The Vagabond gets this way every spring--what with all the doxies around and car-lights glittering on the Charles at night. It steals upon him suddenly, and before he knows it--a Renaissance!

Yesterday morning unexpectedly it happened. Steadying his head to prevent its rolling heavily off onto the floor the Vagabond groaned from his couch, achieved the window, and peered querulously up into the April sky. The winey sunlight warmed his gouty limbs and made his head contract pleasantly. Suddenly the Vagabond turned and frowned at the disgusting clutter of his room. He saw the remnants of his Vintage 99 (99 cents), his pictures awry, his clothes in disarray. Winter and sottish hibernation. . . Turning again to the window and with a last fine whiff of April morning, the Vagabond strode with Merrimanly grandeur to the shower.

Spring, spring! And Mother Nature--the trollop! The Vagabond is too honest not to tell the sequel to these optimistic whiffings:--his zealous disposal of the Vanities, his airing and dusting, his meticulous dressing in his most summery suitings; and his light-hearted setting forth into the world. All to no end! For April soon twitched her sunny smile into a frozen leer, and the Vagabond ran home to his celibate cubicle cringing from the cold and mumbling imprecations.

But even so the Vagabond is a new man. Up in the morning, on the wagen, spinach for lunch, early to bed and off to sleep. The Vagabond had to use Luminol at first but now he reads the papers in bed and it's much better! Spring takes care of everything!