If, as has been said, variety is the salt and pepper which goes with the eggs of our every day existence, relaxation is the sugar in our coffee. The metaphor smacks, it is true of the restaurant, but the Vagabond must ask forgiveness for this if any cavil at its use for he intends today to relax; to feed on the sweet and unsubstantial food of idleness--to go to a baseball game.

Much has been said about the joys and felicities of spring, about the bursting buds, the gentle zephyrs the livelier iris on the burnished dove, etc, etc.--usually when March winds were still tossing hats gaily about the Yard. But no one can say more that these things are a delusion and a share, a trap for the unwary who essay forth coatless, trusting the tempered wind, for the baseball season has arrived. So this afternoon, the Vagabond will wander out toward Soldiers Field, admire in passing the blue of the river as it mirrors the fleecy clouds, and then, having arrived at the diamond, he will stretch out on the grass--being careful to lay a coat beneath him to ward off possible rheumatism--and there lying will spend the afternoon in the pleasant contemplation of baseball, sunshine and soft turf. All this of course, if it doesn't rain. If it does--but it won't so why worry?

In the evening as is the Vagabond's wont, he will go to the theatre--the usual Saturday function goes without saying. Just where he will go is a question, one which he can never decide until about 7.45 o'clock in the evening when the inexorable flying moment says "choose this--or this." Of the various choices "The Vagabond King" if he hadn't seen it already would present strong attractions--there is a slight discrepancy here for the perspicacious to pick out--and the same applies to "The Cocoanuts."

Just now as he has been perusing the "Amusements", the Vagabond has hit upon something that has made him stop mid-way between laughter and melancholy. Of course it is connected with the recent tempest which has been stirring up the dust of Broadway. It is not for him to judge the question although it is conceivable that one may be more outraged at the idea of censorship than at the ideas of the plays. But here is the thing itself. WHITE CARGO--The Original Sex Play. Are more words necessary?

After this digression there is still the matter of seeking an amusement--and that can be well done in this evening's papers.