Consider the hot spot upon which our old mother oppressor, foe and friend, Britannia, is undeniably writhing-- well slightly, anyhow--these days.

In the East, Japan is busily engaged in an attempt once for all to hog Northern China and so to get herself well launched into the realization of her dream of the hegemony of Asia--with excellent prospects of succeeding. And for old Mater Britain, painfully aware that Hong Kong and Singapore are the logical objectives of this rising Empire, that naturally is poison ivy. What she'd dearly love to do, with the wounding of her ambassador in hand is to send her fleet thumping into the Whangpoo with the mighty Hood at its head, and dispatch the Japanese navy, and with it the Japanese dream, merrily down to Davy Jones' locker.

There isn't much doubt about her capacity to do it, either. But unfortunately, there is Spain and Signor Mussolini's little dream of grabbing the mastery of the Mediterranean. And there is Heel Hitler, with a whole gang of nice little schemes, of which the pet ones at the moment seem to be the snatching of Danzig and the putting of the hooks into Czechoslovakia for so much as Silesia and old Bohemia at any rate. And if Mama Britain went steaming out to spank the little brown man, well, there'd be nobody left at home to keep the Signor and the Heel in their place but France, who by herself, and gallant though she be, is unequal to the job. But to be sure, old Dame Britain would come steaming back soon or late to call 'em to account? So she would, but alas, in sending the Japs down to keep company with the fishes, she'd probably lose the half of her own fleet just when she needed it most.