ABSTRACT
Mr. Huxley writes tracts in which the inevitable powder is disguised by varying qualities of jam. If, in this instance, the jam happens to be plum and apple and Mr. Huxley dresses himself up in horns and piebald fur to administer the dose, it does not mean that the powder is the less purgative; it is merely less pleasant to take. 'Conquerors of Nature, indeed! . . . they had merely upset the equilibrium of nature and were about to suffer the consequences. . . . An orgy of criminal imbecility. And they called it Progress.' The equivalent of such remarks ought to be blazoned round the new House of Commons and every other place of human assembly. That would save us, at any rate, some of our hypocrisies-such as printing Mr. Walter Elliot's pious reproof of Mr. Huxley in the News Chronicle side by side with a leading article casting doubt on the adequacy of our preparations for atomic war. God and the devil never share the same page.
