Inspired as he may be by his mission of bringing light into whatever intellectual shadows of doubt can be admitted to exist in and about the Yard, the Vagabond is of too sensitive a nature to remain long indifferent to popular sentiment. For some days he has been noticing a distinct lessening of the bond of sympathy between himself and the rest of the college, and yesterday he realized that it had dissipated entirely when a comprehensive exposition of the relative merits of three rival ten o'clocks was interrupted by an entirely irrelevant query as to whether eight minutes was enough to get from Harvard Square to the Back Bay station. With things in such a sad state, it is evident that the time has come to shut up shop. So today the shutters go up on the Vagabond's windows, the clock is stopped and the typewriter given to the janitor' for his Christmas present.

Curious friends have often been anxious to know whether the Vagabond goes into hibernation during the months that intervene before a second term opens or whether he remains about the college to haunt the scones of his former glory. To such unimaginative souls he can quote Shakespeare that "There are more things in Heaven and earth Horation, than are dreamt of in your philosophy" and the Vagabond would have little right to his claims of superior knowledge if he had not managed to discover enough of the more pleasant kind to keep him occupied during the leisure period. So he expects to enjoy quite as merry a Christmas as the one he now wishes his followers, and only reminds them that if they follow the parting advice of one of the Vagabond's favorite professors in his last lecture to "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may", it is well worth the extra effort to pick a thornless variety.