"Byron's!" repeated the individual, with a smile of contempt; "no, no; there is nothing narcotic in Byron's poetry.

I don't like it.

I used to read it, but it thrilled, agitated, and kept me awake.

No; this is not Byron's poetry, but the inimitable -- -'s"-- mentioning a name which I had never heard till then.

"Will you permit me to look at it ?" said I.