Be not continually the hero of your own story; and, on the other hand, do not leave your story without a hero.

He.—

She.—And what recalled the poem?

He.—I was thinking of the people whom we meet, and who "speak us in the passing." People whom we may never meet again, but whom we never can forget.

She.—That intangible something which makes us wish to become more closely associated with our newly-made acquaintance,—what is it? It is indefinable. We meet some one at the theater, at the club, at the social function, and there lingers with us for many days, the remembrance of the few brief moments in which we felt that we were as "twin spirits moving musically to a lute's well ordered law." Strange as it may seem, we live in a world of people,—people to the right of us, people to the left of us, everywhere about us, and only here and there a kindred spirit in whose moral and mental atmosphere we bask as in the rays of sunshine. This something that makes us feel that only the element of time is needed to make of our newly-formed acquaintance a friend that shall last through life,—what is it? A warm hand clasp, a friendly word, and in one brief moment that mysterious something that clouds the soul, is thrown aside, and in our sky a new star appears as fixed as Polaris in the heavens.

When we have an experience of this kind, although we may have interchanged but few words with our new friend, we feel intuitively that we could spend many hours together and that we should never tire of exchanging ideas.

He.—Yes; but does this not presuppose a mind stored with those "treasured thoughts" about which we were speaking in our last conversation?

She.—Possibly, in a sense; but first of all, it presupposes harmony of taste, of feeling, of ideas. This does not mean, of course, that each shall agree with the other in all essentials, but that each shall have the same broad and intelligent way of looking at a subject, and a consideration each for the other's opinions.

He.—I think, though, that as a basis for harmonious intercourse, there must be an elimination of self. No one who is thoroughly selfish can interest any one but himself. It seems to me that the ideal relation between friends presupposes an entire elimination of self.

She.—Not necessarily so. One of the most tiresome persons that I know, is a gentleman who never refers to himself, to his aspirations, or to his plans; and for this reason, he fails entirely to awaken in his listener any interest in his personality whatsoever. He is the antipode of the person who talks only of what interests him. The person who uses discretion will not avoid all reference to himself, nor will he continually make himself the hero of his own story. It behooves us all to examine ourselves, and if we have either one of these faults to rid ourselves of it at once. In directing the trend of conversation, the tactful person will choose topics of mutual interest. People are interesting not in proportion as they recount their personal experiences, but as they evince a broad, general interest in what concerns others.

He.—We might add another golden rule to our list,—Golden Rule Number VI: Be not continually the hero of your own story, nor on the other hand, do not leave your story without a hero. In other words, it is fatal to one's success as a conversationalist either to eliminate oneself entirely or to appear self-centered.

She.—You might say to be self-centered. Selfishness is one of the most disagreeable traits that a person can have, and he who has this to a marked degree should try to eradicate it. Some one has said, "If we had to count our ills, we would not choose suspense," we might add, "If we had to choose our faults we should not choose selfishness." A person may observe all the golden rules that we have enumerated, but if he is at heart a selfish person, his conversation will lack the charm that emanates from the whole-souled individual whose first thought is to interest and entertain others. Let us cultivate an unselfish spirit, for without this, our words will be but as "sounding brass and tinkling cymbals."