“The custom of hunting the Ram belonged to Eton College, as well as the custom of Salt; but it was discontinued by Dr. Cook, late Dean of Ely. Now this custom we know to have been entered on the register of the Royal Abbey of Bec, in Normandy, as one belonging to the Manor of East or Great Wrotham, in Norfolk, given by Ralph de Toni to the Abbey of Bec, and was as follows:—When the harvest was finished the tenants were to have half an acre of barley, and a ram let loose; and if they caught him he was their own to make merry with; but if he escaped from them he was the Lord’s. The Etonians, in order to secure the ram, houghed him in the Irish fashion, and then attacked him with great clubs. The cruelty of this proceeding brought it into disuse, and now it exists no longer.—See Register of the Royal Abbey of Bec, folio 58. “After the dissolution of the alien priories, in 1414, by the Parliament of Leicester, they remained in the Crown till Henry VI., who gave Wrotham Manor to Eton College; and if the Eton Fellows would search, they would perhaps find the Manor in their possession, that was held by the custom of Salt.” * * * * * MEN. Alderman Bursal, Father of young Bursal. Lord John, Talbot, Wheeler, Bursal, Rory O’Ryan } Young Gentlemen of Eton, from 17 to 19 years of age. Mr. Newington, Landlord of the Inn at Salt Hill. Farmer Hearty. A Waiter and crowd of Eton Lads. WOMEN. The Marchioness of Piercefield, Mother of Lord John. Lady Violetta—her Daughter, a Child of six or seven years old. Mrs. Talbot. Lousia Talbot, her Daughter. Miss Bursal, Daughter to the Alderman. Mrs. Newington, Landlady of the Inn at Salt Hill. Sally, a Chambermaid. Patty, a Country Girl. Pipe and Tabor, and Dance of Peasants. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I. _The Bar of the_ “_Windmill Inn_” _at Salt Hill_. MR. _and_ MRS. NEWINGTON, _the Landlord and Landlady_. _Landlady_. ’Tis an unpossibility, Mr. Newington; and that’s enough. Say no more about it; ’tis an unpossibility in the natur of things. (_She ranges jellies_, _etc._, _in the Bar_.) And pray, do you take your great old fashioned tankard, Mr. Newington, from among my jellies and confectioneries. _Landlord_ (_takes his tankard and drinks_). Anything for a quiet life. If it is an impossibility, I’ve no more to say; only, for the soul of me, I can’t see the great unpossibility, wife. _Landlady_. Wife, indeed!—wife!—wife! wife every minute. _Landlord_. Heyday! Why, what a plague would you have me call you? The other day you quarrelled with me for calling you Mrs. Landlady. _Landlady_. To be sure I did, and very proper in me I should. I’ve turned off three waiters and five chambermaids already, for screaming after me _Mrs. Landlady_! _Mrs. Landlady_! But ’tis all your ill manners. _Landlord_. Ill manners! Why, if I may be so bold, if you are not Mrs. Landlady, in the name of wonder what are you?