I dare say you have heard the story of the Scotch elder who, on the question being raised what service he could render at the church meetings, replied briskly, "I can always object." Well, Growler's one strong point was his talent for objecting, and gallantly he used it. He was one of those fellows who think a great deal more about the thorn of the rose than the flower, and who, feeing quite sure that nothing under the sun is perfect, set themselves to discover the imperfections in all things. I remember once a lot of us had planned a most delightful picnic for a certain holiday. We were to take two boats some miles up the river to a certain little island, where we proposed to land and erect a tent. Each fellow was to bring some contribution to the picnic, which we were to partake of with grand ceremony under the willows. Then we were to have some music, and generally take it easy. Afterwards we were to bathe, and then row some mile or two farther up to the woods, and have a squirrel hunt; and towards evening, after a picnic tea, drift down with the stream in time for the nine o'clock bell. It seemed a perfect plan, and as we sat and discussed it our spirits rose, and we found ourselves already enjoying our picnic in prospect. But presently Growler came into the room, and as he was to be one of the party, we had to go over all the plans again to him. Well, it was too bad! Not a single detail in our programme pleased him. "Row?" he said; "don't we get enough rowing, without having to give up holidays to it? besides, what's the fun of sitting in a tent, or eating your food among all the wasps and gnats up in that place? You surely aren't going to take that wretched concertina; that'll be enough to give us the blues, even if it doesn't rain, which it's pretty sure to do. I suppose you know the island's about the worst place for bathing--" "Come, now, old man, it's a first-rate place." "Well, you may think so; I don't. In fact, I don't see the fun of bathing after dinner at all. You don't expect _me_ to make a fool of myself hunting squirrels, do you, in those horrid woods? And you'll have to have tea, as you call it (though you might as well make one meal do for both), jolly early if you expect to drift down here by nine. Why, you won't do it in anything like the time, and fine fun it will be, sitting like dummies in a boat going at a mile an hour." This was cheerful, and no amount of argument would do away with our desirable friend's objections. The result was, we went, but tried to alter our programme in some points to please him: But he growled all the more, and would not enjoy the day himself, nor let us do so; and our grand picnic, thanks to him, was quite a failure.