The Student Vagabond

For all his natural good spirits, the Vagabond has been feeling of late that the ruby of the sunset was only a garnet and the emerald of the sea was but green glass. He has suffered from the "weariness the fever, and the fret. Here, where men sit and hear each other groan." He has sought comradeship in vain. The Jester has been in seclusion, incubating puns on the Shanghai situation. George Bernard Shaw has climbed off the apple cart to mount the band-wagon of reform (thereby adding another name to the firm of Wells, Russell, and Mencken, Ltd., Odd-jobbers Specializing in the Repair of Democracy, Sex, The Facts of History, and God.) The spirit of fun untainted by prostitution to a cause lives on only in the Vagabond's breast.

For consolation the Vagabond turns back the pages of history. Time and space may be the loci of preheusions for Professor Whitehead, but they are nothing to the Vagabond when a fellow spirit calls. Back in 1342 in Germany lived a great man. He masqueraded as a solemn monk, peering from beneath his cowl with an impish grin. He told ribald jokes before embarrased burgers and their daughters in the Church, Square. He put frogs in the Papal Legate's bed. But his escapades led to the scaffold and Till Eulenspeigel danced for the last time, with his feet off the ground longer than ever before. The Vagabond is often homesick for Till, and he will go to Sanders Theater at eight tonight to dream of Till's sly tricks. There the Symphony Orchestra will play "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks, after the Old-fashioned Roguish Manner" and the rascal of Brunswick will live again in Strauss's spirited music.