om France. I was just a-comin' to luk for 'ee.
Where's your easy-all and your umbrella?"

Mr. Fogo told his story.

"H'm!" said Caleb, "an' Tamsin saw 'ee home?"

"Yes; and by the way, Caleb, you may as well take down that notice
to-morrow."

"H'm!" muttered Caleb again. "You're quite sure thicky coddysel
won't do?"

"Quite."

"Very well, sir," said Caleb, and began to busy himself with the
evening meal. But he looked curiously at his master more than once
during the evening. Mr. Fogo spent most of his time in a brown
study, smoking and gazing abstractedly into the fire. Caleb also
smoked (it was one of his privileges), and finally, with an anxious
glance, and two or three hard puffs at his pipe, broke the silence--

"The bull es a useful animal, an' when dead supplies us wi'
rump-steaks an' shoe-horns, as the Sunday-school book says: but for
all that there's suthin' _lackin'_ to a bull. 'Tain't conviction:
you niver seed a bull yet as wasn' chuck-full o' conviction, an'
didn' act up to hes rights, such as they be. An' 'tain't
consistency: you drill a notion into a bull's head an' fix et, an'
he'll save et up, may be for six year, an' then rap et out on 'ee
till you'm fairly sick for your own gad-about ways. 'Tes logic he
wants, I reckon--jest logic. A bull, sir, es no more'n a mass o'
blind onreas'ning prejudice from horn to tail. Take hes sense o'
colour: he can't abide red. Ef you press the matter, there ain't no
more reas'n for this than that hes father afore him cudn' abide et;
but how does he act? 'Hulloa!' says he, 'there's a party in red, an'
I don't care a tinker's cuss whether 'tes a mail-cart or a
milisha-man: I'm bound to stop this 'ere taste for red ef I dies nex'
minnit.' And at et he goes accordin'. Ef he seed the Scarlet Woman
about in his part o' the country, he'd lay by an' h'ist her, an'
you'd say, 'Well done!' 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
l