The Vagabond's cool and rather quiet summer spent in the fastness of a Greenland valley has come to an abrupt close. Cambridge with its heat, dust and Tercentenary-isms, he must admit, is rather an abrupt change from the invigorating freshness of the Arctic summer. But it seems that the season for vagabonding has begun once again, so the pleasures of a past summer will have to join the shows of yesteryear and the present situation dispatched as efficiently as possible.

Up among the care-free Greenlanders the atmosphere had a pleasant languor which seems to be rather lacking in Cambridge this fall. Of course, the Square, since the Vagabond's day has always been something of a cross betwen a boiler-works and a bedlam, but the solemn quiet of the Yard seems to have been rather unceremoniously encroached upon. Way up in the North one can't expect to be up on all of the latest developments, so it was with considerable surprise, and just a tinge of regret, that the Vagabond observed the new building operations on the Yard side of Massachusetts avenue. With the increasing demands of more production and that sort of thing. It is probably quite natural for the utilitarian motives to be predominant in the minds of those who plan the destinies of modern institutions. Nevertheless, that fast disappearing openness that made the Yard a relief from the jumbled crowdedness of Cambridge will always be a pleasant memory to the "old timers." And in addition to this regret, the Vagabond can't help feeling slightly sympathetic for those future Harvard men who are to live in the quarters now being constructed. The long sojourn in the shack at Lowell House while in the process of being built gave the Vagabond some idea of the extent and annoyance of noise. Of course that was only in the day time, but even then there was considerable disturbance. On the uninviting shores of Massachusetts Avenue with its constant stream of rather noisy commerce the situation assumes Gargantuan proportions, but that remains in the future.

Here, in the immediate present, however, there are more pleasant objects to contemplate. First there are the new houses, a sort of a coat of many colors arrangement, but nevertheless, very attractive from across the river. Then there is the great cavity where once the Power House predominated. Instead of the two inevitable smokestacks one can see the cupola of Smith Halls, slightly tarnished and weather-beaten, perhaps, but still a distinct improvement. But it is high time to call a halt to this contemplation of Cambridge's rapid architectural metamorphosis and settle down to the duties of the coming year. With lectures to begin Wednesday there is no time to lose, for just around the corner lurk the wheels of knowledge just on the point of starting their nine month's grind.