Word: vagabonde
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...Vagabond has fled the halls of Harvard and betaken himself to a fairer place than even Cambridge town, which is not difficult if he remembers his Cambridge. Inasmuch as he plans to sojourn here for some weeks far from the madding crowd it will be best to describe this place for his readers. There are no Georgian Houses with gold leaf and emblazoned shields, there are no Georgian cafeterias, there are no Deans, and there is no scaffolding to hide the works...
...what does the Vagabond do, you will ask? There are any number of things he can do. He can spade in the garden, or ride a horse, or go swimming, or talk to urchins, but he mostly sits, or "goes singin' like the mornin' stars for joy that he was made." And there is, too, in New Hampshire a wine of the country that used to be made from Russets, but now is ground from Baldwins. Boys at college distil it and call it applejack, but the farmers of New Hampshire keep it in a 50-gallon keg and call...
This is the Vagabond's present existence, but he must stop writing about it now. The hour grows late and he must eat as other men do. Besides, as the sun plunges into the west, so, at the same time, the moon surges up in the east, and he must go and do as other...
...Vagabond, it has been observed with depressing frequency, is a sentimentalist. He likes Strauss in music, Dickens in literature, Munchenbrau in drinks. From the sickly thought of divisionals and finals he turns to dream of the budding green things which on days like this defy the name of the Blue Hills; of dripping paddles moving on a quiet river: of everything which fortunate people have always done in May. He is even that worst of sentimentalists, one who loves a tradition for its own sake, and regrets its passing. New things may be best, but the old are consecrated...
...hundred-odd voices of the Glee Club sounding from the steps of Widener, with the professors and the professors' wives, the students and girls from Radcliffe listening under the shadow of the elms, with the sun going down in subdued splendor, and the pigeons fluttering about the columns, the Vagabond detects a freshness and spontaneity which break through the veneer of Harvard indifference. Last night only a slightly chilly wind checked his enthusiasm, and even that did not prevent him from joining the group of carollers on the steps, at the invitation of the impressario. Enthusiasm and a large crowd...