According to Captain Gronow, George Harley Drummond, of the famous banking-house, Charing Cross, only played once in his whole life at White's Club, at Whist, on which occasion he lost L20,000 to Brummell. This even caused him to retire from the banking-house, of which he was a partner. 'Walpole and a party of friends (Dick Edgecumbe, George Selwyn, and Williams), in 1756, composed a piece of heraldic satire--a coat of arms for the two gaming clubs at White's--which was "actually engraven from a very pretty painting of Edgecumbe, whom Mr Chute, as Strawberry King at Arms," appointed their chief herald-painter. The blazon is vert (for a card-table); three parolis proper on a chevron sable (for a Hazard table); two rouleaux in saltire between two dice proper, on a canton sable; a white ball (for election) argent. The supporters are an old and young knave of clubs; the crest, an arm out of an earl's coronet shaking a dice-box; and the motto, Cogit amor nummi--"The love of money compels." Round the arms is a claret-bottle ticket by way of order.' 6. WATTIER'S CLUB. This great Macao gaming house was of short duration. Mr Raikes says of it:--'The club did not endure for twelve years altogether; the pace was too quick to last; it died a natural death in 1819, from the paralyzed state of its members. The house was then taken by a set of blacklegs, who instituted a common bank of gambling. To form an idea of the ruin produced by this short-lived establishment among men whom I have so intimately known, a cursory glance to the past suggests the following melancholy list, which only forms a part of its deplorable results: none of the dead reached the average age of man.' Among the members were Beau Brummell and the madman Bligh. 7. CROCKFORD'S CLUB. This once celebrated gaming house is now 'The Wellington,' where the rattle of knives and forks has succeeded that of dice. It was erected in 1827, and at its opening it was described as 'the new Pandemonium--the drawing-rooms, or real hell, consisting of four chambers: the first an ante-room, opening to a saloon embellished to a degree which baffles description; thence to a small curiously-formed cabinet or boudoir, which opens to the supper-room. All these rooms are panelled in the most gorgeous manner; spaces are left to be filled up with mirrors and silk, or gold enrichments; while the ceilings are as superb as the walls. A billiard-room on the upper floor completes the number of apartments professedly dedicated to the use of the members. Whenever any secret manoeuvre is to be carried on, there are smaller and more retired places, both under this roof and the next, whose walls will tell no tales.'