to which they belong (independent of the Sunday), that then all parties might be satisfied, and a great objection done away with as to the great general system which I here propose for secular instruction and moral and religious training.” He goes on to remark that a reformatory may be wanted in any country, under any circumstances, “but why should we have _Ragged_ Schools in _rich_ England?” He proceeds to argue that there would be no need for either Ragged Schools or Reformatories if the use of “strong drink” were abolished; and he calls upon “the grown-up people not to allow innocent children to starve and fall into evil ways, because they cannot agree upon the mode of cutting a Slice op Bread and Butter.” He adds: “But as prevention is better than cure, I call upon all those who delight in good works to aid the Temperance cause, which is, in truth, the only radical cure for the evils complained of.” The tail-piece to this characteristic pamphlet--as charming as it is characteristic--is a brightly-executed drawing on wood of Britannia seated upon the British lion, couchant, with her arms about “her ragged and reformatory pets.” Cruikshank’s zeal for the cause to which he had devoted himself led him to take delight in the illustration even of little Temperance pamphlets and fly-sheets. Ruskin had said, in his “Time and Tide, by Weare and Tyne” (1867), “It is no more his business to etch diagrams of drunkenness than it is mine at this moment to be writing these letters against anarchy.” Yet just as Mr. Ruskin has gone on with his letters, so Cruikshank went on with his diagrams of drunkenness to the end. In 1867, when Cruikshank brought out his “British Bee-Hive,” with a worker at a trade or profession in every cell, the estates of the realm at the top, and the army and navy at the bottom, and called it “a penny political picture for the people, with a few words upon Parliamentary Reform, by their old friend George Cruikshank,” he was opposed to the Reform Bill, and advised the working-men to be content with the glorious constitution as it stood, and keep away from Reform meetings, as “revolutionary proceedings.” Perhaps the best of Cruikshank’s pamphlets, taking the text and the drawings together, is “The Glass and the New Crystal Palace,” published by John Cassell. It is thoroughly Cruikshankian, and in his most vivacious mood: some of the illustrations--as the Spirit Level--a drunkard at full length upon the pavement; the Social Villagers, with Death for the host, and the villagers represented by their tombstones; and the whisky after the goose, and the goose after the whisky, for instance.