an’ I don’t say you’d be wrong.
But jest you stop an’ ax hes motives, an’
you’ll find ‘taint religion. Lor’
bless ’ee, sir, a bull’s got no more use
for religion than a toad for side-pockets. ’Tes
obstinacy—that’s what ’tes.
You tells me a jackass es obstinate. Well,
an’ that’s true in a way; and so’s
a hog. Ef you wants quiet contrariness, a jackass
or a hog’ll both sit out a bull; an’
tho’ you may cuss the pair till you sweats like
a fuz’-bush on a dewy mornin’, ‘tes
like heavin’ bricks into a bott’mless
pit. But a bull ups an’ lets ’ee
know; there aint no loiterin’ round an’
arrangin’ yer subjec’ under heads when
he’s about. You don’t get
no pulpit; an’, what’s more, you don’t
stop to touch your hat when you makes your congees.
’Tes just pull hot-foot, and thank the Lord
for hedges; ‘cos he’s so full o’
his own notions as a Temp’rance speaker, an’
bound to convence ’ee, ef he rams daylight in
‘ee to do et. That’s a bull.
An’ here’s anuther p’int; he lays
head to ground when hes beliefs be crossed, an’
you may so well whissle as try the power o’
the human eye—talkin’ o’ which
puts me i’ mind o’ some curious fac’s
as happ’n’d up to Penhellick wan time,
along o’ this same power o’ the human eye.
Maybe you’d like to hear the yarn.”
“Eh?” Mr. Fogo roused himself from his
abstraction. “Yes, certainly, I should
like to hear it.”
Caleb knocked his pipe meditatively against the bars
of the grate; filled it again and lit it; took an
energetic pull or two, and then, after another hard
look at his master across the clouds of smoke, began
without more ado.
OF A WESLEYAN MINISTER THAT WOULD IMPROVE UPON NATURE, AND THEREBY
TRAINED A ROOK TO GOOD PRINCIPLES.
“Well, sir, et all happen’d when I lived
up to Penhellick, an’ worked long wi’
Varmer Mennear. Ould Lawyer Mennear, as he was
a-nicknamed—a little cribbage-faced man,
wi’ a dandy-go-russet wig, an’ on’y
wan eye: leastways, he hadn’ but wan fust
along when I knowed ‘n. That’s what
the yarn’s about, tho’; so us’ll
go slow, ef you plaise, an’ hush a bit, as Mary
Beswetherick said to th’ ingine-driver.
“Now, Lawyer Mennear was a circuit-preacher,
o’ the Wesleyan Methody persuash’n, tho’
he’d a-got to cross-pupposes wi’ the rest
o’ the brethren an’ runned a sect all
to hissel’, which he called th’ United
Free Church o’ ’Rig’nal Seceders.
They was called ’Rig’nal Seceders for
short, an’ th’ ould man had a toler’ble
dacent followin’, bein’ a fust-class mover
o’ souls an’ powerful hot agen th’
unregenrit, which didn’ prevent hes bein’
a miserable ould varmint, an’ so deep as Garrick
in hes ord’nary dealin’s. Aw, he
was a reg’lar split-fig, an’ ‘ud
go where the devil can’t, an’ that’s
atween the oak an’ the rind.”
“I see,” said Mr. Fogo.
