faithful body-guard, and look once more upon the ceremony of
"proctorisation."

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.

Forward! and we move on once more in quest of offenders against the
"statutes." What curious reading some of these statutes afford! We seem
to get a whiff from bygone ages as we read the enactment condemning the
practice of wearing the hair long as unworthy the University; and
equally curious is the provision that forbids the student to carry any
weapon save a bow and arrow.

But let us continue our journey. Tramp, tramp, tramp! No wonder we find
the streets empty: our echoing footsteps give the alarm. But soon we
make another capture. This time the undergraduate seeks refuge in
flight, but in vain. "Fast" though he is, the bull-dog is faster; and
the Proctor enters another name in his note-book. Let him who runs read.

On we go; now visiting the railway station--favourite hunting-ground of
the Proctor--now waiting while the theatre discharges its contents; for
there the gownless student abounds and the Proctor's heart grows merry.

Here a prisoner states that he is Jones, of Jesus. Vain subterfuge!
Though there be many Welshmen at Jesus College, and many of its alumni
bear the name of Jones, yet are you not of their number. So says the
Proctor, a don of Jesus; and the pseudo Jones wishes that he had not
bee