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 head to play a trick upon the bull. So he broke into the ’Tivity Hymn, just as at Christmas carol-singing; when, lo and behold, down went the bull on his bended knees, in his ignorance, just as if ’twere the true ’Tivity night and hour. As soon as his horned friend were down, William turned, clinked off like a long-dog, and jumped safe over hedge, before the praying bull had got on his feet again to take after him. William used to say that he’d seen a man look a fool a good many times, but never such a fool as that bull looked when he found his pious feelings had been played upon, and ‘twas not Christmas Eve. Yes, William Dewy, that was the man’s name; and I can tell ye to a foot where he’s a-lying in Mellstock Churchyard at this very moment—just between the second yew-tree and the north aisle.’

‘It’s a curious story; it carries us back to mediæval times, when faith was a living thing!’

The remark, singular for a dairy-yard, was murmured by the voice behind the dun cow; but as nobody understood the reference no notice was taken, except that the narrator seemed to think it might imply scepticism as to his tale.