His greatest power, however, was manifested in his winning men by direct and individual contact. One thing which assisted him in this direction was the fact that he was, perhaps, the most courteous of all the public men of his generation. Whenever a stranger was introduced to him, a hearty handshake, a look of interest and an attentive and cordial manner assured him that Mr. Blaine was very glad to see him. If they chanced to meet again, after months or even years, the man was delighted to find that Mr. Blaine not only remembered his name, but that he had seemed to treasure even the most trivial recollections of their short acquaintance. He had a marvellous memory for faces and names, and he understood the value of this gift.

This ability to remember faces is not difficult to acquire. We could all possess it if we would make sufficient effort. No two figures or countenances are precisely alike, and it is by noting how they differ one from another that you will remember them.

In explaining his own remarkable memory for faces, Thomas B. Reed once said to a reporter that he never looked a man in the face that some striking peculiarity, a line, a wrinkle, an expression about the eye, the set of the lips, the shape of the nose, something set that man's face down in his mind indelibly, and distinguished him from the rest of mankind.

Blaine carefully trained himself to pick out some feature or peculiarity by which he could distinguish one face or person from all others and by which he could associate the name of the individual.

The ability to remember names and faces is one of the most valuable accomplishments for the man in public life, or, indeed, for any man or woman who wishes social success. Not only does it insure comfort to one's self, but it is especially pleasing to others. Next to the comfort of being able to address by name and without hesitation a person one has met but once, and without mistake, is the comfort of being recognized one's self.

Another reason why Mr. Blaine was popular with the masses was because he was not difficult to approach, and he never missed a chance to be useful to a person who might some time, in turn, be useful to him.

The St. Louis Globe-Democrat said shortly after his death: "It was not the habit of Mr. Blaine to wait for men to seek favors from him. He anticipated their desires, and doubled their obligations to him by doing voluntarily what might have been delayed for solicitation. That gave him the kind of popularity which outlasts defeat and resists all ordinary influences of criticism and hostility. He could always count upon a certain measure of unflinching and unconditional support, whatever forces happened to be arrayed against him; and he changed bitter enemies into zealous friends with a facility that was a source of constant surprise and wonder."

But why should his success in attracting others to himself be a source of "surprise and wonder"?

Mr. Blaine, in common with many other magnetic men and women, understood that the secret of personal fascination lies in one single point; that is, "in the power to excite in another person happy feelings of a high degree of intensity, and to make that person identify such feelings with the charm and power of the cherished cause of them."

Any quality, good or evil, that enables a man to do this, renders him fascinating, whether he be saint or sinner. Indeed, some of the men who have been the most skilful in the art of pleasing have been scoundrels.

Said a writer in the Boston Herald: "It used to be said of Aaron Burr—so irresistible in charm of manner was the man—that he could never stop at the stand of the ugliest old crone of an apple-woman, without leaving on her mind when he went away the conviction that he regarded her as the fairest and most gracious of her sex. And so, had woman suffrage prevailed in his day, he would have had the solid vote of the apple-women for any office he might aspire to."

Aaron Burr clearly understood that the woman does not exist who is wholly without sentiment, and he always appealed to that part of a woman's nature.

He understood very well the truth of these words written by Croly: "In the whole course of my life I never met a woman, from the flat-nosed and ebony-colored inhabitant of the tropics to the snow-white and sublime divinity of a Greek isle, without a touch of romance; repulsiveness could not conceal it, age could not extinguish it, viscissitude could not change it. I have found it in all times and places, like a spring of fresh water, starting up even from the flint, cheering the cheerless, softening the insensible, renovating the withered; a secret whisper in the ear of every woman alive that to the last, affection might flutter its rosy pinions around her brow."

Burr, understanding this, left in the mind of the apple-woman the firm impression that he thought she must have been at one time a duchess, reduced in fortune by some accident, and now driven to the last refuge of an apple-stand, and that those sad facts evidently accounted for the traits of high breeding and delicate refinement so visible through all her present poverty.

He understood the fact that all people live in two distinct worlds—the world of reality and the world of imagination. In the world of reality they use brooms and shovels, wash floors and dishes, or sell apples; in the other, they live in drawing rooms, feast sumptuously and are the wonder and admiration of mankind.

"Few people," continues the writer in the Herald, "would believe that an ugly, dilapidated looking apple-woman could dwell in the enchanted realm of imagination just as much as the rich and favored do. But Burr believed it, so when he spoke to the old crone, he went up, not to her withered and beggarly self, but to her ideal self, imaginatively entering into the duchess dream in her, and instinctively became deferential in his bearing.

"Forthwith the duchess in her came out to meet the courtly gentleman in him, and greetings were exchanged as between two incognito scions of noble lineage. Each enjoyed the meeting, each had vividness enough of imagination to impart to it the flavor of reality, and to keep out of sight common, material facts."

"But," you say, "not every man can make such an impression, for few are able to do and say things with the ease and grace of a Burr. There must be a naturalness of manner which never suggests suspicion. Let the average man attempt to force his nature and to manufacture smiles and looks of pleasure, and the old apple-woman will know at once that she is being fooled." Very true, and it is not desirable that the average man should possess the ability of an Aaron Burr to influence others. Few persons try as he did to acquire that power, but because the average man cannot at once exercise that potent influence over others which he did, it does not follow that we are unable to understand the secret of Burr's success, nor is it evident that other men cannot acquire something of this power by thinking it worth while to do so.

It would not be safe to say that all men can be equally successful, try as they will, in inspiring in others "happy feelings of a high degree of intensity," for nature has not been impartial in bestowing equally upon all the gifts of adaptation and expression.

There are a few persons so constituted by temperament and mental organism that they exercise a depressing influence over their associates. They have a negative, flabby spirit that seems to operate, speaking figuratively, much as a wet shoe does upon one who is compelled to wear it. They draw upon the nervous strength and exhaust the patience of those who are