oving accessories are all in keeping with the
cheerfulness and repose of the landscape. Hannah's cow grazing quietly
beside the keeper's pony; a brace of fat pointer puppies holding
amicable intercourse with a litter of young pigs; ducks, geese, cocks,
hens, and chickens scattered over the turf; Hannah herself sallying
forth from the cottage-door, with her milk-bucket in her hand, and her
little brother following with the milking-stool.

My friend, Hannah Bint, is by no means an ordinary person. Her father,
Jack Bint (for in all his life he never arrived at the dignity of being
called John, indeed in our parts he was commonly known by the cognomen
of London Jack), was a drover of high repute in his profession. No man,
between Salisbury Plain and Smithfield, was thought to conduct a flock
of sheep so skilfully through all the difficulties of lanes and commons,
streets and high-roads, as Jack Bint, aided by Jack Bint's famous dog,
Watch; for Watch's rough, honest face, black, with a little white about
the muzzle, and one white ear, was as well known at fairs and markets
as his master's equally honest and weather-beaten visage. Lucky was
the dealer that could secure their services; Watch being renowned
for keeping a flock together better than any shepherd's dog on
the road--Jack, for delivering them more punctually, and in better
condition. No man had a more thorough knowledge of the proper night
stations, where good feed might be procured for his charge, and good
liquor for Watch and himself; Watch, like other sheep dogs, being
accustomed to live chiefly on bread and beer. His master, though not
averse to a pot of good double X, preferred gin; and they who plod
slowly along, through wet and weary ways, in frost and in fog, have
undoubtedly a stronger temptation to indulge in that cordial and
reviving stimulus, than we water-drinkers, sitting in warm and
comfortable rooms, can readily imagine. For certain, our drover could
never resist the gentle seduction of the gin-bottle, and being of a
free, merry, jovial temperament, one of those persons commonly called
good fellows, who like to see others happy in the same way with
themselves, he was apt to circulate it at his own expense, to the great
improvement of his popularity, and the great detriment of his finances.

All this did vastly well whilst his earnings continued proportionate to
his spendings, and the little family at home were comfortably supported
by his industry: