Page:A voyage to Abyssinia (Salt).djvu/297

 As I am now upon the holiday sports of the Abyssinians, it may not be amiss to give some account of this man. Torre Máze, for such was his name, was one of the cleverest mimicks I have ever seen; the command which he possessed over his features almost equalling that which was displayed on the boards of our own theatres by Suet; an actor to whom he bore considerable resemblance. One of his chief acquirements consisted in the singular art of making other people (particularly strangers, who had not been apprized of his intention) imitate the contortions of his own features, a power which I repeatedly saw him exercise with success, and which, on one occasion, drew me into the same kind of ridiculous situation, without my being conscious of the changes in my countenance, until I was roused by a friendly hint from the Ras, who let me into the secret of what he was about. He afterwards performed, at the Ras's request, some finished pieces of acting that evinced very extraordinary native talent.

One of these consisted in the imitation of the behaviour of a chief in battle, who had not been remarkable for his courage. At first he came in very pompously; calling out in an overbearing manner to his soldiers, and vaunting what he would do when the enemy approached. He then mimicked the sound of horns heard from a distance, and the low beating of a drum. At hearing this, he represented the chief as beginning to be a little cautious, and to ask questions of those around him, whether they thought the enemy were strong. This alarm he continued to heighten in proportion as the enemy advanced, until at last he depicted the hero as nearly overcome by his fears; the musquet trembling in his hand, his heart panting, and his eyes completely fixed, while, without being conscious of it, his legs began to make a very prudent retreat. This part of his acting excited among the spectators its due share of contempt, when, dexterously laying hold of the circumstance, he affected to be ashamed of his cowardice, mustered up his whole stock of courage, and advanced, firing his matchlock at the same moment in a direction exactly contrary to that in which the enemy was supposed to stand, when, apparently frightened at the noise of his own gun, he sank