I have accordingly left Sir Francis Burdett on his legs, and repaired to the smoking-room; a large, wainscoted, uncarpeted place, with tables covered with green baize and writing materials.

On a full night it is generally thronged towards twelve o'clock with smokers.

It is then a perfect cloud of fume.

There have I seen, (tell it not to the West Indians,) Buxton blowing fire out of his mouth.

My father will not believe it.