4
THE BATTALION.
“Huh! I think you ought to turn’em over to the Bryan
authorities for theft,” said Prof. Spunce.
“But really,” interposed Prof. Peewee, “I don’t think
that the boys are as bad this year as before. On my last
analytics examination I postively know of twenty-seven men
who did not receive one particle of help.”
“How do you know that?” he was asked, for it was
very hard to believe such a thing of the Senior and Junior
classes.
“Because,” answered Prof. Peewee, “twenty-seven
blank papers were handed in.”
At this moment the eminent Doctor Dabfort Prown arose.
As he rose from his seat his importance was felt. Resting
his hand heavily upon the back of his chair he began with
calmness and deliberation.
“When I hear of all of these funny things being said, I
feel that I am called to say something. When I was a boy,
--it’s only a short sketch so you all may resume your seats”
(for several members had made a break for the door).
“When I was a boy, ponying was tome a regular nightmare.
Did people pity me? Nay, they gave me the horse laugh
and said that I was bug house. I admit that I was a little
buggy, but I didn’t kick and kept driving on with mulish
perseverance for I couldn’t bridle my desire one bit, so”
“Move that we adjourn,” fairly yelled the member in
the corner.
“And I second the motion,” said Professor Snagle, who