Word: proctor
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Dates: during 1870-1879
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...seems to me that it is about time that something should be said in defence of that much-maligned creature the proctor. The violent censure and scathing sarcasm that have been hurled upon his defenceless head for weeks past have entirely destroyed his nervous system. He has grown prematurely old. I dare say that a close observer could detect a few straggling gray hairs in his head. No more do we hear the sound of the "squeaking boots" ; his manly tread is silenced. 'T is pitiful to see him moping on the corners with his brothers, or sitting with...
...fire catching near the stairs and getting a good headway would not cause a repetition of those sickening scenes becoming so familiar to every newspaper reader. We have little faith in the efficacy of the legendary Bab-cock Extinguisher at any hour in the night in the proctor's room at another part of the building; we even doubt if the new fire-ladders would be on hand promptly, not to say well managed; and the leisurely way the Cambridge Fire Department proceeds to a fire inspires us with no confidence. So, as far as we can see, the alternative...
TAKEN as a whole, the proctors in examinations have, with a few exceptions, acquitted themselves so far rather creditably, - that is, compared with other years, when to judge from the unmistakable earnestness of some complaints which found their way into the College papers, their conduct did not give undivided satisfaction. Therefore we flatter ourselves that, high authority to the contrary notwithstanding, the College press is not without some appreciable influence. This year these literary policemen of ours have not conversed in tones which would disturb men outside of a radius of twenty feet, nor have they dropped the long window...
...youths fell into line and marched to prayers, as I was told, to the tune of "Believe me if all these endearing." Mr. Poco kindly pointed out the popular men, but an old friend suddenly called him, and he left me somewhat abruptly, after introducing me to a Mr. Proctor, who seemed like one of my own class, and with whom I felt at once quite at home...
...many of the undergraduates had buttonhole bouquets, but some poor fellows could n't afford this, and had little ribbons instead; I asked their names, but Mr. Proctor knew none. He advised me to go over to Appleton Lyceum to hear the exercises, which were very intellectual. I could understand some of the Poem, but the other parts were exceedingly deep. When these were ended we all went out to the Boylston Museum, and the class buried a tree...