Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 1, 1895

It appears that the very excellent proposal of amalgamating all the local branches of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children in one national association is meeting with some opposition in Liverpool. Says the Courier of that important locality, It was Liverpool which educated London in the matter of child-protection, and probably the Londoners could still learn in Liverpool many practical lessons. And just when Liverpool is about to be trebled in extent, and have its population largely increased, seems a singularly inappropriate time to subordinate the city to London. From this it would appear that Liverpool in its growth is becoming, to use a colloquialism, too big for its boots. Surely the benefit of the children should be the first consideration. What the size of either Liverpool or London has to do with that matter, it is difficult to say. No doubt Londoners could learn much from their Liverpool brothers. But the lesson for the moment is to discover how to best protect the little ones. And that subject can only be mastered by a display of goodwill and unselfishness on both sides.
The North returned thee not to British earth.
Whence on that splendid quest thou didst go forth;
But when our British hearts, in sordid dearth
Of pride, forget thy valour and thy worth,
Those hearts must be yet colder than the North.
Taken and Off
Getting on at 6 to 4.
Dear Mr. Punch,—Although you are a humorist, there is a serious side to your character. I want to appeal to that serious side. I wish to complain of the prevalence in all our West-End Co-operative Palaces of that annual pest, appropriately called the Club Sweep. Why should it be allowed to prosper? It is a disgrace to civilisation. I know of no more painful sight than the picture of old Crœsus paying the hall-porter to put him down for a dozen places. I am delighted when those twelve positions end in blanks, or starters out of the running. And nearly as unpleasant an incident is the tableau of young Jones taking a pound chance at the same fatal lottery. Put it down, Mr. Punch ; put it down. I repeat, the Club Sweep is unworthy of the civilisation of the close of the nineteenth century. Once more, Sir, put it down.