"Since we deserved the name of friends, And thine effect so lives in me, A part of mine may live in thee, And move thee on to noble ends."
Every woman has had, at some time in her life, an experience with man in the raw. In reality, one cannot set down with any degree of accuracy the age when his rawness attacks him, or the time when he has got the last remnant of it out of his system. But a close study of the complaint, and the necessity for pigeon-holing everything and everybody, lead one to declare that somewhere in the vicinity of the age of thirty-five man emerges from his rawness and becomes a part of trained humanity a humanity composed of men and women trained in the art of living together.
I am impressed with Professor Horton's
remarks on this subject: "It has sometimes struck me as very
singular," he says, "that while nothing is so common and nothing is
so difficult as living with other people, we are seldom instructed in our youth
how to do it well. Our knowledge of the subject is acquired by experience,
chiefly by failures. And by the time that we have tolerably mastered the
delicate art, we are on the point of being called to the isolation of the grave
or shall I say to the vast company of the Majority?