The Vagabond, always a hop, skip and jump ahead of his competitors--which may or may not account for his wandering predilections--is already casting a speculative eye toward the future. Not too far, for the matters of the moment have an unpleasant habit of intruding themselves between the time when he can again meander in a carefree manner over the well-greased boardwalks of the Yard to flounder at the feet of learning. And not too near. The genial scout too willingly holds close to his heart the vicissitudes of his young proteges these bleak days of January.

In short, the Vagabond means that void between the end of examinations and the beginning of the next term. Most undergraduates have anywhere from a week to ten days of freedom with nothing in prospect but a bacchanalian wassail or a scant jaunt to the hearth of his childhood. Both of these have their disadvantages. The first, purely aside from constitutional controversy, is bound to grow tiresome as a steady diet, and the latter very likely proves an unwonted strain on the purse-strings.

So, at last the Vagabond, a true Odysseus in word as well as action, comes to the point, which is his belief that a little light reading entirely disassociated from all academic connections, will serve to pass the long winter evenings and the moments between.

As a first suggestion he offers "Is Sex Necessary?" a delightful parody on the steadily accumulating mass of literature, smacking strongly of Freud and driving the debonair dandy and the dilettantish debutante into a maze of inhibitions and high-priced psychiatrists. This clever satire, minus the usual steel edge, will, the Vagabond is convinced, be an excellent defense mechanism against the strongest pent-up fixation. It is funny.

Some day when he has lots of time maybe next summer this valiant columnist is going to begin a Russian revival. He has an unbounded faith in the literary excellence of their novels, and a sneaking supposition that they are not too widely read in this country. Although it is neither new nor meant for light skimming, as a last choice and without further remarks he presents. "The Brothers Karamazov" by Fyodor Dostoevsky.