On certain questions of comparative speaking their views were never identical. Such as the temperature being hot or cold, things being light or dark, the apple-tarts being sweet or sour. So one day Mr. Skratdj came into the room, rubbing his hands, and planting himself at the fire with "Bitterly cold it is to-day, to be sure." "Why, my dear William," said Mrs. Skratdj, "I'm sure you must have got a cold; I feel a fire quite oppressive myself." "You were wishing you'd a sealskin jacket yesterday, when it wasn't half as cold as it is to-day," said Mr. Skratdj. "My dear William! Why, the children were shivering the whole day, and the wind was in the north." "Due east, Mrs. Skratdj." "I know by the smoke," said Mrs. Skratdj, softly, but decidedly. "I fancy I can tell an east wind when I feel it," said Mr. Skratdj, jocosely, to the company. "I told Jemima to look at the weathercock," murmured Mrs. Skratdj. "I don't care a fig for Jemima," said her husband. On another occasion Mrs. Skratdj and a lady friend were conversing. * * * "We met him at the Smith's--a gentlemanlike, agreeable man, about forty," said Mrs. Skratdj, in reference to some matter interesting to both ladies. "Not a day over thirty-five," said Mr. Skratdj, from behind his newspaper. "Why, my dear William, his hair's gray," said Mrs. Skratdj. "Plenty of men are gray at thirty," said Mr. Skratdj. "I knew a man who was gray at twenty-five." "Well, forty or thirty-five, it doesn't much matter," said Mrs. Skratdj, about to resume her narration. "Five years matters a good deal to most people at thirty-five," said Mr. Skratdj, as he walked towards the door. "They would make a remarkable difference to me, I know;" and with a jocular air Mr. Skratdj departed, and Mrs. Skratdj had the rest of the anecdote her own way. * * * * * The Spirit of Contradiction finds a place in most nurseries, though to a very varying degree in different ones. Children snap and snarl by nature, like young puppies; and most of us can remember taking part in some such spirited dialogues as the following: "I will." "You can't." "You shall." "I won't." "You daren't." "I dare." "I'll tell mamma." "I don't care if you do." It is the part of wise parents to repress these squibs and crackers of juvenile contention, and to enforce that slowly learned lesson, that in this world one must often "pass over" and "put up with" things in other people, being oneself by no means perfect. Also that it is a kindness, and almost a duty, to let people think and say and do things in their own way occasionally. But even if Mr. and Mrs. Skratdj had ever thought of teaching all this to their children, it must be confessed that the lesson would not have come with a good grace from either of them, since they snapped and snarled between themselves as much or more than their children in the nursery.