"
What an imposing figure he is! The silk gown adorned with velvet
sleeves; the white bands round his neck denoting the sanctity of his
office; his sturdy attendants: are they not calculated to overawe the
frivolous undergraduate?
Following him through the streets, into billiard-room and restaurant,
one moralises on the sad necessity that compels this splendid dignitary
to play the part of a common policeman. But there is little time for
thought. On we go, on our painful mission. Suddenly the keen-eyed
"bull-dog" crosses the street, for an undergraduate has just come forth
from a tobacconist's shop. He is wearing cap and gown, and--oh, heinous
offence--he puffs the "herba nicotiana."
The Proctor steps forward (for smoking in Academical dress is sternly
forbidden) and, producing a note-book, vindicates thus the dignity of
the law.
"Are you a member of this University, sir?" The offender murmurs that
he is. "Your name and college, sir. I must trouble you to call upon me
at nine a.m. to-morrow." Then, with raised cap and ceremonious bow, the
Proctor leaves his victim to speculate mournfully on what the morrow
will bring forth.
Pages:
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196