6th. Sitting quietly at his maple desk, the Vagabond's thoughts wander into devious channels, and his pen following his mind as a child imitates its seniors--traces an incongruous line of thought, erratic but mild. Today he loiters before the haberdasheries of Harvard Square, gazing in vain at windows filled with things he wished his friends had given him for Christmas and wishing in vain be could return most of the things they did give him. Friends pass by. Some with tanned faces that bespeak of southern holidaying. A lucky few with ruddy faces who had found snow in which to ski and rub the protesting faces of their loves. And all to the great irritation of the Vagabond, shouting a Happy New Year. Then and there he makes a solemn vow never to wish more than one such felicitation. Repetition strains the worth of sentiment. Besides, the wisdom of being happy about the New Year is doubtful. Better to wish a Happy Mid-Year's or a Merry Reading Period... The Vagabond ambles aimlessly, until he meets with a Radcliffe friend... A story of the Radcliffe freshman who, in the act of stealing an extra week's vacation, writes the dean that she is awfully sick and encloses--incidentally--a five pound box of candy... Later hear more gossip about clever means of lengthening vacations. Exciting is the case of an undergraduate who times his return to college so well that his train is to arrive nine minutes before his first class. Of course, the train is an hour late. The student, already visualizing the opening of those one-way gates, arrives just as the section man is dropping the slip into the box. Let it be said that every Harvard man has inherent powers of persuasion, for in the end both student and instructor are wishing each other a Happy New Year...