boast of England through the centuries. Lands their forebears had won by
lance and sword, they were squandering away as fast as ever they could.
I, too, was known. All had heard the romance of the Beauty and Castle
Yard, and some had listened to Horry Walpole tell that foolish story of
Goble at Windsor, on which he seemed to set such store. They guessed at
my weight. They betted upon it. And they wished to know if I could spin
Mr. Brooks, who was scraping his way from table to table. They gave me
choice of whist, or picquet, or quinze, or hazard. I was carried away.
Nay, I make no excuse. Tho' the times were drinking and gaming ones, I
had been brought up that a gentleman should do both in moderation. We
mounted, some dozen of us, to the floor above, and passed along to a room
of which Fox had the key; and he swung me in on his arm, the others
pressing after. And the door was scarce closed and locked again, before
they began stripping off their clothes.

To my astonishment, Fox handed me a great frieze coat, which he bade me
don, as the others were doing. Some were turning their coats inside out;
for luck, said they; and putting on footman's leather guards to save
their ruffles. And they gave me a hat with a high crown, and a broad
brim to save my eyes from the candle glare. We were as grotesque a set
as ever I laid my eyes upon. But I hasten over the scene; which has long
become distasteful to me. I mention it only to show to what heights of
folly the young men had gone. I recall a gasp when they told me they
played for rouleaux of ten pounds each, but I took out my pocket-book as
boldly as tho' I had never played for less, and laid my stake upon the
board. Fox lost, again and again; but he treated his ill-luck with such
a raillery of contemptuous wit, that we must needs laugh with him.
Comyn, too, lost, and at supper excused himself, saying that he had
promised his mother, the dowager countess, not to lose more than a
quarter's income at a sitting. But I won and won, until the fever of