“Well, William had to turn about and play on, willy-nilly; and ’twas only three o’clock in the world and ’a knowed that nobody would come that way for hours, and he so leery and tired that ’a didn’t know what to do. When he’d scraped till about four o’clock he felt that he verily would have to give over soon, and he said to himself, ‘There’s only this last tune between me and eternal welfare. Heaven save me, or I’m a done man.’ Well, then he called to mind how he’d seed the cattle kneel o’ Christmas Eves in the dead o’ the night. It was not Christmas Eve then, but it came into his 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.”