The gardens of Cremorne are twenty-two acres
in extent, are prettily laid out, are filled with
brilliant flowers, and are kept with as much care
as those of the Horticultural Society. Indeed,
of the quiet daylight frequenters of the place,
were they not properly attended to, there would
be a serious falling off. During the season, the
services of fifteen gardeners are constantly required,
in rolling paths, mowing lawns, and attending
to the beds. Previous to opening, twenty
carpenters, six scene-painters, twelve gasmen,
two women to sew canvas, four men to repair the
roof, and five house-painters, take possession of
the outside of Cremorne and its appurtenances,
while two upholsterers, fifteen wardrobe-makers,
and ten property-men, look up old material, and
prepare for internal decoration. Then the literary
gentleman attached to the establishment sits
down in his cabinet to compose the announcement
of approaching festivities, and eight billposters
convey the result of his cogitations to
an admiring public.

In this past season of 1863 the Gardens
opened early in the spring with a dog show; and
the estimate for the preparation, for gardeners,
painters, roofers, carpenters, smiths, labourers,
and gravel-diggers, amounted to £3500,
independent of the cost of material, galvanised
iron, timber, ironmongery, wire-work, &c., about
£2000 more. While the Exhibition was open,
the expenses of keepers, police, attendants, and
music, were about £300 a week, and a very large
sum was expended in advertisements and prizes.
This dog show, however, was an extraneous affair,
not calculated in the regular round of expense.
In the same category was the tournament, to
produce which the services of three hundred
"supers," six armourers, thirty-two horses, and
ten grooms, were specially engaged. When the
Gardens are open for the season the regular staff
is very large and very costly. It comprises sixteen
money-takers, seven gasmen, two scene-painters,
three house-painters, one resident master carpenter,
and seventeen wardrobe men and women.
The stage department requires the services of
twenty-five carpenters to work the scenes, a
prompter, a hundred members of the corps de
ballet, two principal dancers, three principal
pantomimists, several vocalists, and a turncock—
without whose aid the fairy fountains would not
flow. Add to this a firework manufacturer with
seven assistants, fifteen riders, and several horses
in the circus; a set of twenty dogs and monkeys,
with their master, in the Octagon Theatre; a set
of marionettes and their master, in another part of
the grounds; twenty-five members of the regular
orchestra and two peripatetic bands, a gentleman
who delivers a lecture on the Australian
explorers, three regular policemen, and, on extra
nights, six others, and you have some notion of
what the management of Cremorne Gardens has
to meet on Saturday mornings, as the cost of the
amusement it provides.

The hotel department, belonging to the same
proprietary, is of course worked by a totally
different staff. The in-door division has the services
of a manager, a housekeeper, fifteen barmaids,
three housemaids, two head waiters,
eighteen other waiters, a booking clerk, two
hall-keepers, and three porters. The out-door
division is managed by a head waiter with fifty
subordinates. In the kitchen there are four
professed cooks, with assistants, a kitchen boy,
a vegetable cook, two scullery men, two bakers
and confectioners, who are all overlooked by a
larder clerk. There is also a man whose sole
business is the production of soda-water and
ginger beer; and there is a cowkeeper.

A few years ago, supper was the great meal at
Cremorne, but under the present management
dinners have been made a feature of attraction
in the programme, and the number of diners
is now large. You can dine at various prices,
and have almost anything you like to order, for
the commissariat is on the most extensive scale.
Regarding the consumption of food, at this
single establishment, at the height of the season,
the following list may be taken as a daily average.
Six salmon, twenty pairs of soles, twelve gallons
of whitebait, one turbot, twenty-five pounds
of eels, twenty dozen of lobsters, twenty gallons
of shrimps, one saddle of mutton, one haunch,
six quarters of lamb and six legs, six joints of
roast beef, two fillets of veal, fifty pounds of
pressed beef, six dozen pigeon-pies, twenty-four
dozen fowls, twelve dozen ducks, twelve tongues,
six hams, forty pounds of bacon, two tubs of
butter, two sacks of flour, and two hundred
eggs. Of vegetable produce, the daily consumption
is fifty quarts of peas, three dozen
cauliflowers, one hundred-weight of potatoes,
twenty score lettuce, one hundred heads of beetroot,
thirty bunches of turnips and carrots, and
six hundred bundles of watercress. Six hundred-weight
of ice, two hundred-weight of sugar, and
twenty pounds of tea, are also consumed daily.

Here are two examples of the manner in
which the Business of Pleasure is carried on,
with the utmost regularity and precision; with
every precaution of check and counter-check,
book-keeping, and all the paraphernalia of ledger-demain
which respectability prescribes (in no
Manchester cotton-broker's or Liverpool merchant's
offices could the accounts be more
closely kept); with the liberal diffusion of very
large capital, and the employment of a very
large number of hard-working persons.

LITERARY ADVENTURERS.

LITERATURE in the Eighteenth Century was
something very different from literature in the
Nineteenth. We are not suggesting any comparison
as to degrees of merit, nor as to the respective
characteristics of books in those days
and these. There was one feature of the
Eighteenth Century literary world which, it is
to be hoped, has gone for ever. The literary
vagabond— the Grub-street man-of-all-work—
the poor starveling author, dependent for his
miserable bread and salt on the patron by whom
he was half pitied, half despised—exists no
longer in the intellectual republic. Letters may