“I will not attempt to reason with you about the pleasures of Montem,” said an old Etonian, who was defending the old festival against the attacks of one of those hawk-eyed commercial gamblers who, calling themselves “business men,” dominate the modern world; “but to an Etonian it is enough that it brought pure and ennobling recollections--evoked associations of hope and happiness--and made even the wise feel that there was something better than wisdom, and the rich something nobler than wealth. I like to think of the faces I saw round the old mount, recalling school friendships and generous rivalries. At the last Montem I attended, it is true I saw fifty fellows of whom I remember only the nicknames--not a few degenerated into scheming M.P.’s, cunning lawyers, or speculators--but at Montem one forgot all that. Leaving the plodding world of reality for one day, such men regained the dignity of Sixth-Form Etonians.” The last celebration of Montem took place on Whitsun-Tuesday in 1844, on which occasion some of its ancient features were altered. The dinner, for instance, took place on Fellow’s Eyot, within the College precincts, instead of at Salt Hill, the boys having also to answer to their names in the playing fields. An ominous sign, which seemed to forebode that the ancient ceremony was soon to be discontinued for ever, was that in the last year of Montem the famous cry of “Montem Sure” was not heard to ring out of the Long Chamber windows, no bedsteads crashed, and no shutters banged. Montem, it is true, still lived, but it seemed to be felt that its end was near. Nevertheless, the procession took place according to immemorial usage, and the fancifully attired throng of boys, accompanied by a crowd of carriages, foot and horse, wended its way to the classic mount where the ceremonial which countless generations of Etonians had gone through was duly performed. Prince Albert, for instance, was stopped on Windsor Bridge, and in compliance with a request for salt, gave £100. At Salt Hill the bands played merrily, and the crowd of boys and old Etonians cheered as of yore when, for the last time on the summit of the mount the Ensign waved the historic College banner, inscribed with the quaint old motto, _Pro More et Monte_. Not a few, however, amongst the throng gathered there had a presentiment that they were assisting at the obsequies of the time-honoured ceremony, and as they wended their way back to town felt that Montem was now to be numbered with the many other old-world festivals which so-called progress was sweeping away.