable of most harmonious combinations is said to have personal magnetism.”

May not this explanation, while rather far-fetched, afford some clue to the causes of personal popularity?  And the thought following swift upon this is:  If this be true, how much may each of us have to do with softening and making capable of harmony his and her own individual atmosphere?  While we cannot change our “colors” (to follow out my friend’s figure) we may shade them down and make them less pronounced, so that in time they may become capable of a variety of combinations.