We have noticed two classes of individuals which these trying times produce, who ought to be ostracised by their fellow men, and, as it were, withered in the bud. We mean the growlers, and those of coroner instincts who hold post-mortems over their examinations. The growler, unlike his bibulous namesake, is a cause of depression and nervous exhaustion wherever he goes. It is enough, in the agonies of a protracted grind, to feel your own ignorance and shortcomings without having some lugubrious acquaintance darkly accusing the faculty, the fates, and the well - others, for things for which his own misapplication of energies is responsible. He cannot claim consideration as a pessimist, for a pessimist (according to the latest receipt) must be sadly cheerful, while he makes a very ordinary and unpoetic kind of a person out of himself by his querulous ways. Now for the coroner. He is sometimes a freshman, sometimes a grind, and always a crank. After a three hours' trial, he leaves the examination room, feeling, perhaps, well satisfied with his work. Soon, however, he meets A. and B., with whom he eagerly goes over the questions. He finds a dozen or so of his mistakes. After this he is hopeless. He throws himself upon his acquaintances, begging them to take a hand in the carving, and in a short time he has the examination nearly dissected, his only recompense being the loss of his peace of mind and that of his much consulted friends.