her more attachment for any one of
her children than for all of their own, though each had been reasonably
prolific. The _sobriquets_ had passed into general use, and the
real names of Bess and Ma_ri'_ were nearly obsolete. Still, the
major thought it polite to use the latter on the present occasion.

"Upon my word, Mrs. Bess," he said, shaking the old woman cordially by
the hand, though he instinctively shrunk back from the sight of a pair
of lips that were quite ultra, in the way of pouting, which used often
to salute him twenty years before--"Upon my word, Mrs. Bess, you
improve in beauty, everytime I see you. Old age and you seem to be
total strangers to each other. How do you manage to remain so comely
and so young?"

"God send 'e fus', Masser Bob, heabben be praise, and a good conscience
do 'e las'. I _do_ wish you could make ole Plin hear _dat_!
He nebber t'ink any good look, now-a-day, in a ole wench."

"Pliny is half blind. But that is the way with most husbands, Smash;
they become blind to the charms of their spouses, after a few years of
matrimony."

"Nebber get marry, Masser Bob, if dat be 'e way."

Then Great Smash gave such a laugh, and such a swing of her unwieldy
body, that one might well have apprehended her downfall. But, no such
thing. She maintained the equilibrium; for, renowned as she had been
all her life at producing havoc among plates, and cups, and bowls, she
was never known to be thrown off her own centre of gravity. Another
hearty shake of the hand followed, and the major quitted the table. As
was usual on all great and joyous occasions in the family, when the
emotions reached the kitchen, that evening was remarkable for a
"smash," in which half the crockery that had just been brought from the
table, fell an unresisting sacrifice. This produced a hot discussion
between "The Big" and "The Little" as to the offender, which resulted,
as so often happens, in these inquiries into the accidents of domestic
life, in the conclusion that "nobody" was alone to blame.

"How 'e t'ink he _can_ come back, and not a plate crack!"
exclaimed Little Smash, in a vindicatory tone, she being the real
delinquent--"Get in 'e winder, too! Lor! _dat_ enough to break all
'e dish in 'e house, and in 'e mill, too! I _do_ wish ebbery plate
we got was an Injin--den you see fun! Can nebber like Injin; 'em so
red, and so sabbage!"

"Nebber talk of Injin, now," answered the indignant mother--"better
talk of plate. D