When he started upon his wanderings early this fall, the Vagabond planned for himself a general itinerary, a prospectus, so to speak, of the organization and direction of his journey. Fearing for his eyesight-for it has been falling somewhat-and the feeling that the added burden of spectacles would be more than his depleted circumstances would bear comfortably, he had decided to be at least as much of a vagabond as a student and occasionally tread upon the sweet, scented pathways of wholly useless enjoyment.

But here is another one of those frequent cases when Burn's famous works about the plans of mice and men holds true. Some will of course say that the Vagabond has been restricting himself solely to intellectual pursuits to ward off the wrath of those whose thunder bolts are so prone to descend upon the poor benighted during the dreary hours of November examinations. That, indeed, is not the case-and with a weekend directly upon us need anyone be important and enquire further?

For no time is so admirably suited for amusements requiring a lack of thought as a work end provided one's conscience is not hard of hearing and has a weak voice. One may sleep a good part of the morning, and then having breakfasted, read a newspaper. In these two exercises no difficulty will be found. Then in the afternoon we have a football game, for which as a matter of fact a clouded and obtuse mind is often a distinct advantage, though it avoids embarrassment to remember the final score, and in the evening there are always the gilded palaces of the silver screen where the spectator may be a vicarious hero just as in the Stadium, and with as little trouble.