This enjoyment may arise in different persons from different sources.

The much praised and seldom cavilled at unity and completeness of the story may appeal to some.
There are others who are inclined towards elaborate plots as Sam Weller was to the "'rig'nal" of his subpoena.

It was a "gratifyin' sort o' thing, and eased his mind" to be aware of its existence, and that was all.

These latter find _their_ sources of enjoyment elsewhere, but everywhere else.

The abundance and the vividness of character-presentation; the liveliness and the abundance of the staging of that character; the variety of scene and incident--all most properly connected with the plot, but capable of existing and of being felt without it; the human dialogue; the admirable phrase in that dialogue and out of it, in the digressions, in the narrative, above, and through, and about, and below it all--these things and others (for it is practically impossible to exhaust the catalogue) fill up the cup to the brim, and keep it full, for the born lover of the special novel-pleasure.
In one point only was Fielding a little unfortunate perhaps: and even here the "perhaps" has to be underlined.