But though so wide a field is granted to our friendship, and though it
may reveal itself under a plurality of aspects to those who seek it,
strange to say, the world knows very little about it. We speak of it
as of some regretted treasure that has been long lost to humanity. We
are half convinced that the lightning speed of modern civilization has
been too much for it, and that it is destined for time to come, to
creep on apace within the range of our backward glance, but never
within reach of our grasp.
And all the while we are only building up an opaque and dreary barrier
that will shut out much of the summer sunshine from our daily lives of
toil and trouble. Men and women who could make each other's burdens of
sorrow fewer and lighter by a mutual sympathy and devotedness, look
above each other's heads in the hurrying crowd and pass by each other,
shoulder to shoulder, wearing a mask of calm and cold neutrality over
hearts that are glowing with an unspoken kindness and affection.
"A woman," says Bulwer, "if she be really your friend, will have a
sensitive regard for your character, honor and repute. She will seldom
counsel you to do a shabby thing, for a woman friend always desires to
be proud of you. She is," he further observes, "to man _presidium et
dulce decus_, bulwark, sweetness, ornament of his existence."
And indeed his words and their import are most rational and
self-sustaining. It is no longer a matter of private or personal
opinion to decide whether the friendship of a truly good woman
benefits the man upon whom she bestows it or not.
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