The Vagabond just made the dead-line with his copy last night, and it was only his stern sense of duty that makes it possible for his readers to peruse their favorite column this morning (courtesy of the Vagabond). He was many miles away, in the hither-flung regions of New Hampshire, to be exact, and was engrossed in taking a vacation. Business was a bit slack, so he wired his old friend, Dr. Hu Flung Huey, the able prognosticator, to come out of his mysterious retreat.... its whereabouts are known only to the Vagabond, his boon companion.... and off they went to the upper reaches of the White Mountains.

As a matter of fact, they didn't hit it off too well, and not for the first time. The Vagabond, looking at it fairly and squarely, without personal bias, as it were, is inclined to believe their differences were caused by incompatible vocations. For, whereas, the able Mr. Huey guesses at the outcome of sportive events and never goes to see them actually performed, this good columnist never attempts to outline in detail exactly what will take place, but rather hints at the subject matter and always attends. And furthermore he never permits himself any general observations on athletic combats.

So the two travellers.... charitably speaking, Dr. Huey is a traveller, but a rank amateur compared to the Vagabond.... had a violent disagreement when the Vagabond suggested they should drop off on the way to New Hampshire and visit the sesquicentennial (150 years, in translation) anniversary at Exeter. The Oriental Sage objected to the intrusion of business, emphasizing the fact that he had laid aside his plans to foretell the final scores of the Harvard-Princeton polo match and the Harvard-Holy Cross baseball duel. And here, the Vagabond must confess to a sad outcropping of a little hasty irritation. He wanted to hear President Lowell speak.... he has never missed hearing the President of Harvard since he's been writing copy for the CRIMSON.... and he didn't intend to spoil his record. So, in his petty anger, he unthinkingly insinuated that the Far East Philosopher was not moved by the altruistic impulses hitherto ascribed, but was avoiding another dud on the Holy Cross game (Dr. Huey picked Harvard to win easily last year) and, furthermore, didn't know a polo mallet from a wicker-basket. He concluded his remarks with the slur that the prophet had been out of practice, insofar as the sons of Nassau were concerned, for the past five years, and didn't know they even had a polo team.

Well, it's obvious from that, that the weekend was spoiled. They heard President Lowell speak and Dr. Huey disrupted the very estimable gathering by offering, in a loud voice, to wager on the time he spoke. So they finally came home into last night thoroughly disgruntled. And the Vagabond is herein chronicling his side of the story for his own protection and, needs must add, watch out what Dr. Hu Flung Huey will do to those boat races! And that, too is not the mere bias of a literary quarrel as if may seem to be.