The Vagabond is in town and having been slighted by the social editor of the Transcript he is forced to blow his own trumpet. He is looking very well in his spectral way and is enjoying the health which only a vigorous summer close to nature can produce. Economic disaster directed the Vagabond's steps toward the farm where he patterned his life upon the teachings of Roussean and the Rural New Yorker.
In company with his friends the cows and the pigs and the little birds the Vagabond devoted himself entirely to thinking beautiful thoughts which he did regularly before breakfast with the most beneficial results. The rest of the day he spent wrapped in the warm glow which only a beautiful thought well digested is capable of lending one. Thus with his armory of old saws refurbished and his mind cleared of all the dreary troubles which had harassed his past the Vagabond is prepared to resume the apostolic robes which he had left behind him.
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Morning Chapel
