plays. The Beau got deeper and deeper into the difficulty, and at last
some mysterious quarrel about money with a gentleman who thenceforward
went by the name of Dick the Dandy-killer, obliged him to think of place
and poverty in another land. He looked in vain for aid, and among others
Scrope Davies was written to to lend him 'two hundred,' 'because his
money was all in the three per cents.' Scrope replied laconically--

'MY DEAR GEORGE,

'It is very unfortunate, but _my_ money is all in the three per
cents. Yours,

'S. DAVIES,'

It was the last attempt. The Beau went to the opera, as usual, and drove
away from it clear off to Dover, whence the packet took him to safety
and slovenliness in the ancient town of Calais. His few effects were
sold after his departure. Porcelaine, buhl, a drawing or two,
double-barrelled Mantons (probably never used), plenty of old wine,
linen, furniture, and a few well-bound books, were the Beau's assets.
His debts were with half the chief tradesmen of the West End and a large
number of his personal friends.

The climax is reached: henceforth Master George Bryan Brummell goes
rapidly and gracefully down the hill of life.

The position of a Calais beggar was by no means a bad one, if the
reduced individual had any claim whatever to distinction. A black-mail
was sedulously levied by the outcasts and exiles of that town on every
Englishman who passed through it; and in those days it was customary to