The first is, that dislike, nine times out often, is simply a “cutaneous disorder.”  That is, it is merely an irritation excited by the friction of one nervous system upon another.  The tiny tempests in the tiny teapots which are caused by this nervous friction, the great weight attached to the most trivial matters of dispute, would touch one’s sense of humor keenly if it were not that in so many cases these tiny tempests develop into real hurricanes.  Take, for example, two dear and intimate friends who have lived happily together for years.  Neither has a disposition which is perfect; but that fact has never interfered with their friendship.  Both get over-tired.  Words are spoken which sound intensely disagreeable, even cruel.  They really express nothing in the world but tired nerves.  They are received and misinterpreted by tired nerves on the other side.  So these two sets of nerves act and react upon one another, and from nothing at all is evolved an ill-feeling which, if allowed to grow, separates the friends.  Each is fully persuaded that his cutaneous trouble has profound depth.  By a persistent refusal of all healing salves it sometimes sinks in until the disease becomes really deep seated.  All this is so unnecessary.  Through the same mistake many of us carry minor dislikes which, on account of their number and their very pettiness, are wearing upon the nerves, and keep us from our best in whatever direction we may be working.

The remedy for all these seems very clear when once we find it.  Recognize the shallow-ness of the disorder, acknowledge that it is a mere matter of nerves, and avoid the friction.  Keep your distance.  It is perfectly possible and very comfortable to keep your distance from the irritating peculiarities of another, while having daily and familiar relations with him or her.  The difficulty is in getting to a distance when we have allowed ourselves to be over-near; but that, too, can be accomplished with patience.  And by keeping a nervous distance, so to speak, we are not only relieved from irritation, but we find a much more delightful friendship; we see and enjoy the qualities in another which the petty irritations had entirely obscured from our view.  If we do not allow ourselves to be touched by the personal peculiarities, we get nearer the individual himself.

To give a simple example which would perhaps seem absurd if it had not been proved true so many times:  A man was so annoyed by his friend’s state of nervous excitability that in taking a regular morning walk with him, which he might have enjoyed heartily, he always returned fagged out He tried whilst walking beside his friend to put himself in imagination on the other side of the street The nervous irritation lessened, and finally ceased; the walk was delightful, and the friend—­never suspected!

A Japanese crowd is so well-bred that no one person touches another; one need never jostle, but, with an occasional “I beg your pardon,” can circulate with perfect ease.  In such a crowd there can be no irritation.