ncipal character, is the master of an
eating-house, to which establishment all the other persons in the piece
belong, and all are made to display the author's practical knowledge of
the internal economy of a cook-shop. Endless are the jokes about
sausages--roast and boiled beef are cut, and come to again, for a great
variety of facetiae--in short, the entire stock of fun is cooked up from
the bill of fare. The master gives his instructions to his "cutter" about
"working up the stale gravy" with the utmost precision, and the "sarver
out" undergoes a course of instruction highly edifying to inexperienced
waiters.

This burletta helps to develop the plan which it is the intention of the
"council" to follow up in their agonising efforts to resuscitate the
expiring drama. They, it is clear, mean to make the stage a vehicle for
instruction.

Miss Martineau wrote a novel called "Berkeley the Banker," to teach
political economy--the "council" have produced "Enjoyment" as an
eating-house keepers' manual, complete in one act. This mode of
dramatising the various guides to "trade" and to "service" is, however, to
our taste, more edifying than amusing; for much of the author's learning
is thrown away upon the mass of audiences, who are only waiters between
the acts. They cannot appreciate the nice distinctions between "buttocks
and rounds," neither does everybody perceive the wit of _Joey's_ elegant
toast, "Cheap beef and two-pence for the waiter!" This kind of
erudition--like that expended upon Chinese literature and the arrow-headed
hieroglyphics of Asia Minor--is confined to too small a class of the
public for extensive popularity, though it may be highly amusing to the
table-d'hote and ham-and-beef interest.

The chief beauty of the plot is its extreme simplicity; a half-dozen words
will describe it:--_Mr. Bang_ goes out for a day's "Enjoyment," and is
disappointed! This is the head and front of the farceur's offending--no
more. Any person eminently gifted with patience, and anxious to give it a
fair trial, cannot have a better opportunity of testing it than by
spending a couple of hours in seeing that single incident drag its slow
length along, and witnessing a new comedian, named Bass, roll his heavy
breadth about in hard-working attempts to be droll. As a specimen of
manual labour in comedy, we never saw the acting of this _debutant_
equalled.

We are happy to find that, determined to give "living _English_ dramatists
a