Word: vac
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Dates: during 1940-1949
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Poison for the Girls. In 1940, the Federal Food & Drug Administration was conducting a drive against "abortion pastes." During a routine checkup, an inspector discovered that Faiman was selling a violet-colored, sweet-smelling paste called "Metro-Vac" containing a poisonous metallic salt. It induced abortions all right, just as many powerful drugs will. But the FDA considers the preparation one of the most dangerous in existence. If the active drug gets into the bloodstream (as it often does), the patient dies...
Never before, as far as the oldest Old Oxonian could recall, had the University Congregation been convened during the "Long Vac." But last week, with almost a month of vacation still ahead, the Hebdomadal Council (Oxford's "cabinet") summoned a special session of Congregation (the academic legislature). To the black-gowned, curious dons, Dean John Lowe of Christ Church broke an exciting piece of news...
...Weather Ahead. Postwar Oxford's swollen enrollment is now giving Lewis too much to do to spare him time for extracurricular writing. During the "long vac" this summer he has been hard at work on his volume for "Oh-Hell," which is Oxford's name for the Oxford History of English Literature (still in preparation). During the college year ahead, in addition to his crowded lectures, he will also be busy "tooting" his 18-odd tutorial pupils. At regular intervals they will come, singly or in pairs, to read him their essays in his handsome, white-paneled college...
...knows it has a vice-chancellor, and that the vice-chancellor runs the University,* but few can tell his name. Ask an unsuspecting undergraduate who Sir Richard Livingstone is and the chances are he will murmur something about Stanley in Africa. Last week, as Oxford slumbered in the "long vac" and Sir Richard hied himself to Ireland for a holiday, the Atlantic Monthly gave its U.S. readers (who know him even less than Oxonians do) a chance to meet one of education's most articulate thinkers...
...bitter. "I expected you," said he, coldly fixing his eyes on a human skull resting in a bowl of roses, "to make some mistakes your first year. We all do. I got in with some thoroughly objectionable . . . men who ran a mission to hop-pickers in the long vac. But you, my dear Charles . . . have gone straight hook, line and sinker, into the very worst set in the University. . . . There's that chap Sebastian Flyte you seem inseparable from. . . . [He] looks odd to me. ... Of course, they're an odd family...