Just when the “oppidans” began to take their place is by no means certain; but it could not have been very long after the foundation, for there is actually in existence the letter of an “oppidan” written in the year 1467, forty years after the opening. It is a very interesting letter, written to the boy’s elder brother, and enclosing for his inspection a specimen of the writer’s Latin verses (the making of Latin verse has always been a speciality at Eton). The letter also suggests the forwarding of “12 lbs. of figgs and 8 lbs. of raisins,” so, you see, boys were boys even in those far-off days. Many of Eton’s most picturesque customs have either died out or been suppressed by the authorities. One of the more famous of these was “Montem,” given up in 1847. On a certain day, once every three years, the scholars marched in procession to Salt Hill—that is, to “the mountain” (_ad montem_ means “to the mountain”); and there certain of their number made a collection of money from all and sundry, giving little pieces of salt in exchange. Usually royalty from Windsor met them there, and contributed generously to the fund. “Montem” was a gay festival, for fancy-dress was the order of the day, and there was plenty of noise and colour as the merry procession made its way up the hill to the music of several bands, followed by a crowd of visitors. In 1846 the authorities decided to put an end to the celebration, because with the coming of the railway to Windsor an unwelcome crowd of excursionists presented itself each year, and the picturesque gathering degenerated into a vulgar rabble. One old custom which still survives is “Threepenny Day.” On the 27th day of February each year, the anniversary of the death of a Provost named Lupton, builder of the picturesque gateway, each of the “collegers” receives a bright new threepenny-bit, provision for which is made in a sum of money left by Lupton and another Provost. Eton, like that other and older seat of learning to which many Etonians make the journey up the valley, gains much from its nearness to the River, for swimming and rowing are two favourite pastimes with the boys of this school. The latter pastime reaches its zenith on the “fourth of June”—the great day which Eton keeps in honour of George III.’s birthday. Then the College is besieged by hundreds of relatives and friends, and there is a fine water-carnival on the River. CHAPTER EIGHT _Hampton Court_ Nearly twenty miles below Windsor we come upon the ancient palace of Hampton, better known in these days as Hampton Court, beautifully situated among tall trees not far from the river bank. It is a wonderful old place—one of the nation’s priceless possessions—and once inside we are loth to leave it, for there is something attractive about its quaint old courtyards and its restful, bird-haunted gardens.