Lay long abed, early morning worship being for a select few, the Vagabond too old and ragged a fellow for the company. Wistfully musing, till reconciled by the happy thought that religious democracy isn't Puritan and John Harvard was. Felt cheered in my heart, moreover, by prospect of a morning of speeches that even the Vagabond and his merry fellows could understand, after so promiscuous a display of forbidding wisdom.

Heard then with pleasure many worthy, honest men and boys say what was nearest to their representative hearts about Adopted Mother. Thrilled to see so many happy Crimson gentlemen from far and wide, but delighted even more by the intelligence of the non-Harvard tribute-givers. Thanks be to Almighty God for such enlightened outlanders, especially for that genial man, Dr. Hele, Master of Emmanuel College, Cambridge, Granddaddy of Harvard as Father of John. The Vagabond, entertained this summer in princely manner by the generous master, admonishes the authorities to be kind to him. Listened with all ears to the music of the "Tercentenaria," but wondered to myself if it will sound so cheery when aged a hundred, as does the good "Fair Harvard."

Very much pleased to learn of "The Changing Attitude Toward Athletics," and thanked God from the bottom of my heart for our unsalaried amateurishness.

So ended for the nonce all Puritan sobriety, and the Vagabond tried hard to partake of twentieth-century gaiety, with only John Harvard's likeness and the glow of the dancing torch-flames to remind of the celebrated past. The Pop Concert popped, and the merry ones sipped and stepped away the night, and a weary Vagabond crawled off to bed, already envying his progeny-to-be their four-hundredth birthday party.