His name was Peter. "The ban-dogs!" thundered a tall man, whose stature and former avocations had procured him the nickname of "The long drover of the Borough market. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. " "No doubt," rejoined Wild, with a sneer; "but don't let all the world know it. I was—I was a corespondent. "He never let me keep a dog or a cat about the house.
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