This morning the Vagabond left his beloved Tower and his mind was filled with many a happy thought, for on this fair day nature with its blue heaven and its gentle breezes and its pure white clouds did seem to run together in sweet arabesques with the Vagabond's own world of happy thoughts and gentle feelings and whimsy moods.

And as the Vagabond strolled from his Tower and along the river he mused how good is this natal earth which gives us not only food for our bodies and stuff for our shelters but also feeds us with ideas and sentiments and beautiful sensations. And how good is art which does try to take nature as its teacher and is content to show her as she is.

As the Vagabond thus walked and mused suddenly he was aware that he had reached. Dunster House, and it did seem very imposing and things seemed to buzz exceedingly. And again the Vagabond thought how warm it must be in winter and how cold the Tower. But the students who strolled indifferently about the court did seem most cold and concerned only with their gentlemanly ego. The Vagabond wondered whether he dare go in-for he's a sensitive soul and ill-versed in indifference. But he was asked to the exhibition of modern European art-and the Vagabond does love art very much. But alas!

Are these the laws which Homer gave? Figures cut from a fashion magazine pasted on canvas, geometric background: "Street In Montevidco", Norah Borges... By Lurcat, reinder horns growing out of earth tall as trees; a leaf large as a mountain, "Paysage Romantique"... One steer's head, one girl's head, a railroad track, one prairie, in oil and framed, "Paysage Andalou," by Jose Moreno Villa... And it was with profound regret that the Vagabond saw his friend's portrait, Edwin Arlington Robinson, taken down and replaced with a portrait which resembles the Vagabond's hag-in all respect dear women-and simply called, "Head of Woman", by Otto Dix. Gentlemen, don't miss this one. The Vagabond shudders at the thought of Dunster students living with this woman the rest of the month.

The Old Fellow feels hurt speaking this way. Thou wert right, Horace: Painters have licence in everything. But do artists? One bit called, "Odalisque", a young girl reclining on a coach looks more like Steig's stuff, but no, it's another of Borges. Utrillo's contribution had best be called "four big hips going to grub" than "Auberge". And, gentle readers, if you see the "Magnetic Cultivation of Planets," in Paul Klee's little brain child then please come to the Vagabond's Tower. Rare souls are always welcome.

But don't miss the exhibition. The flowers are nicely arranged; tea is gracefully poured. And really, there is a bit of beauty here and there, and all of it-at least this day-was not framed.