In America there have been no crusades. We have too little faith, and too much education for great journeyings into the cities of God. But De Soto died far down the Father of the Waters, Henrick Hudson set sail to find a North West Passage, and Ponce de Leon died in his search for a fountain of eternal youth. Something of this spirit drove men out west in the country's early years and sent them across the Panhandle into Texas, that they might fight for life in those far regions. Something of this spirit brings men out of Texas today.
The Vagabond quite frankly knows little about the Lone Star state. They raise cattle out there he has heard. Some cows they sell to the stockyards in Chicago, and some they sell to the movies. The Vagabond knows little about, the cow business, but he understands that heifer calf is better than no calf at all. He will, therefore, not talk about cows.
But he does want to talk a bit about Texas. It is only upon rare occasions that a team from the far flung regions of the west comes here to Cambridge. Harvard today has one of her rare opportunities to play the gracious host to an institution that has travelled three thousand miles to play a fine, hard game. It has also the chance to learn what manner of men come out of the west.
It is the Vagabond's hope that Harvard will avail herself of these opportunities for she can both teach much and learn much. Texas lies on the Gulf of Mexico and Massachusetts stares off at the Atlantic, but they are connected by those American traditions which went winding west in covered wagons.