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.  Dis make forty t’ousand dish you break, Mari’, sin’ you war’ a young woman.  S’pose you t’ink Masser made of plate, dat you break ’em up so!  Dat what ole Plin say—­de nigger!  He say all men made of clay, and plate made of clay, too—­well, bot’ clay, and bot’ break.  All on us wessels, and all on us break to pieces some day, and den dey’ll t’row us away, too.”

A general laugh succeeded this touch of morality, Great Smash being a little addicted to ethical remarks of this nature; after which the war was renewed on the subject of the broken crockery.  Nor did it soon cease; wrangling, laughing, singing, toiling, a light-heartedness that knew no serious cares, and affection, making up the sum of the everyday existence of these semi-civilized beings.  The presence of the party in the valley, however, afforded the subject of an episode; for a negro has quite as much of the de haut en bas in his manner of viewing the aborigines, as the whites have in their speculations on his own race.  Mingled with this contempt, notwithstanding, was a very active dread, neither of the Plinys, nor of their amiable consorts, in the least relishing the idea of being shorn of the wool, with shears as penetrating as the scalping-knife.  After a good deal of discussion on this subject, the kitchen arrived at the conclusion that the visit of the major was ordered by Providence, since it was out of all the rules of probability and practice to have a few half-clad savages get the better of “Masser Bob,” who was born a soldier, and had so recently been fighting for the king.

On the latter subject, we ought to have stated that the captain’s kitchen was ultra-loyal.  The rude, but simple beings it contained, had a reverence for rank and power that even a “rebbelushun” could not disturb, and which closely associated, in their minds, royal authority with divine power.  Next to their own master, they considered George III, as the greatest man of the age; and there was no disposition in them to rob him of his rights or his honours.