Vag put down his Modern European History text and leaned back, yawning, in the armchair. He closed his eyes and sighed. History could never be the same since that day last spring when he had heard that booming voice declaim for the last time, "Gentlemen, the Middle Ages were slow, slow, inconceivably slow . . ."

The Vagabond sucked on his unlit pipe and began to wonder. The author of the text he had just put aside had a great deal of information about the Middle Ages, undoubtedly remarkable, and perhaps even useful, but could that author transform his dry, textbook style into such sonorous periods and ringing phrases as were went to keep even the drowsiest Freshman from nodding at nine o'clock in the morning? And even if his author could deliver such a lecture, thought Vag, could he hold to the measured pace of his biweekly oration through a series of shrill bursts from a dozen alarm clocks scattered strategically throughout New Lecture Hall, and set off at carefully-planned intervals during the hour? But even should these achievements be equalled, Vag reflected with mixed pleasure and regret, no one but the taskmaster-emeritus of History 1 could inspire, and graciously accept, the gift of a highly-polished apple which one ardent admirer had brought up to the rostrum at the climax of a lecture on the feudal system.

The age of giants was over. Vag picked up the history book and laid it sadly and silently on top of the pile of unanswered letters from home, old laundry bills, and football ticket applications. He picked up the Crimson and glanced idly down the front page, then seized on a small item. All was not lost! The maestro was coming back to give the Freshman a return performance, and Vag had enough of the Freshman in him still to want to join the audience and hear.

Professor Roger Bigelow Merriman, on "Harvard and the War? In the Union Upper Common Room at 7:15 o'clock tonight.