if you differ from them on any point whatever, they regard the fact of your differing from them as proof, not merely that you are intellectually stupid, but that you are morally depraved.  Some really good men and women cannot let slip an opportunity of saying anything that may be disagreeable.  And this is an evil that tends to perpetuate itself; for when Mr. Snarling comes and says to you something uncomplimentary of yourself or your near relations, instead of your doing what you ought to do, and pitying poor Snarling, and recommending him some wholesome medicine, you are strongly tempted to retort in kind:  and thus you sink yourself to Snarling’s level, and you carry on the row.  Your proper course is either to speak kindly to poor Snarling, or not to speak to him at all.  There is something unsound about the man whom you never heard say a good word of any mortal, but whom you have heard say a great many bad words of a great many mortals.  There is unsoundness verging on entire insanity in the man who is always fancying that all about him are constantly plotting to thwart his plans and damage his character.  There is unsoundness in the man who is constantly getting into furious altercations with his fellow passengers in steamers and rail-ways, or getting into angry and lengthy correspondence with anybody in the newspapers or otherwise.  There is unsoundness in the man who is ever telling you amazing stories which he fancies prove himself to be the bravest, cleverest, swiftest of mankind, but which (on his own showing) prove him to be a vapouring goose.  There is unsoundness in the man or woman who turns green with envy as a handsome carriage drives past, and then says with awful bitterness that he or she would not enter such a shabby old conveyance.  There is unsoundness in the mortal whose memory is full to repletion of contemptible little stories going to prove that all his neighbours are rogues or fools.  There is unsoundness in the unfortunate persons who are always bursting into tears and bahooing out that nobody loves them.  Nobody will, so long as they bahoo.  Let them stop bahooing.  There is unsoundness in the mental organization of the sneaky person who stays a few weeks in a family, and sets each member of it against all the rest by secretly repeating to each exaggerated and malicious accounts of what has been paid as to him or her by the others.  There is unsoundness in the perverse person who resolutely docs the opposite of what you wish and expect:  who won’t go the pleasure excursion you had arranged on his account, or partake of the dish which has been cooked for his special eating.  There is unsoundness in the deluded and unamiable person who, by a grim, repellent, Pharisaic demeanour and address excites in the minds of young persons gloomy and repulsive ideas of religion, which wiser and better folk find it very hard to rub away.  ‘Will my father be there?’ said a little Scotch boy to some one who had been telling him of the Happiest Place