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As the Vagabond lay musing in his Tower last evening and weaving many a journey for his gentle readers he received a call which was as a bucket of water to the fire in his hearth or as an assassin to those warm spirits who occupy his Sanctum in the mellow hours of the evening. It was from one of his superiors--and a voice much too harsh for the peace of his walls--advising the Vagabond to change his ways: To get out into the sun and feel from those deep philosophical thoughts which have darkened his journeys of late; and burdened the breakfast minds of his readers unduly. He must please get out into Nature and receive that all instructive impulse; he would do well to lead his followers with happy stories. Philosophy is a good horse in the stable but an arrant jade on a journey.
It is with this sad spirit that the Vagabond muses this morning. He is very sensitive to his friends' pleasure; he would lean over backwards to hold those with whom in past years he journeyed so well and found so many treasures. And the Vagabond will take travels in every realm of adventure. But sadness draws us within ourselves and this morning the Vagabond cannot help thinking of his wounds.
He was unaware that his Muse was often mute to his friends. Even as a little lad, Plato was his teacher; and philosophy his friend. He recalls his preference for the tales of the ancient sages; and the disappointment of his nurse who loved to read him fairy tales. There was a story of a wise man who lived in a tub and told an emporor to stand out of his light; there was a tale of a man who fell in a well while looking at the stars; and once upon a time there was a philosopher who plucked the feathers from a rooster and sent it to a teacher who had defined man as a featherless biped. And then there were lines which as a young lad the Vagabond was made to learn:
How charming is divine philosophy!
Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose,
But musical as is Apollo's lute,
And a perpetual feast of nectar's sweets
Where no crude surfeit reigus.
This morning the Vagabond has the privilege to suggest that if there are those old ones who would like to feast at the table of one of the most musical of philosophers they follow him to Emerson F at 12 where Professor Whitehead luctures. The Vagabond must confess he has attended these lectures for nearly three years. He still doesn't understand. But then again, as the philosophers themselves say, philosophy is a chase and the joy is in the running.
Other interesting lectures this morning and Monday are listed below:
10 o'clock--Dr. Demos, "The Greek Sophists": Emerson D. Monday at 11 o'clock--Professor Gulick, "Herodotus and the Writing of History"; Sever 20. 12 o'clock--Professor Silz. "German Classicism and Romanticism"; Sever 6.
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