'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
loiterin' round an' arrangin' yer subjec' under heads when _he's_
about.
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