Of another dandy, Scrope Davies, he says: “As was the case with many of the foremost men of that day, the greater number of his hours were passed at the gambling table, where, for a length of time, he was eminently successful; for he was a first-rate calculator. He seldom played against individuals; he preferred going to the regular establishments. But, on one occasion, he had, by a remarkable run of good luck, completely ruined a young man, who had just reached his majority, and come into the possession of a considerable fortune. The poor youth sank down upon a sofa, in abject misery, when he reflected that he was a beggar; for he was on the point of marriage. Scrope Davies, touched by his despair, entered into conversation with him, and ended by giving him back the whole of his losses, upon a solemn promise that he would never play again. The only thing that Scrope retained of his winnings was one of the little carriages of that day, called a _dormeuse_ from its being fitted up with a bed, for he said, ‘When I travel in it, I shall sleep the better for having acted rightly.’ The youth kept his promise; but when his benefactor wanted money, he forgot that he owed all he possessed to Scrope’s generosity, and refused to assist him. “For a long time Scrope Davies was a lucky player; but the time arrived when Fortune deserted her old favourite; and, shortly after the Dandy dynasty was overthrown, he found himself unable to mingle with the rich, the giddy, and the gay. With the wreck of his fortune, and, indeed, with little to live upon beyond the amount of his own Cambridge fellowship, he sought repose in Paris, and there, indulging in literary leisure, bade the world farewell.”