"Folks could play well enough when I war a boy," and then old Timothy began to tell me of the old "plays" as he called them. "This place, 'Old Wenlock,' as us used to call it, war cheery, and jolly, in grandam's days," he told me. "Every spring there wud come a man with a bull. Many is the one, I have heard her say, was baited in this spot, just outside the doors. The farmers and colliers from Ironbridge would bring their dogs, and have three days' drinking and amusement. And," continued old Timothy, "he war a mighty fine man as cud count as his the best bull dog about. Now folks be proud of their cricket, and of their football matches, but the games can't touch the old sports." Then after a pause, old Timothy said solemnly, "It war a terrible undoing of England puttin' down the old plays. I mind," the old man added, "how mad dad war when they put down the bull-baiting at Ellesmere. There used, in the old times, to be grand goings on there. Well, one Wake Monday, Mr. Clarke, 'the captain' as they called him, put that down. Tom Byollin, I've heard dad say, war leaden' the bull round pretty nigh smothered in ribbons, as war the good old custom, when the captain 'e comes up and 'e said, 'What be goin' to do with that there bull?' 'Bait 'im,' said Tom, 'we allus bait a bull at Wake's. 'Tis our Christian custom.' But the captain he wudn't have it. He war allus a meally souled 'un, 'cording to dad, and one that left a good custom, to take up with a new one, and so he offered five pounds to Tom, and got round him by biddin' too a new pair of breeks--and so there war no bull-baiten. Tom was mortal hard up, I've heard, but to his dyin' day he regretted the job, and used to cry over his cups, because he had helped to ruin the land by doin' away with a good old practice." "Did you ever see a bull baited?" I asked old Timothy. [Sidenote: "A ROYAL DO"]