Were it not for his native store of that urbanity which knows no frantic distress, no crying in the wilderness nor whining in the prior, the Vagabond would be sore at heart. He comes from his annual scuffle with the defenders of that most unaccountable of God's creatures, the Boston debutante. And of course his eloquence has been vain in the face of adamantine prejudice. The Vagabond, however, would not have his wisdom lost to humanity and he here sets down for the Ages the choicest of his thoughts.

In the course of his years the Vagabond has watched three cousins and two dear friends move gracefully into the garish light of the Somerset or into the dimmer glow of the Chilton Club. He has helped compose letters to enable girls to enter the Junior League, he has sat through innumerable suppers of scrambled eggs and sausages, he has worn many white ties, and seen countless suns rise slowly out of the district men call Back Bay. He has even, in the rush of his youth sat through one entire Vincent Show--later, in the dignity of his age, he departed he, half born. All this he has done, and may say with the Prophet, "Lord, I have seen it all."

From his observation and ripe reflection the Vagabond draws this conclusion: that, with the probable exception of life at Versailles in the reign of the Sun God, there never existed a more vacant, unintelligent, wasteful, slack, stupid, unsound, decayed, vapid, altogether delightful way for a young woman of ability and beauty to spend her evenings and sleep her mornings. The three cousins and the two dear friends have never quite agreed with the Vagabond, but then neither will Anne-whom Aristotle would call the efficient cause of this disquisition. Anne may, near the end of January come near admitting that Harvard men are not so attractive, amiable, and delightful as she was wont to feel. There is something about countless evenings over scrambled eggs and sausages in the Somerset or milk and ginger bread in the kitchen that tends to sap even the most vital girl's interest in vague, suave, sophisticated, even brilliant young men-of whom the Vagabond once was one. But he can't tell her this-she must find this out for herself. And when it is all over, when the white twill has been laid away in the cedar chest (and the files of the Herald), when the last shoddy slippers have danced their last measure to the last strains of Ruby Newman's orchestra, when the last Harvard Freshman has sauntered off to study at last for finals, then she will see the wisdom and herself pack up her Paulsen, and her Robinson, and her Schopenhauer and return to Radcliffe.

TODAY

9 O'Clock

"Charies Lamb's Essays," Professor Rollins, Emerson F.

11 O'Clock

"The Duke of Buckingham as Dramatist," Professor Murray, Harvard 1.

12 O'Clock

"Southern French Romanesque," Professor Edgoll, Robinson Hall.

3 O'Clock

"South American Railways," Professor Dunean (St. John's College). Widener U.

TOMORROW

10 O'Clock

"Plato's Coameloy and Theology," Professor Perry, Emerson D.

11 O'Clock

"The Bronze Age in Greek Lands." Professor Canant, Fogg Museum.

12 O'Clock

"The Principle of Archimedes," Professor Black, Jefferson Laboratory, Room 350.

2 O'Clock

"Development of Christian Theology during the first three Centuries," Professor La Plana, Andover Hall, C.