We take our seats and wait for the entrance of SEEBACH.  The curtain rises upon “FAUST” pursuing his studies in middle-age, respectability, and a dressing-gown.  To him, after hours of soliloquy, enters “MEPHISTOPHELES.”  We observe, with surprise, that those estimable gentlemen, Col.  THOMAS W. KNOX and Hon. ERASTUS BROOKS, have been engaged to play “FAUST” and “MEPHISTOPHELES” respectively, To be sure the programme informs us that these parts are taken by two newly imported German actors, but we prefer the evidence of our senses to the assertions of the programme.  Have KNOX and BROOKS been copied in German?  If not, they are now playing in Fourteenth Street.  Don’t tell me that it is merely an accidental resemblance.  Haven’t I played billiards with the gallant COLONEL, and gone to sleep when the Honorable EDITOR was speaking in Congress?  And shall I now be told that I don’t know them when I see them?  But this is irrelevant.

Hours of dialogue succeed to the previous hours of soliloquy.  At intervals of fifteen minutes the curtain is dropped to enable the actors to discuss mugs of beer and the audience to discuss the actors.  During these intervals we hear such remarks as these: 

1ST GERMAN.  “Subjectively considered, Faust is a tragedy.  Objectively, we might regard it as a comedy.  To the subjective-objective view, it is certainly a ballet pantomime.  Ach! he was many-sided, our GOETHE.  Here in this drama he has accomplished everything.  There is food for our laughter and our tears.  It excites us and calms us.”

1ST AMERICAN.  “I should think it did calm us.  That’s why the old fellow went to sleep and snored all through the last twelve acts.  I think it’s the heaviest and stupidest play that was ever put on the stage.  Of course it’s the greatest thing ever written, but then I prefer DALY’S Gaslight, myself.”

2ND GERMAN.  “Ah, my friend, how this sublime creation stirs the inner depths of our spiritual natures.  Ach, Himmel! it is the poem of Humanity.  Let us go out for beer.”

2D AMERICAN.  “When are we going to see SEEBACH?”

USHER.  “She don’t appear until the twenty-third act, sir.  That will be on about three hours from now.”

2D AMERICAN.  “Come, TOM, let’s go and have supper.  I am getting exhausted.”

USHER.  “Step this way, sir.  Mr. GRAU has some refreshments at your service.”

And they go in search of the cold ham and beer which the beneficent GRAU has kindly provided.  Refreshed by much beer, and enlivened by the cheery influence of the genial sandwich, they return for a few more hours of soliloquy and dialogue.

Time passes slowly, but surely.  At last we reach an act in which SEEBACH walks quietly across the stage.  The curtain instantly drops amid the sobs of the excited audience.

1ST GERMAN.  “Lend me your handkerchief, my friend, that I may wipe away my tears.  I have a sausage wrapped up in mine, but what are sausages compared with art!  How divinely SEEBACH walks.  To me, she seems like an incarnation of Pure Reason, an Avatar of the spirit of transcendental philosophy.  Come, we will pledge her in beer.”