We have studied the “Laski Lampoon” to see what we can learn about Professor Laski. Let us now examine it to see what we can learn about Harvard. You remember the student who was compelled to button his collar; so you would expect to find Harvard objecting to a radical professor who did not wear the right kind of tie, and did not get his clothes from the right tailor. The “Lampoon” refers again and again to this, both in verse and drawings; it speaks of Laski’s “creed of charming untidiness”; and if you want to know about Harvard’s creed of charming tidiness, turn to the advertising portions of this paper. One cannot publish an American magazine without advertisements, and the “Laski Lampoon” is almost up to the standard of the “Saturday Evening Post”—it has fifteen pages of reading matter and thirty-nine of advertisements! Some of this matter we may assume was contributed as a means of helping to save our alma mater from Bolshevism; for example, the page of the Baldwin Locomotive Works, and the page of the United Shoe Machinery Company, and the quarter-page of the Boston “Evening Transcript,” telling us: “This paper stands unflinchingly at home and abroad for ‘straight Americanism,’ for the cultivation of ‘an American character,’ which the First American called ‘the Cement that binds the Union.’“ But the rest are the advertisements of concerns which expect to sell things; and as they spend enormous sums in this way, they make it their business to get the returns, and know how to appeal to each group. So here we learn what Harvard men like, and why they did not like Professor Laski! “Follow the Arrow and you follow the style in collars,” we are told, and on another page: “_Correctness_ dominates the style policies of these stores.” Here are the usual handsome, haughty young men in “the Kuppenheimer clothes,” and here is the specially proper “Brogue Boot.” Wishing to see just what Harvard men spend their money for, I take the trouble to classify this advertising. There are seven and one-half pages devoted to clothing, three and three-fourths devoted to luxurious hotels, three and one-half devoted to automobiles, and three and one-half to investments of the interlocking directorate, including an invitation to gamble in German marks. One and one-half pages are given to tobacco, one and one-fourth to candy, one and one-fourth to games and sporting goods, one to jewels, one to movies, three-fourths to music, one-fourth to the “Transcript,” one-fourth to art, and one-fourth to books. From the above we may reckon that Harvard students spend thirty times as much on clothes as they spend on books, and fourteen times as much on motor cars as on art. Such is the state of “culture” when teaching is dominated by a vested class, which fears ideas, and forbids all thinking save what is certified to be harmless.