"Now, now," here interposed the judge, waving his hand impatiently, "one at a time, if you please. One at a time." "Surely," replied Mr Callender. "Staun aside, guidwife, staun aside," he said; at the same time gently pushing his wife back with his left hand as he spoke. "_I'll_ lay doon the case to his Lordship." "Ye'll do nae sic a thing, Tammas, _I'll_ do't," exclaimed Mrs Callender, not only resisting her husband's attempt to thrust her into the rear, but forcibly placing _him_ in that relative position; while she herself advanced a pace or two nearer to the bench. On gaining this vantage ground, Mrs Callender at once began, and with great emphasis and circumstantiality detailed the whole story of the nightcaps; carefully modelling it so, however, as to show that her own part in the transaction was a _bonâ fide_ proceeding; on the part of her rival, the reverse; and that the whole quarrel, with its consequent demolition of crockery, was entirely the result of Mrs Anderson's "upsettin pride, and vanity, and jealousy." During the delivery of these details, the Court was convulsed with laughter, in which the Sheriff himself had much difficulty to refrain from joining. On the husbands of the two women, however, they had a very different effect. Amazed, confounded, and grievously affronted at this unexpected disclosure of the ridiculous part they had been made to perform by their respective wives, they both sneaked out of Court, amidst renewed peals of laughter, leaving the latter to finish the case the best way they could. How this was effected we know not, as at this point ends our story of the Rival Nightcaps. THE STORY OF CLARA DOUGLAS. BY WALTER LOGAN. "The maid that loves, Goes out to sea upon a shattered plank, And puts her trust in miracles for safety."--_Old Play._