Blessed is the man who has the gift of making friends; for it is one of
God’s best gifts. It involves many things, but above all, the power of
going out of one’s self, and seeing and appreciating whatever is noble
and living in another man.
But, even to him who has the gift, it is often a great puzzle to
find out whether a man is really a friend or not. The following is
recommended as a test in the case of any man about whom you are not
quite sure; especially if he should happen to have more of this world’s
goods, either in the shape of talents, rank, money, or what not, than
you:
Fancy the man stripped stark naked of every thing in the world, except
an old pair of trousers and a shirt, for decency’s sake, without
even a name to him, and dropped down in the middle of Holborn or
Piccadilly. Would you go up to him then and there, and lead him out
from among the cabs and omnibuses, and take him to your own home, and
feed him, and clothe him, and stand by him against all the world, to
your last sovereign and your last leg-of-mutton? If you wouldn’t do
this, you have no right to call him by the sacred name of friend. If
you would, the odds are that he would do the same by you, and you may
count yourself a rich man; for, probably, were friendship expressible
by, or convertible into current coin of the realm, one such friend
would be worth to a man at least £100,000. How many millionaires are
there in England? I can’t even guess; but more by a good many, I fear,
than there are men who have ten real friends. But friendship is not
so expressible or convertible. It is more precious than wisdom, and
wisdom “can not be gotten for gold, nor shall rubies be mentioned in
comparison thereof.” Not all the riches that ever came out of earth and
sea are worth the assurance of one such real abiding friendship in your
heart of hearts.
But for the worth of a friendship commonly so called—meaning thereby a
sentiment founded on the good dinners, good stories, opera stalls, and
days’ shooting, you have gotten or hope to get out of a man, the snug
things in his gift, and his powers of procuring enjoyment of one kind
or another to your miserable body or intellect—why, such a friendship
as that is to be appraised easily enough, if you find it worth your
while; but you will have to pay your pound of flesh for it one way
or another—you may take your oath of that. If you follow my advice,
you will take a £10 note down, and retire to your crust of bread and
liberty.