The Student Vagabond

Following parades was one of the chief sports that made holidays enjoyable in the town where the Vagabond spent his youth, and the chief grievance he has against the city of Cambridge is that it produces nothing in the way of processions save an occasional boy scout troop on patriotic occasions and a few torch-bearing automobiles the night before election. The Army game fills this gap in his emotional life very successfully, and after he has trailed the cadet lines down the streets and across the river he is reconciled to his lot once more. All during the past week a feeling of restlessness has been growing more and more pronounced, and most disconcertingly the Vagabond would come to himself with a start in the midst of a lecture to find that inwardly he was listening to martial music.

Now that the Yard will presently have its autumn bronze and gold mixed with the gray of uniforms during the few minutes that mark the yearly visit of the West Pointers, he realizes what a tradition the Army game has acquired in the short time it has become again a feature of the Harvard football season. The Vagabond for one has come to look forward to it as one of the few colorful interludes in the college year, and once it has come and gone the noises and the smells that afflict a university around which a crowded city has grown up seem a little less oppressive. Perhaps for his readers the visitation of the military may have a different effect, but in any case the occasion is a red-letter day in the Harvard calendar and the Vagabond welcomes to-day's visitors with a sincere, if somewhat selfish, greeting.