made a great impression, from its gaudy appearance;
for his buttons as well as his knee-buckles were of diamonds. There was
of course great curiosity to know who this stranger was; and this
curiosity was heightened by an announcement that he proposed to appear
at the theatre in the character of Romeo. There was something so
unlike the impassioned lover in his appearance--so much that indicated
a man with few intellectual gifts--that everybody was prepared for a
failure. No one, however, anticipated the reality.

On the night fixed for his appearance the house was crowded to
suffocation. The playbills had given out that "an amateur of fashion"
would for that night only perform in the character of Romeo; besides,
it was generally whispered that the rehearsals gave indication of
comedy rather than tragedy, and that his readings were of a perfectly
novel character.

The very first appearance of Romeo convulsed the house with laughter.
Benvolio prepares the audience for the stealthy visit of the lover to
the object of his admiration; and fully did the amateur give the
expression to one sense of the words uttered, for he was indeed the
true representative of a thief stealing onwards in the night, "with
Tarquin's ravishing strides," and disguising his face as if he were
thoroughly ashamed of it. The darkness of the scene did not, however,
show his real character so much as the masquerade, when he came forward
with hideous grin, and made what he considered his bow,--which
consisted in thrusting his head forward and bobbing it up and down
several times, his body remaining perfectly upright and stiff, like a
toy mandarin with moveable head.

His dress was outre in the extreme: whether Spanish, Italian, or
English, no one could say; it was like nothing ever worn. In a cloak
of sky-blue silk, profusely spangled, red pantaloons, a vest of white
muslin, surmounted by an enormously thick cravat, and a wig a la
Charles the Second, capped by an opera hat, he presented one of the
most grotesque spectacles ever witnessed upon the stage. The whole of
his garments were evidently too tight for him; and his movements
appeared so incongruous, that every time he raised his arm, or moved a
limb, it was impossible to refrain from laughter: but what chiefly
convulsed the audience was the bursting of a seam in an inexpressible
part of his dress, and the sudden extrusion through the red rent of a
quantity of white linen sufficient to make a