The Vagabond has given up his bounding and sauntering about these days for countless reasons, one of which, or perchance several, are the divisional examinations in Shakespeare, the Bible, and Ancient Authors all of which are looming large on the horizon to plague the prodigal senior. In fact, this valiant columnist forgets all about lending his expert tutelage in matters pertaining to interesting lectures, and seriously sets about the business of aiding the fourth year men in jumping this rather nasty curricular hurdle.

In his own quiet way he made a quite thorough investigation of how to pass these things. First, he slithered up the steps of the Widow to see how matters went along there. Prying with praiseworthy dispatch, albeit with unnecessary quietude, into the files he found that the amiable Old Lady was never had one of her devotees flunk. Encouraging news, to put it mildly.

But never let it be uttered, that the Vagabond, erudite gentleman that he is, forthwith abandoned his quest. Not so. Instead he made a valiant effort to get in the mood for these mental hazzards. For instance, he very adroitly hung in the wings while Miss Jane Cowl waved her hands and wrists about the zenith as Olivia in "Twelfth Night" which is occupying the foot-lights at the Wilbur (current advertising in this column is 90 cents per inch). That disposed of the Bard. As for Monsieur Homer (even if the nomenclature is a mixed metaphor) he perched over a super-hetrodyne for the Sharkey-Campolo affair and that little detail cleared up the Iliad. He even attempted to get into the mood of the Greek drama but-somewhere or other he has learned that the needy catchword for the theatre of Sophocles is "simplicity." He tried, yes and diligently, but whoever could attain quiet and simplicity amid the thundering cement-grinders, seemingly banal excavations, and unutterable chaos mixed with modern Georgian architecture which has flooded the Cantabrigtan shores? His advice is to take "The New Criterion," and call it a day.