Lord Camelford, of duelling notoriety, one evening entered the Prince of Wales Coffee-house, Conduit Street, and, as was his usual custom, sat down and began to read the papers. A dashing fellow, and in his own opinion a first-rate blood, happening to come in, threw himself on the opposite seat of the same box, and, in a consequential tone, bawled: “Waiter! bring me a pint of madeira and a couple of wax candles, and put them in the next box.” He then drew over to himself Lord Camelford’s candles, and began to read, which proceeding merely caused his lordship to look indignant, whilst he continued reading his paper. The waiter soon reappeared, and announced the completion of the gentleman’s commands, who immediately lounged round to his own box. Lord Camelford, having now finished his paragraph, called out, in a mimicking tone: “Waiter! bring me a pair of snuffers.” These being quickly brought, his lordship laid down his paper, walked round the table at which the “blood” sat, snuffed out both the candles, and retired to his seat. Boiling with rage and fury, the indignant beau roared out: “Waiter, waiter! who the devil is this fellow that dares to insult a gentleman? What is he? What do they call him?” “Lord Camelford, sir,” replied the other in a tone scarcely audible. The coxcomb, horror-struck at the name of the dangerous nobleman, said tremblingly, “What have I to pay?” and, on being told, quietly laid down his money and sneaked away, leaving his madeira untasted. Disturbances were frequently caused in coffee-houses by dashing bucks who attempted either to dominate or to upset the domination of others. At the west end of Cecil Court, in St. Martin’s Lane, there existed, towards the end of the reign of George II, Pon’s Coffee-house, much frequented by foreigners of distinction, officers, and men about town. In the course of time the foreigners began to dominate this place, always contriving to get one of themselves into the chair, and occupying special seats which were kept for them alone. This created much ill-feeling, and at length reached the ears of the celebrated Lord Tyrawley, at that time a gay spark about town. Discussing the foreign ascendancy which prevailed in this place, Lord Tyrawley said, in his vigorous way: “It is all your own fault. The Frenchmen see you are afraid of them, and therefore behave with insolence. I am sure they are cowards, and if I was in the company I would undertake to insult the lot with impunity, and leave the room without being questioned or prevented by any one of them.” This led to a conversation, which ended in a bet that Lord Tyrawley would carry his threat into execution, and on an appointed day he proceeded to action.