He climbs full many a steep, stone stair,
He enters a large, long room;
There sits a party with grizzled hair, -
Some officer, I presume.
The tall young Proctor, smiling again,
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Sits down and writes with a rapid pen : -
"Whittington, Junior, Matthews, -,
Doubtless with bad intention,
Dodged a snowball, for which mad prank
I recommend suspension."
The Proctor laughs with uproarious glee ;-
The spell is broken, and I am free.
C. A. M.