Our Hero and Leander, there, who are arranging their cottage to-day, are examples just in point. They have both of them been only children,--both the idols of circles where they have been universally deferred to. Each in his or her own circle has been looked up to as a model of good taste, and of course each has the habit of exercising and indulging very distinct personal tastes. They truly, deeply esteem, respect, and love each other, and for the very best of reasons,--because there are sympathies of the very highest kind between them. Both are generous and affectionate,--both are highly cultured in intellect and taste,--both are earnestly religious; and yet, with all this, let me tell you that the first year of their married life will be worthy to be recorded as _a year of battles_. Yes, these friends so true, these lovers so ardent, these individuals in themselves so admirable, cannot come into the intimate relations of life without an effervescence as great as that of an acid and alkali; and it will be impossible to decide which is most in fault, the acid or the alkali, both being in their way of the very best quality. The reason of it all is, that both are intensely “_set in their way_,” and the ways of no two human beings are altogether coincident. Both of them have the most sharply defined, exact tastes and preferences. In the simplest matter both have _a way_,--an exact way,--which seems to be dear to them as life’s blood. In the simplest appetite or taste they know exactly what they want, and cannot, by any argument, persuasion, or coaxing, be made to want anything else. For example, this morning dawns bright upon them, as she, in her tidy morning wrapper and trimly laced boots, comes stepping over the bales and boxes which are discharged on the verandah; while he, for joy of his new acquisition, can hardly let her walk on her own pretty feet, and is making every fond excuse to lift her over obstacles and carry her into her new dwelling in triumph. Carpets are put down, the floors glow under the hands of obedient workmen, and now the furniture is being wheeled in. “Put the piano in the bow-window,” says the lady. “No, not in the bow-window,” says the gentleman. “Why, my dear, of course it must go in the bow-window. How awkward it would look anywhere else! I have always seen pianos in bow-windows.” “My love, certainly you would not think of spoiling that beautiful prospect from the bow-window by blocking it up with the piano. The proper place is just here, in the corner of the room. Now try it.” “My dear, I think it looks dreadfully there; it spoils the appearance of the room.” “Well, for my part, my love, I think the appearance of the room would be spoiled, if you filled up the bow-window. Think what a lovely place that would be to sit in!” “Just as if we couldn’t sit there behind the piano, if we wanted to!” says the lady.