Harry Pratt Judson has been at our university since it was founded thirty years ago, and is a holder of ten college degrees, and a high interlocking director in all the Rockefeller foundations for the guidance of American intellectual life. Also he is the author of a manual for college presidents entitled: “The Higher Education as a Training for Business,” a book which deserves to be required reading for every course in educational administration, a standard guide to the art of persuading the rich to put up their money for mullioned windows and crenellated battlements and moated draw-bridges. There has to be somebody to keep the interlocking directorate aware of the importance of culture, and Harry Pratt Judson is the boy for this job; showing how a college education really does pay in dollars and cents, and putting it in language so simple that the basest pork merchant over at the “yards” can get the point. Says our President Judson: “Men buy and sell, not merely for fun, but for profit.” And again: “A reputation for honest dealing with customers is a valuable asset.” And again: “The habit of sustained mental application is got only by persistently applying the mind to work in a systematic way.” Can any one deny these statements? If so, let him speak, or forever after hold his peace, while we, the administration of the University of Chicago, assert and declare that our Harry Pratt Judson is an educated educator and an inspired inspirationalist. The Bolshevik author enters the presidential sanctum, still with that evil seductive smile. He explains that he has spoken to an audience of two thousand people at the University of Wisconsin, and fears that a hall seating only two hundred people will not accommodate those who wish to hear him at Chicago. He understands there is a large auditorium, Mandel Hall, which seats thirteen hundred—— “Ah, yes,” says our president, with that urbanity which distinguishes him, “but we are accustomed to reserve Mandel Hall for speakers who are invited by the university.” “Well,” says the Bolshevik author—could anyone imagine the impudence?—“I should be perfectly willing to be invited by the university.” “I’m afraid that could hardly be arranged,” says our president, as sweetly as ever. “Of course, Mr. Sinclair, you understand that we are quite willing for our students to listen to anyone’s ideas; we have absolute freedom of speech at this university, but we have our established traditions regarding the use of our halls, and you could not expect us to make an exception in your case.” “Well,” says the Bolshevik author, “it would seem, President Judson, that your idea of freedom of speech is that the radicals have a small hall and the conservatives a large hall.”