Word: vagabonder
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...Vagabond there is nothing worse than the present day tendency to link up things materialistic with endeavors intellectual. He abhors the monetary incentives that spur on novelists and biographers. Likewise he detests the prostitution of literary art by men who write with their tongue in their cheek for the sake of reaping rewards in lucre and not in reputation. His abhorrence of all that is cheap and tainted is great; he is far distant from political graft...
...scruples forbid him even to mention the name of his maligner. He will jest let that go. The statements concerning his running a "racket"--even the mere word is repulsive-- are wholly false. There need be no formal denials and no explanations. In the hearts of his followers the Vagabond is already exonerated...
...failures of modern life that has worried the Vagabond more than the business depression or the post war madness is the decline, yes and the downright fall, of the theatre. Time was when the old fellow could slump down in his seat and enjoy the full richness of Booth's baritone or the exquisite pathos of Mrs. Fiske's Becky Sharp. But now he is subjected to the baser aspects of free love or human propagation whenever he so much as steps into a theatre...
...matrons forget how poorly the dinner had gone off. If debutantes had existed at that time they would have been heard to utter that highest praise of "Gosh that's swell" as Gilbert juggled the last high note. And once after too much port and Iolanthe the Vagabond went down Pieadilly with a poppy and a lily. Yea, verily, there were giants upon the earth in the old days. And that is why the Vagabond is wont to assume a certain cynicism towards the modern productions, and to mumble under his breath, "It's clever...
...occurred to him that he might set down for his host of followers some of the more attractive taverns that they too might experience the joys of the epicure before the Pops or a movie. The Vagabond has ever cared deeply for the Olympia. Every now and again American food becomes too prosaic, too jading for the appetite. Then a baked chop, rice cooked with the aid of some occult Greek necromancy, and Baclava make a meal worth the cating. Down near the market there is the restaurant which was an institutions of our fathers', Durgin's. A good trustworthy...