have been local only had he not come too near to the American newspaper correspondent. The desire of the weak to appease or flatter the strong has been the most fertile origin of titles. In darkest Africa the king is addressed by such names as the 'Lion of Heaven,' the 'Bird who eats other birds' or 'Thou who art as high as the mountains.' A proper name easily becomes applied to a family or a class, and is thus handed down to successive generations. Nothing is easier for the savage than to apply superhuman attributes to a successful warrior and to deify him after his death. After natural slumber he wakes with renewed strength. The slumber of death seems merely deeper and longer than usual, and it is easy to believe that latent power ha* not been lost. The warlike father of his tribe is transformed into the god of his tribe. The grand lama of Thibet does not wait for death, but is worshiped as 'God the Father' by his obsequious subjects. The ruler, whether visible or invisible, is 'father,' 'king' or 'God,' indifferently. If his authority becomes widely recognized, if his empire includes subordinate kingdoms like that of the German Kaiser to-day, he becomes 'king of kings' and 'lord of lords.'
With the development of successive grades of honor, power and position comes the demand for recognition to be accorded by those' below and the temptation to appease and flatter those above. The fundamental motive is the lively sense of favors to come; the wish to create obligation among those whose power enables them possibly to interfere with our welfare, and to exact allegiance from those whom we may possibly use for our own advantage. The ordinary father of a family addresses the king in the language of adulation, and is addressed in similar terms by his wives, children and servants; while these in turn receive from the dogs all the flattery that can be ostentatiously suggested by wagging tails and eloquent barking.
But while selfishness is one of the bases of title-giving, it is not the only one. Regard for others is a characteristic of humanity quite as natural and universal as self-regard. Selfishness and generosity are relative terms. The man or woman who is much less considerate of the rights of others than are the majority of people composing society is soon found out and becomes an object of dislike, if not of positive hatred. To be kind to one's friends, to take an interest in the welfare of those around us, to help those who are in trouble, to sympathize with the pleasures of those who are enjoying life, to make friends by being friendly—these are some of the most fertile sources of human happiness. Nor is this confined to humanity. If happiness can be judged by its visible manifestations, there is many a dog whose happiness is apparently bound up in the most unselfish devotion to his master. Love in the home circle and politeness in general society are not merely indications of refinement; they are positive contributions to the general
