“Every year economic problems become more difficult, every year it is more manifest that we need to have more knowledge and to get it soon, in order to escape, on the one hand, from the cruelty and waste of irresponsible competition and the licentious use of wealth, and, on the other, from the tyranny and the spiritual death of an iron-bound Socialism.”

Here be judicial truths, skilfully Marshalled into clear order, which may profitably be noted by the angry sciolistic skirmishers on one side and the other in the great Social War now raging.

The sniffing Laissez-faire man, the high and dry Economist, shrieks at the enthusiastic humanitarian Socialist, whom he would fain send to Anticyra,—­or further; the headlong humanitarian Socialist howls at the high and dry Economist, whom he would like to despatch finally to Saturn, or “haply to some lower level,” as BOB LOWE’s epitaph had it.  The result is cantankerous charivari!

Marshall does more and better.  He emphasises “the cruelty and waste of irresponsible competition,” he admits “the licentious use of wealth,” but he also recognises “the tyranny and the spiritual death of an iron-bound Socialism,” that violent and venomous form of Socialism, which Mr. Punch this week has represented under the apt symbol of a clinging, hampering, and suffocating Serpent.

Let the impetuous zealots who may probably demur to Mr. Punch’s symbol—­misunderstanding it—­ponder Professor MARSHALL’s words, and be not precipitate in judgment.  There is Socialism and Socialism.  The sort pictured by Professor MARSHALL, and Mr. Punch, is, like the Serpent of Old Myth, not the would-be friend of labour-cursed mankind, but a deceiving and glosingly deadly “incarnation of the Enemy.”

* * * * *

THE STRAIGHT TIP.

["There is one national duty in this connection, and only one, that is worth insisting upon for a moment.  That duty is to render it impossible for any enemy or combination of enemies to interrupt our supply of food or whatever else is necessary for our well-being.”—­The “Times” on Sir George Tryon’s Scheme for National Insurance of Shipping in Time of War.]

  Right, “Thunderer,” and tersely put! 
    Hammer this into BULL’s big noddle,
  Until he just puts down his foot
    On temporising timid twaddle,
  And you will do a vast deal more
    To keep our drowsy British Lion
  In health, and strength and wakeful roar
    Than all the schemes Tryon may try on. 
  Battle’s not always to the strong;
    The race, though, must be to—­the Fleet,
  With us at least.  We can’t go wrong
    In making safety there complete. 
  And by St. George we can’t go right
    On any other tack whatever,
  Until that Fleet is fit to fight
    With all our foes though strong and clever.