The success was complete.

As to an American, London had never seen the like.
All this while the poor author of the sport was slowly dying.

The demands upon his animal spirits at the Savage Club, the bodily fatigue of "getting himself up to it," the "damnable iteration" of the lecture itself, wore him out.

George, his valet, whom he had brought from America, had finally to lift him about his bedroom like a child.

His quarters in Picadilly, as I have said, were just opposite the Hall, but he could not go backward and forward without assistance.