A less assertive character than either of the two worthies mentioned above was old Brion or Bryant, a white-headed sock cad whose invariable costume was a grey coat. According to current report he had no less than twenty-one children. His speciality lay in purveying small glasses of cherry jam dashed with cream at fourpence, which must have yielded him a good profit. Bryant outdid the other sock cads in owning a huge barrow, which every day was wheeled to the wall. A portly, good-natured man, he was not as astute as Spankie, and consequently was frequently imposed upon by his young customers. Sometimes, however, he showed a keen aptitude for business. When, for instance, a little boy complained that he had given him but a small pennyworth of preserve in his jam-bun, he would evince the amiability of his intentions by saying, “I was afraid it might disagree with you, sir.” Another well-known character in the sixties of the last century was an old lady known as “Missis,” who sat by the entrance to the school-yard selling apples, nuts, bullfinches, and dormice. During more recent years there have been no sock cads of such marked individuality as those mentioned above, nor do they enjoy the privileges which were accorded to their predecessors of a more easy-going age, their appearance at the wall being discouraged. Some, however, still ply their trade in the playing fields and at the bathing-places. The most original of the modern school was “Hoppie.” Every portion of this worthy’s costume, according to his own account, had belonged to some prominent old Etonian. During the summer half he was a constant frequenter of “Upper Hope,” where perhaps he still parades “the Duke of Wellington’s coat” and “Lord Roberts’ trousers” as of yore. Thirty years ago there were several individuals known as “Jobey”--a name taken from almost the last of the old Eton characters, “Jobey Joel,” who died not very long ago. He remembered the school when far more latitude was allowed the boys, and had many a queer tale to tell of that vanished institution, the Christopher, now but a fading memory in the minds of a few. [SN: THE CHRISTOPHER] The ancient hostelry in question would seem to have flourished as long ago as the sixteenth century. The mention of a certain Nicholas Williams lodging “ad signum Christoferi” occurs in the Eton Audit Book for 1523. The old inn served as a refuge to the “ever memorable” Eton Fellow, John Hales, who for his unwavering allegiance to the King was deprived of his fellowship.