Not long ago the Vagabond bought a new pipe. Nothing unusual about the incident, nothing unusual about the purchase, nothing unusual at all. Merely a brown, prosaic, upcountry corn cob that farmers smoke in the spring plowing. But it brought back to mind a far off day when the Vagabond had acquired quite another pipe, under quite another circumstance.

It had been a cold, raw day in London, with slow rain and eddying winds. Towards nightfall the rain stopped and wisps of fog trailed up off the Thames to settle over the city. St. Paul's rolled up in the distance, the Bridge stood like ghostly battlements, and the finger of St. Martin's in the Fields was an old woman in an old torn veil. It was quiet end ancient and very sad.

Out of this old world murk the Vagabond stepped into the warm and well lit splendor of a shop. He was in Dunhill's and he was to buy a pipe--a straight grained pipe for all the world to see. He looked about him. In a far corner was an English gentleman in a Burberry, whose reverent hands stroked a pipe bowl that shone like well dressed leather. Here were three others helping a fourth decide between a crook necked and a straight stemmed. And there alone was one in a suit of tweed who gazed in silence at a loaded case lost in rapture and musing upon the greatness of a god that could think of such a wood as Briar.

A clerk interrupted. Yes he would like something, a pipe, a straight grained pipe. What was the fellow gazing at him for. He repeated, "a straight grained pipe." Come, come, such a house as Dunhill's must have heard of a wood with a straight grain. They had. Worse they had a waiting list for those who wanted them. Would be have his name entered? The Duke of Peterborough, Lord Lounsbury, Earl of Ludgate, Lord Gray of Shasta and Mount Hellicon, The Vagabond. No he thought not. He was rather sure not. No, he really didn't need or require a straight grained pipe. It was all a joke, a hideous, ill-timed joke. Show him anything, give him anything. Half England was staring at him and he wanted to be alone.

He got a very poor pipe for four and six which he lost on the boat coming home. But he had learned what make the English a great, comfortable, contented, conservative nation. Their love of things, their rare ability to love old wines, and high game, and fine linens, and burnished silver, and blended tobacco, and grained woods. Their ability to enjoy and worship the things the Lord has provided in His infinite wisdom which seem small and trivial and unimportant, but which are also great, and necessary and almost terrible in their absence.

In case this may all seem unnecessary and pointless it might be well to add on the fact that today Professor Webster at nine will talk on Britain and the British in the New Lecture Hall.

TODAY

9 o'clock

"Modern Britain and the British Empire," Professor Webster, New Lecture Hall.

"Renaissance Studies," Professor Rollins, Emerson F.

10 o'clock

"Dutch Painters of the Sixteenth Century," Dr. Kuhn, Fogg Museum.

"Tacitus, Historian and Satirist," Professor Rand, Sever 13.

"The War on the Sea, 1914-1918," Professor Fay, Harvard 1.

"Frank Norris," Professor Murdock, Sever 11.

11 o'clock

"The United States and the World War," Professor Schiesinger, New Lecture Hall.

"Florentine and Umbrian Painting," Professor Edgell, Fogg Large Room.

"American Diplomacy in the World War," Professor Baxter, Harvard 3.

12 o'clock

"The Dramatic Poetry of John Webster," Professor Murray, Harvard 3.

"Strauss," Professor Hill, Music Building.

"The Second Moroccan Crisis," Professor Langer, Harvard 6.

"Arnold and other Arthurian Poets," Professor Maynadier, Sever 5.

"Reflection in Curved Mirrors," Professor Black, Jefferson Physics Laboratory 250.