An immense quantity of names are cut on the woodwork of Upper School. Most of these are those of boys who became famous in after life. The name of Charles James Fox, for instance, is to be seen beneath his bust. Gladstone’s may easily be recognised among a number of other names of the same family by the fact that there was not sufficient room left for the whole name, and consequently the last three letters are cut much smaller than the rest. Lord Roberts’s name is on the large south door, and Shelley’s under Lord Wellesley’s bust, to the right, and again high up, to the left, beneath his own bust. Gladstone’s name, it should be added, is on the upper right-hand panel of the door which stands to the left as you face the Headmaster’s desk in the Upper School. His sons have their names cut on the same door close by. This carving was not done by Gladstone himself, but by Dr. Keate’s servant in requital for a fee. Originally boys, before leaving, cut their names where they liked in Upper School. Later on, as in the writer’s time, it was the custom on leaving to present the Headmaster’s servant with a guinea to have this done. The present practice seems to be that for half a guinea a specially appointed official cuts a boy’s name. Close to Upper School, on the top of the staircase leading to the Headmaster’s room, may be seen the name Lord Dalmeny cut twice on the left, opposite the door; the older is that of Lord Rosebery, the newer that of his son. [SN: LOWER SCHOOL] The original Eton schoolroom was the present Lower School, which happily remains practically in its original state. The exact date of its erection is uncertain, but it would appear to have been built somewhere about the end of the fourteenth century. According to an old tradition Lower School was once the College stables, and it was Sir Henry Wotton who, when Provost, fitted it up with pillars, on which he is supposed to have painted pictures of Greek and Roman authors for the instruction of the boys. This quaint old room was formerly open for its full length, and looked very picturesque with its double row of oaken pillars supporting the floor of the chamber above, and deeply recessed windows, the oaken shutters, as well as the pillars, graven with the names of former Etonians. For two centuries it was the only schoolroom. In recent times, for convenience of teaching, it has been turned into three rooms by means of deal partitions. These, however, being merely temporary erections, have not injured the ancient fabric of the room. Many generations of boys have amused themselves by poking pens and knives into the deep chinks of the pillars and spearing out bits of paper that had been thrust in there by boys of bygone times. Mr. Brinsley Richards has described how, as a boy at Eton, he extracted the fragment of a play-bill, issued by a strolling troupe who performed at Windsor Fair in 1769. In the writer’s day many a boy, unconsciously