sh you a very good evening.'

Perhaps there is no vulgarity greater than that of rallying people on
their surnames, but our exquisite gentleman had not wit enough to invent
one superior to such a puerile amusement. Thus, on one occasion, he woke
up at three in the morning a certain Mr. Snodgrass, and when the worthy
put his head out of the window in alarm, said quietly, 'Pray, sir, is
your name Snodgrass?'--'Yes, sir, it is Snodgrass.' 'Snodgrass--
Snodgrass--it is a very singular name. Good-bye, Mr. _Snodgrass_.' There
was more wit in his remark to Poodle Byng, a well-known puppy, whom he
met one day driving in the Park with a French dog in his curricle. 'Ah,'
cried the Beau, 'how d'ye do, Byng? a family vehicle, I see.'

It seems incredulous to modern gentlemen that such a man should have
been tolerated even at a club. Take, for instance, his vulgar treatment
of Lord Mayor Combe, whose name we still see with others over many a
public-house in London, and who was then a most prosperous brewer and
thriving gambler. At Brookes' one evening the Beau and the Brewer were
playing at the same table, 'Come, _Mash-tub_', cried the 'gentleman,'
'what do you set?' Mash-tub unresentingly set a pony, and the Beau won
twelve of him in succession. Pocketing his cash, he made him a bow, and
exclaimed, 'Thank you, Alderman, in future I shall drink no porter but
yours.' But Combe was worthy of his namesake, Shakspere's friend, and
answered very aptly, 'I wish, sir, that every _other_ blackguard in
London would tell me the same.'

Then again, after ruining a young fool of fortune at the tables, and
being reproached by the youth's father for leading his son astray, he
replied with charming affectation, 'Why, sir, I did all I could for him.
I once gave him my arm all the way from White's to Brookes'!'

When Brummell really wanted a dinner, while at Calais, he could not give
up his impertinence for the sake of it. Lord Westmoreland called on him,
and, perhaps out of compassion, asked him to dine at _three o'clock_
with him. 'Your Lordship is very kind,' said the Beau, 'but really I
could not _feed_ at such an hour.' Sooner or later he was glad to _feed_
with any one who was toady enough to ask him. He was once placed in a
delightfully awkward position from having accepted the invitation of a
charitable but vulgar-looking Britisher at Calais. He was walking with
Lord Sefton, when the individual passed and nodded familiarly. 'Who's
your fr