“’Cold water is the only thing
    Worth loving here below;
  The man who won’t its praises sing,
    Will straight to Hades go.’”

Now, for one, I don’t like this improved version of “RIP.”  Of course, the Temperance Reformers will construe this expression of opinion into an admission that every man, woman, or advocate of female suffrage, who has ever written a line for PUNCHINELLO is a confirmed drunkard.  In spite of this probability, I still have the courage to maintain that so long as Mr. JEFFERSON is an artist, and not a temperance lecturer, he need not mix up the drama with the Temperance Reform, or any other hobby.  If he is to be compelled to deliver a temperance address every time he plays Rip Van Winkle, let us compel Mr. GREELEY to play “RIP” every time he gives a temperance lecture.  If the latter catastrophe were to happen, the punishment of the Reforming Nuisances would be complete.

There are, however, plays which could be changed so as to terminate much more naturally and effectively than they now do.  For example, there is Enoch Arden. At present ENOCH, when he looks through the window and sees his wife enjoying herself with PHILIP in the dining-room, immediately lies down on the grass-plat in the back-yard, and groans in a most harrowing style,—­after which he picks himself up, and, going back to his hotel, dies without so much as recognizing his old friends and congratulating them upon their prosperity.  Now the way in which the play should have ended, had the dramatist wished to convince us that “ENOCH” was a reasonable being, would have been somewhat as follows:—­

ENOCH (looking through the window).—­“Well, here’s a go.  My wife has actually married PHILIP.  They look pretty comfortable, too.  PHILIP is evidently rich.  Here’s luck for me at last.  I’ve got him where I can strike him pretty heavily.” [He enters the house,]

PHILIP AND HIS WIFE.—­“ENOCH!  Can it be possible?  Why, we thought you were entirely dead, and so we married.  Well! well!  This is a healthy state of things.”

ENOCH (sternly).—­“Mr. PHILIP RAY.  You have had the impertinence to marry my wife.  Sir!  I consider that you have taken an unjustifiable liberty.  Have you anything to say for yourself before I proceed to shoot you?  I might mention that I once had a third cousin whose aunt by marriage was slightly insane, so you see that I can kill you with a calm certainty that the jury will acquit me, on the ground of my hereditary insanity.”

PHILIP.—­“Take a drink, old boy.  We’ll be reasonable about this matter.  Don’t attempt murder,—­it’s no longer respectable since MCFARLAND went into the business.  Why can’t we compromise this affair?”

ENOCH.—­“It will cost you something.  There are my lacerated feelings, which can’t be repaired without a good deal of expense.  Still I will do the fair thing by you.  Give me fifty thousand dollars and I’ll leave the country and say nothing more about it.  You can keep my wife, if you want her.  I’m sure I don’t.”