"Yes, mam," answered my old friend with pride, "when I war at Loppington, I have myself seen the sport, as quite a lad," and as he spoke old Timothy's eyes lighted up with excitement. "It war a royal do. For they had not only bulls, but bears. I mind me," he continued after a minute's hesitation, "as it war in 1825. There war great rejoicin's. Folks druv and came in from all parts, and it war a grand celebration, and all given because the parson's daughter war marryin' a squire. They said as the parson paid the costs hisself bang off, he was that pleased at his daughter's grand marriage. But then parsons _were_ parsons in those days. They rode, shot, and wrestled, besides preachin'. 'Tis true as there war a few what objected. Now at Madeley Wakes they had grand games on too. All the colliers, I've heard grandam say, used to come down and bet free and easy, like gentlemen born. Many was the time, I've heard 'em say, folks used to see the collier folks ranged down to make a lane like for the bull or bear to pass along. My word! as old Matt Dykes used to say. It war a mighty question which looked best, beast or dog, for when 'twas a bull, they only slipt one to a time. 'One dog one bull,' that war what they used to say to Madeley. "Oaken-Gates, I've heard say, war the last place where they baited the bull in Shropshire. And I allus say," said old Timothy, with a spark of enthusiasm, "that 'tis a mighty fine feather in the cap of that place, as it war the last as kept up the good old English sport." Then old Timothy went on to tell me "how the bull in 1833 at Madeley war a mighty game 'un, and tugged that ferocious at the stake, that he broke abroad stake and all, and with the chain charged down madly, and hurted several what war standing by." After a pause, old Timothy went on to tell me, "how for all the Vicar of Loppington war reasonable and right minded about the old sports, there war some even then, as had 'cakey' and queasy stomachs about such enjoyments." And he went on to say how Mr. Anstice of Madeley, and one Mortimer, as was vicar then, spoilt, in his own language, sport cruel. "It war in this way," continued the old man, "the bull, a proper beast, war baited three times; first, at the Horse Inn, then at Lincoln Hill, and lastly, on Madeley Wood Green. At the last bout, Squire Anstice and Parson Mortimer they comed up with a handful of constables, but there war hundreds of colliers and decent folks looking on, and I war told that they could have chawed up constables, squire, and vicar, if they had a mind." "And what saved 'em?" I asked eagerly. "Well," answered Maister Theobalds, "for all the vicar war a little 'un deformed, and some called him as dry as a chip, he had a mighty fine tongue, and though he'd hadn't grit enough to thresh a hen, he'd hadn't no mortal fear, and he stood up and pleaded and spoke same as if the bull had been his brother. And the bull war sent away." [Sidenote: "LAMB-LIKE TO PUPS"]