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na Caterina's in the same house, and on the same floor with Capuzzi. This good woman has a daughter, a great ally of my worthy hostess's younger girl, Margarita. Rosa, as she is called, has made up an acquaintance with your Mariana, through a hole which she has found, or perhaps made, in the partition between her mother's and Capuzzi's lodgings, and, when the old gentleman is enjoying his siesta, the two girls enjoy the sweets of mutual confidence at this hole."

"How fortunate!" cried Antonio; "I have only to give Margarita a letter, to be handed to Rosa, for Mariana."

"What's the use of that?" said Salvator, "I told you about Rosa and Margarita, only to account for my being in possession of the information I am now going to give you-and, by the way, I knew as early as yesterday evening all you related to me just now. But listen, for I have important news for you. The old dotard of an uncle is completely taken in by his niece's reception of him on his handbarrow yesterday morning; he believes that she at least half responds to his sentiments, and, in his ecstacy with the indignation she affected at our prank, and her declaration that she would repel with scorn any future attempt you might make to approach her, he hastily swore she had but to ask him for any thing that would afford her pleasure, and he would do it on the spot. Mariana modestly asked nothing more than that her zio carissimo would take her to the theatre outside the Porta del Popolo, to see Signor Formica!

"This took the old gentleman a little aback; however, he consulted with Dr. Splendiano Accoramboni and the little musico, and it was finally agreed that Pasquale and Pyramid shall escort Mariana to-morrow evening to the theatre in question. Pitichinaccio is to accompany them in his -or its feminine garb, as the young lady's suivonte, Signor Capuzzi having promised it a peruke in addition to the plush waistcoat, and having agreed to carry it home, turn about, with Dr. Pyramid, after the play. To-morrow the trio are to go with your fair Mariana, and a fair creature in truth she is, to Nicolo Musso's theatre, without the Porta del Popolo, to see Signor Formica."

We must here interrupt our narra

tive, to give the reader some information respecting Signor Formica, and the theatre of the Porta del Popolo.

The end of Lent generally finds the Romans not more hungry for flesh than for fun, and it was at this season that a certain Nicolo Musso had opened a theatre, in the locality referred to, in which he promised no other performances than those trifling improvised masques, which are so peculiar to, and characteristic of, Italy. The theatre was nothing more than a little booth; had a pit and gallery, but no boxes; was without an orchestra ; boasted, for a stage, only a carpeted platform, around which were displayed some hangings, of various colours, to serve instead of scenery, and offered to the audience no better accommodation than that of hard and uncomfortable wooden benches. All this made no favourable impression, the first night the place was opened, and a good deal of grumbling was to be heard at Signor Musso's calling such a paltry shed as that by the imposing name of theatre. But scarcely had the first two actors that appeared exchanged half a dozen sentences, ere the attention of the audience was arrested; and, as the piece proceeded attention became approval, approval admiration, and admiration enthusiasm, which vented itself in gales, tempests, torna, does of laughter and applause.

In fact, nothing could be more perfect than these improvised representa tions, which foamed over, as it were, with wit, whim, and good sense, and scourged the follies of the day with prodigious effect. Each one of the players gave his part in a way that left nothing to wish for; but the Pasquarello of the troop, above all others, carried away the spectators by his inimitable imitations of sundry wellknown personages at Rome, whose voice, gait, and whole exterior, as well as their characteristic ways of thinking and acting, he had the art of assuming with such extraordinary life and truth, that the illusion was complete. Nor did his wonderful pantomime, his lightning-like wit, and his inexhaustible oddities of thought and expression, yield less delight to the hearers than his unrivalled gift of mimicry. truth, the man who played the part of Pasquarello, and who called himself Signor Formica, seemed to have

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something about him that was not like other men; there was often in his tones and his movements something so strange, so indefinable, that the spectators felt a sort of creeping chill run over them in the very agony of their laughter. This player was worthily supported by the Doctor Graziano, who was an old Bolognese named Maria Agli, a man possessed of a power of gesture, a flexibility of voice, and a talent of saying the most delectable things in the world while seeming to talk the maddest nonsense, and vice versa, that surpassed anything of the kind ever known at Rome. What wonder that in a short time Nicolo Musso's little theatre, outside the Porta del Popolo, became the rage-that it was crowded, evening after evening, with delighted audiences-that Formica's name was in every mouth, and that, in the street as well as within the theatre, you heard enthusiastic play-goers ery, "Oh, Formica! Formica benedetto! Oh, Formicissimo!" Formica was in fact looked upon as a preternatural being-as something unearthly and inexplicable; and many an old dame, who had laughed her sides sore in the theatre, grew suddenly serious if any body ventured a criticism of anything in Formica's play, and answered with solemnity

"Scherza coi fanti,

Lascia star i santi.”

This feeling was due, however, not exclusively to Formica's great histrionic talents, but in a great measure to the mystery that enveloped his person. He was seen no where out of the theatre, and all endeavours to find out who he was, where he lived, &c., proved wholly vain. Nicolo Musso observed the most impenetrable secrecy on every thing relating to Signor Formica.

So much with respect to the theatre Mariana was so eager to visit.

"Now is the time," said Salvator, "for a bold stroke, and the return of the party from the theatre to the town, offers us the best possible opportunity for striking it."

