lary, came also the shelves,
depositing their contents with an astounding crash upon the floor, not a
jug out of some eight or ten, of various shapes and sizes, not a plate
out of some scores, not a bowl out of a dozen, not a cup or saucer out
of an entire set, escaping total demolition. The destruction was
frightful--unprecedented in the annals of domestic mishaps. On the
combatants the effect of the thundering crash of the crockery, or
smashables, as they have been sometimes characteristically designated,
was somewhat like that which has been known to be produced in a
sea-fight by the blowing up of a ship. Hostilities were instantly
suspended; all looking with silent horror on the dreadful scene of ruin
around them. Nor did any disposition to renew the contest return. On the
contrary, there was an evident inclination, on the part of two of the
combatants--namely, Mr. Callender and his wife--to evacuate the
premises. Appalled at the extent of the mischief done, and visited with
an awkward feeling of probable responsibility, they gradually edged
towards the door, and, finally, sneaked out of the house without saying
a word.

"If there's law or justice in the land," exclaimed Mrs. Anderson, in
high excitation, as she swept together the fragments of her demolished
crockery, "I'll hae't on Tam Callender and his wife. May I niver see the
morn, if I haena them afore the Shirra before a week gangs owre my head!
I hae a set aff, noo, against her jeely mug, I think."

"It's been a bonny business," replied her husband; "but what on earth
was't a' aboot?"

"What was't a' aboot!" repeated his wife, with some asperity of manner,
but now possessed of presence of mind enough to shift the ground of
quarrel, which she felt would comprise her with her husband. "Didna I
tell ye that already? What should it be a' aboot, but her confounded
jeely mug! But I'll mak her pay for this day's wark, or I'm sair
cheated. It'll be as bad a job this for them as the duck-dub, I'm
thinkin."

"We hadna muckle to brag o' there oursels, guidwife," interposed her
husband, calmly.

"See, there," said Mrs. Anderson, either not heeding, or not hearing
John's remark. "See, there," she said, holding up a fragment of one of
the broken vessels, "there's the end o' my bonny cheeny jug, that I was
sae vogie o', and that hadna its neebor in braid Scotland." And a tear
glistened in the eye of the susceptible mourner, as she contemplated the
melancholy remains,