1828. The Shan. 389 
he is May’s pet ; but amongst ourselves, and those who are used to his 
appearance, he has reached the point of favouritism in his own person. I 
have, in common with wiser women, the feminine weakness of loving 
whatever loves me—and, therefore, like Dash. His master has found 
out that Dash is a capital finder, and, in spite of his lameness, will hunt 
a field or beat a cover with any spaniel in England—and, therefore, he 
likes Dash. The boy has fought a battle, in defence of his beauty, with 
another boy, bigger than himself, and beat his opponent most handsomely 
—and, therefore, he likes Dash ; and the maids like him, or pretend to 
like him, because we do—as is the fashion of that pliant and imitative 
class. And now Dash and May follow us every where, and are going 
with us now to the Shaw, as I said before—or rather to the cottage by 
the Shaw, to bespeak milk and butter of our little dairy-woman, Hannah 
Bint—a housewifely occupation, to which we owe some of our pleasantest 
rambles. 
And now we pass the sunny, dusty village street—who would have 
thought, a month ago, that we should complain of sun and dust again ! 
—and turn the corner where the two great oaks hang so beautifully over 
the clear deep pond, mixing their cool green shadows with the bright 
blue sky, and the white clouds that flit over it ; and loiter at the wheeler’s 
shop, always picturesque, with its tools, and its work, and its materials, 
all so various in forra, and so harmonious in colour ; and its noisy, merry 
workmen, hammering and singing, and making a various harmony 
also. The shop is rather empty to-day, for its usual inmates are busy on 
the green beyond the pond—one set building a cart, another painting a 
waggon. And then we leave the village quite behind, and proceed 
slowly up the cool, quiet lane, between tall hedge-rows of the darkest 
verdure, overshadowing banks green and fresh as an emerald. 
Not so quick as I expected, though—for they are shooting here to-day, 
as Dash and I have both discovered: he with great delight, for a gun to 
him is as a trumpet to a war-house; I with no less annoyance, for I 
don’t think that a partridge itself, barring the accident of being killed, 
can be more startled than I at that abominable explosion. Dash has 
certainly better blood in his veins than any one would guess to look at 
him. He even shews some inclination to elope into the fields, in pursuit 
of those noisy iniquities. But he is an orderly person, after all, and a 
word has checked him. 
Ab! here is a shriller din mingling with the small artillery—a shriller 
and more continuous. We are not yet arrived within sight of Master 
Weston’s cottage, snugly hidden behind a clump of elms; but we are 
in full hearing of Dame Weston’s tongue, raised as usual to scolding- 
itch. The Westons are new arrivals inour neighbourhood, and the first 
thing heard of them was a complaint from the wife to our magistrate of 
her husband’s beating her : it was a regular charge of assault—an inform, 
ation in full form. A most piteous case did Dame Weston make of it, 
softening her voice for the nonce into a shrill tremulous whine, and 
exciting the mingled pity and anger—pity towards herself, anger towards 
her husband—of the whole female world, pitiful and indignant as the 
female world is wont to be on such occasions. Every woman in the 
parish railed at Master Weston ; and poor Master Weston was summoned 
to attend the bench on the ensuing Saturday, and answer the charge ; 
and such was the clamour abroad and at home, that the unlucky culprit, 
terrified at the sound of a warrant and a constable, ran away, and was 
not heard of for a fortnight. 
