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. Insurance may be all serene, But _the_ insurance JOHN must measure Is safety on all roads marine For him, his men, his food, his treasure. And if our ships don't give us this On Neptune s high-road wild and wavy, JOHN BULL his chief straight tip will miss, And likewise soon may miss--his Navy! * * * * * [Illustration: PROFESSOR MARSH'S PRIMEVAL TROUPE. HE SHOWS HIS PERFECT MASTERY OVER THE CERATOPSIDÆ. (_See Proceedings of the British Association at Leeds._)] * * * * * CUPID AND MINERVA. (_FRAGMENT FROM AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY THAT IT IS HOPED WILL NEVER BE WRITTEN._) I was most anxious that my past should be concealed from him, as I felt that once revealed, it would come between us as a barrier for ever! So I dissembled. I adapted my conversation to his capabilities. I learned to talk of lawn tennis, cricket, politics, even cookery. Only on one occasion did I betray myself. With self-abasement I was asking for an explanation of the electric telegraph. He gave me a somewhat faulty definition. "Dear me!" I cried. "How did they ever come to think of such a clever thing?" "_Omne ign[)o]tum pro magnifico_," he replied, with condescension. I could not bear the false quantity even from _his_ lips, and I asked, "Would not _ign[=o]tum_ be better, darling?" I could have bitten out my tongue for such an indiscretion. He looked at me sharply, with a glance of covert distrust.