“There wur running for a peg too, and they as could ketch ’un and hang ’un up by the tayl, had ’un. The girls, too, run races for smocks--a deal of pastime, to be sure, Sir. There wur climmin’ a grasy pole for a leg of mutton, too; and backsoordin’, and wrastlin’, and all that, ye knows, Sir. A man by the name of Blackford, from the low countries, Zummersetshire, or that waay some weres, he won the prize, and wur counted the best hand for years arter, and no man couldn’t break his yead; but at last, nigh about twenty years arter, I’ll warn[28] ’twur--at Shrin’um Revel, Harry Stanley, the landlord of the Blawin’ Stwun, broke his yead, and the low-country men seemed afeard o’ Harry round about here for long arter that. Varmer Small-bwones of Sparsholt, a mazin’ stout man, and one as scarce no wun go where ’a would could drow down, beaat all the low-country chaps at wrastlin’, and none could stan’ agean ’un. And so he got the neam o’ Varmer Greaat Bwones. ’Twur only when he got a drap o’ beer a leetle too zoon, as he wur ever drowed at wrastlin’, but they never drowed ’un twice, and he had the best men come agean ’un for miles. This wur the first pastime as I well remembers, but there med ha’ been some afore, for all as I knows. I ha’ got a good memorandum, Sir, and minds things well when I wur a bwoy, that I does. I ha’ helped to dress the White Hoss myself, and a deal o’ work ’tis to do’t as should be, I can asshure ’ee, Sir. About Claay Hill, ’twixt Fairford and Ziziter, I’ve many a time looked back at ’un, and ’a looks as nat’ral as a pictur, Sir.” Between 1785 and 1803 there must have been at least two Scourings, but somehow none of the old men could remember the exact years, and they seemed to confuse them with those that came later on, and though I looked for them in old county papers, I could not find any notice of them. At the Scouring of 1803, Beckingham of Baydon won the prize at wrestling; Flowers and Ellis from Somersetshire won the prize at backsword play; the waiter at the Bell Inn, Farringdon, won the cheese race, and at jumping in sacks; and Thomas Street, of Niton, won the prize for grinning through horse collars, “but,” as my informant told me, “a man from Woodlands would ha’ beaat, only he’d got no teeth. This geaam made the congregation laaf ’mazinly.”