The personal experiences of a dilettante from his early days at Yale in the Golden Nineties to the outbreak of the war. He tells of collegiate escapades in old New York, of the Grand Tour, during which he made the acquaintance of every bar and boasted his capacity for drink. Most of the people he collected along the way seem unimportant, but an occasional glimpse of a meeting with Rodin, Debussy, St. Denis is of interest. A vacuous, superficial life that glories in looking backward, and continually complains of the social changes in the pattern of today. Can't see much excuse for publishing it.