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L. The brutality of Punch and Judy. Whenever the season of picnics and children's excursions draws near, I feel disposed to renew my protest against a performan
which has in some inexplicable way crept into decent society.
I mean Punch and Judy.
It is an exhibition only fitted to be shown, as it seems to me, before the chi ders and executions from the Police Gazette; and yet the exhibition of Punch and Judy offers this and nothing more, and does it in the more pernicious form of action in the slumbers that follow.
I do not wish to put all the blame of Punch and Judy on our English ancestors, for it is much older than they.
The very figure of th er it excites are at least innocent.
But our ordinary performances of Punch and Judy exhibit nobody so alive and so harmless as a real puppy; it is one dreary series ther it be licentiousness, as on the French stage, or brutality, as in Punch and Judy, involves a deeper danger — that such things may not only grow familiar as a spe