I often think that parents do not take enough trouble in this respect to make children used to strangers.  What often happens is that parents are themselves shy and embarrassed in the presence of strangers, and when they notice that their children suffer from the same awkwardness, they criticise them afterwards, partly because they are vexed at their own clumsy performance; and thus the shyness is increased, because the child, in addition to his sense of shyness before strangers, has in the background of his mind the feeling that any mauvaise honte that he may display may he commented upon afterwards.  No exhibition of shyness on the part of a boy or girl should ever be adverted upon by parents.  They should take for granted that no one is ever willingly shy, and that it is a misery which all would avoid if they could.  It is even better to allow children considerable freedom of speech with strangers, than to repress and silence them.  Of course impertinence and unpleasant comments, such as children will sometimes make on the appearance or manners of strangers, must be checked, but it should be on the grounds of the unpleasantness of such remarks, and not on the ground of forwardness.  On the other hand, all attempts on the part of a child to be friendly and courteous to strangers should be noted and praised; a child should be encouraged to look upon itself as an integral part of a circle, and not as a silent and lumpish auditor.

Probably too there are certain physical and psychological laws, which we do not at all understand, which account for the curious subjective effects which certain people have at close quarters; there is something hypnotic and mesmeric about the glance of certain eyes; and there is in all probability a curious blending of mental currents in an assembly of people, which is not a mere fancy, but a very real physical fact.  Personalities radiate very real and unmistakable influences, and probably the undercurrent of thought which happens to be in one’s mind when one is with others has an effect, even if one says or does nothing to indicate one’s preoccupation.  A certain amount of this comes from an unconscious inference on the part of the recipients.  We often augur, without any very definite rational process, from the facial expressions, gestures, movements, tones of others, what their frame of mind is.  But I believe that there is a great deal more than that.  We must all know that when we are with friends to whose moods and emotions we are attuned, there takes place a singular degree of thought-transference, quite apart from speech.  I had once a great friend with whom I was accustomed to spend much time tete-a-tete.  We used to travel together and spend long periods, day after day, in close conjunction, often indeed sharing the same bedroom.  It became a matter at first of amusement and interest, but afterwards an accepted fact, that we could often realise, even after a long silence, in what direction the other’s