As soon as it was night, Salvator and Antonio took their guitars, went to the Strada Ripetta, and gave Mariana a serenade, which was indeed intended not less for Capuzzi's discomfort than for his niece's delight. vator was one of the best musicians of his time, and Antonio's fine tenor was

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hardly inferior to that of the renowned Ceccarelli. Nevertheless, this did not secure for the performance of the two minstrels the patronage of Signor Pasquale, who presently appeared on the balcony, and, with much abuse, bid them go their ways, and not make such a riot before his house. His neighbours, however, whom the sweet sounds had drawn to their windows, called out. to him to hold his peace, asking him if he would suffer no one else to sing, because he and his consorts could do nothing but howl; and telling him he might take himself in out of that, and stuff his ears with cotton, if he did not like to hear the cavaliers' music. Accordingly, Signor Pasquale, to his infinite torment, was obliged to hear Salvator and Antonio sing song after song through the best part of the night, the theme being now the sweetness of young love, now the mockery of superannuated coxcombry and enamoured dotage. They saw Mariana at the window, too, with her uncle at her side, vainly conjuring her, with all manner of honied words, not to expose herself to the unwholesome nightair.

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The next evening, there appeared, passing along the Strada Ripetta, and towards the Porta del Popolo, the most remarkable party ever seen in Rome, out of carnival time. Signor Pasquale, with a new yellow feather, and for the rest, as the reader already knows him, tripped and minced his steps over the pavement as if the stones had been eggs, in shoes that were some sizes too small for him, handing along the lovely Mariana, whose fine shape and beautiful features were disguised by a shroud-like veil. On the other side of her marched Splendiano Accoramboni, in his great peruke, which covered his whole back, so that from behind, you would think you saw a prodigious head walking away upon two diminutive legs. Close on Mariana's keels, with a frightened and unhappy look, the little horror, Pitichinaccio, stumbled and stamped along like a tortoise on its hind flippers, in a gown of flame-coloured taffety, and with a whole garden of artificial flowers about his head. Such was the group which, followed by many wondering eyes, took its way on that eventful evening, to witness, for the first time, the delectable perform. ance of the renowned Signor Formica.

OUR PORTRAIT GALLERY.NO. XXXIX.

SIR ROBERT SALE.

THE hero of Jellalabad has fallen! And truly may it be said, that England mourns over Sale, more than she rejoices in her late Indian victories!

Sir Robert was the son of Colonel Sale, one of the old fighting colonels of the East India Company, who distinguished himself on several occasions in their service. He was, we believe, engaged in a sortie from Vellore when his gallant son was born, which event took place on the 2nd of September, 1782. His father was a Yorkshireman; his mother a Kentish woman, and daughter of Commodore Beynes, who was lost with his ship in the West Indies.

His first commission bears date the 24th of February, 1795, when he was gazetted as an ensign in the 36th foot. Two years after he became a lieutetant, and immediately proceeded to India. He there exchanged into the 12th, and served creditably with Lord Harris, during the campaign which terminated in Tippoo's death. He was engaged in the battle of Mallavelly, the first general action at which the hero of an hundred fights, His Grace the Duke of Wellington, was present. And at the taking of Seringapatam, which very soon fol lowed, he was very creditably distinguished.

The years which followed were eventful in the history of India. British power was then far from established or consolidated as it afterwards became ; and the native princes but sulkily submitted to what they deemed, and with colour of reason, foreign usurpation. The consequence was, intrigue and treachery; a show of peace, without the reality; a disposition to take advantage of every untoward circumstance by which the authority of the company might be narrowed or shaken; and a readiness to associate themselves with any allies by whose aid the objects of their fear and their aversion might be rooted out of the land. Such were the feelings which engendered the Maharatta war, during the whole of which, under General Stevenson, Sir Robert, still a subaltern, served with distinction. And had not a man of Lord Wellesley's firmness and decision held the office of governor-general; and had not our gallant army been commanded, as it was, by Lord Lake and Sir Arthur Wellesley; and had there not been amongst its subalterns many who were animated by the spirit, or influenced by the example of Sir Robert Sale, it is more than probable that a campaign which added millions to the exchequer, and kingdoms to the territory of the East India Company, would have terminated in their expulsion from India. It was not until 1806 that Sir Robert, being then in his twenty-fourth year, obtained his company.

In 1809, he married the distinguished lady who is now his sorrowful survivor. Lady Sale is the grandaughter of Alexander Wynch, a Yorkshireman, who was governor of Madras. Her father, George Wynch, was a civilian in the company's service. We need not say what an object of interest she became to the whole of Europe during her severe and perilous captivity under Akbar Khan; nor with what eagerness her journal of her trials and sufferings was devoured by the reading public after her so unexpected deliverance. Suffice it to say, she proved herself in all respects worthy of the heroic individual with whom her lot in life was united.

Three months after his marriage, we find Sir Robert engaged, under Colonel Chalmers, in storming the lines of Travancore; and he was present at the capture of the Mauritius, when that beautiful island, the paradise of the East, was taken from the French by General Abercrombie.

Had Sale possessed powerful friends, his promotion, no doubt, would have been more rapid. He had now seen muchand varied service, during more than three campaigns, in all of which he was actively engaged; and frequently, by his gallantry, attracted the marked approbation of his superiors. And yet, he had not risen higher than the rank of captain; nor was it until the year 1813,

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