The few theatres now open seem to be doing uncommonly good business.
The Shaftesbury, with _Morocco Bound_, was as nearly full as it could
be in the first week of September, when the cry is not yet "They are
coming back," but they are remaining away. Another week will make all
the difference. _Morocco Bound_ is not a piece at all, but a sort of
variety show, just held together by the thinnest thread of what, for
want of a better word, may be temporarily dignified as "plot." Mr.
CHARLES DANBY is decidedly funny in it. Mr. TEMPLAR SAXE is a pretty
singer. Mr. GEORGE GROSSMITH well sustains the eccentric reputation
of his family name; and, if any opposition manager could induce the
present representative of _Spoofah Bey_ to appear at another house,
it would be "all up" with _Morocco Bound_, as such a transfer would
entirely take "the Shine" out of _this_ piece. Miss JENNIE MCNULTY
does nothing in particular admirably; and Miss LETTY LIND, charming
in her _entr'acte_ of skirt-dancing, is still better in her really
capital dance with the agile CHARLES DANBY. This entertainment has
reached its hundred and fiftieth night (!!!), and all those who are
prevented from going North to stalk the wily grouse may do worse than
spend a night among the Moors in _Morocco Bound_. Oddly enough, but
quite appropriately, the acting-manager in front, who looks after
the fortunes of Morocco and its Moors, is Mr. A. BLACKMORE. Out of
compliment he might have let in an "a" after the "k," dropped the
final "e," and given himself a second "o." Still, in keeping with the
fitness of things, he has done well in being there.
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