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The Vagabond



17th.--Up very betimes, about 8 o'clock, waked by a blasted noise between a band, a drunk and a junk man, nobody after I up being able to tell me what it was. But--did say it be no noise at all, but only a brain disturbance of the Senior Spread affair, and this I can believe, for never in my life have I been to such a sweaty, messy affair, nor had such poor supper, nor heard such good music but with so little space to make merry in. Bless my soul, scarce lives there a man so bad as a crowd; and Lord, this is only the beginning!

So to dress in new white suit, whcih I am sore at my heart to find is too tight in the breeches, and, being very sleepy, droused most part of the way to South Station for meetings. But Lord! I did not expect the whole family tree to come. But just the same, very happy, and after many kisses and pretty words, to inform ourselves as to breakfast. So to the Copley and I sate next to my little cousin who be very sweet and fresh but, I fear, with little brains in her head.

Thence to talk much of the Baccalaureate Sermon which they all had read, even the little cousin, and much impressed with it; but I did not like it too much: Though I know it be a good proverb that the study of man be the candle of the Lord. And I was also glad to hear come from the President the value of character building in education; for I know, though this be a difficult and drippy subject, yet no wise man will doubt that learning without gentlemaness is a great failure. Yet I know this is one of the greatest failings of our entire educational system. Bless my soul, already ther are too many stuffy encyclopaedias without a warm thought.

With this, and talking and laughing at the follies of the Brain Trust administration--and this talk I do like too much; but I know even families must be humored--we to Cambridge by noon, and they all a bubble to see the Tower, and by and by to ask me what will happen to it. I to tell them I do not know, but I know at my heart it will not crumble. It is a good Tower built of whimsy stones and vagrant ideas. One day another Vagabond, poor perhaps in purse, but rich in sentiment and imagination will stop by and see it and through the seeing make it his.

But Lord! Enough of this. My eyes do trouble me exceedingly. I fear I must leave my journal until tomorrow.

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