********

“I hope Logic will be able to accompany us in our visit to Lord Liberal’s Gallery,” said Tom, when he was interrupted by the footman putting the following letter into his hand—“Aye,” observed Tom to Jerry, “here is a note from Bob; let us hear what he has to offer upon the subject:—”

“There’s something behind this letter that I do not like,” said Tom; “Bob is very ill, you may rely upon it, or else he would not be so pressing for us to visit him.” “Yes, I am afraid it is too true,” replied Jerry; “but let us hope he is not so bad, neither, as you perceive, he is joking about my late affair.” “Joke with you!” echoed Tom, “I expect Logic will die with a joke in his mouth, he is so fond of punning? But we will lose no time, as I am anxious to ascertain the true cause of his illness.”

Upon the arrival of our heroes at the apartments of Logic, they found him sitting at a table, in his arm chair, with pens and ink before him: his countenance most woefully changed for the worse. Indeed, Tom and Jerry were quite shocked with his altered appearance in so short a time. He endeavoured to smile upon them, as usual; but it savoured more of the “ghastly!” than that sort of enlivening humour which so generally imparted animation to his cheerful face. “I am very glad to see you, my boys,” said he, “before I start on my long journey, which I have been preparing for these last five or six days.” “I was not aware you had any such intention,” answered Tom; “but may I ask, where are you going?”

“To that bourne from whence no traveller returns!”

replied Logic, accompanied by a most penetrating look at the Corinthian. “Dr. Finish’em has given me my quietus, like an honest fellow. On feeling my pulse, he observed—“Your hour-glass is almost run out! Tempus fugit! Therefore, what you have to do, let it be done quickly, or else it will not be done at all!” Old Bolus, too, was rather funny with me on the occasion; “I know,” said he, “your Will was always good to serve everybody; therefore, Mr. Logic, have a good WILL now towards your friends.” I took Pill and Potions advice, and the few hours allotted to me I have made the best use of that I possibly could; and here is my WILL for your approbation.” The tear started down Tom’s cheek, and Jerry was much affected by the unexpected circumstance. “I sincerely hope it is not so bad as you apprehend,” said Tom. “Yes, my dear friends,” replied Logic, “it is all over with me. I have suffered severely from an inflammation in my bowels; but the pain has subsided, and that is the sign of approaching death. You will perceive, on looking over my TESTAMENT,[39] that I have not adhered to any of the technical terms of lawyers, being well aware that the distribution of my property will never puzzle the pericranium of the Lord Chancellor, or occasion a row among the learned brethren, to obtain a brief upon the subject; and if I have not made myself perfectly intelligible, I hope you will now point out any errors that may appear to you, in order to avoid disputes hereafter. It is true, I have no blunt to leave you, my boys, but several notes, which I hope, will always bear an interest, and prove as valuable to you in the hour of need—as cash! You will, my dear Tom, as my last request, read it aloud, for the approbation of my friend Jerry.”

THE LAST WORDS AND TESTAMENT OF ROBERT LOGIC.

Being wide awake—my UPPER STORY in perfect repair—and down to what I am about—I have seized hold of the feather, with a firm hand, to render myself intelligible, and also to communicate the objects I have in view; I give and bequeath unto my friend, Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., my tile, my castor, my topper, my upper-crust, my pimple coverer, otherwise MY HAT, which, I hope, will never be the means of changing the appearance of “an old friend with a new face.” To my out and out friend and companion, Corinthian Tom, I give my spread, my summer-cabbage, my water-plant, but more generally understood as my Umbrella; who, I feel assured will never let it be made use of as a shelter for duplicity, ingratitude, or hum-buggery of any sort! Also, to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., I resign my fam-snatchers, i.e., my Gloves, under the consideration, if ever he should part with them, that they are only to be worn by those persons, who have “a hand to give, and a heart that forgives!” Likewise to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., I bequeath my four-eyes, my barnacles, my green-specs, but amongst opticians, denominated Spectacles. It is my sincere wish, that nothing green will be ever seen appertaining to them, except their colour; I also hope they will not, upon any occasion whatever magnify Trifles into difficulties: but enable the wearer to see his way through Life as clear as crystal! I press upon Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., his acceptance of my fogle, my wipe, my clout, my sneezer, politely termed a Silk Handkerchief. This article has often been used to wipe off a tear of pity, and always forthcoming at a tale of distress; may it ever be at hand on such Christian-like occasions! To Philip Timothy Splinter, Esq., I bequeath my upper tog, my Benjaman, my wrapper, generally called a Top Coat, with the advice, that however it may be mended and mended again, he will never let it be turned against unavoidable misfortune, and charity. My ticker, my tatler, my thimble, otherwise my Watch, I bequeath to Jerry Hawthorn, Esq., as an emblematical gift to keep Time upon all occasions—to remember its inestimable value, and also to recollect that he will, some day or another, be wound-up for the last time. My two Seals I give conjointly to my most valued and dear friends, Corinthian Tom and Jerry Hawthorn, Esqrs., in order, if possible, that the bonds of friendship may be more firmly sealed between them, to the end of their lives. To Miss Mary Rosebud, I give and bequeath my Diamond Ring, as a representative of her excellent brilliant qualities, and also as a golden fence, to secure her virtue, reputation, and dignity. To my worthy friend, Sir John Blubber, Knt. I give and bequeath my padders, my stampers, my buckets, otherwise my Boots, whose knowledge of mankind, united with kindness towards the failings of others, teaches him to tread lightly o’er the ashes of the dead! To prevent mistakes respecting my Bit, I have not a bit to leave; it having been with me, for some time past—Pockets to Let, unfurnished; Sic transit gloria mundi! But nevertheless, I trust I have always proved amicus humani generis! My Books having been long booked for their value, and afforded me consolation and support in the hour of need—I, therefore, leave as I found it, for other folks to bustle in, that Great Volume—the World! which upon all occasions, was my sheet-anchor! assisted by the following good old maxims, as my guide:—

Tempus edax rerum.—Time that devours all things.
Vincit veritas.—Truth conquors.
Principiis obsta.—Resist the first beginnings.
Vitiis nemo sine nascitur.—No man without his faults.
Spes mea in Deo.—My hope is in God.
Spero meliora.—I hope for better things.
Robert Logic.

Tom and Jerry were both considerably affected at the kindness displayed towards them by the Oxonian; and had it been at any other time, the singularity of the above Testament would have produced much laughter between them; at all events, it convinced them that Logic still preserved his character for ORIGINALITY. Three proper witnesses, disinterested persons, belonging to the house, were instantly called in to sign it, when the Testament, in the eye of the law, became a valid document. “My dear Jerry,” said Logic, “as we must soon part, I had intended to offer a few remarks for your consideration; but, finding that my strength will not second my intentions, I shall be very concise on the matter: you must perceive that the comical part of my career is at an end, and you are well aware that I always was a merry fellow; but, as Mercutio says, I shall be found a grave man to-morrow. Endeavour, then, “To do unto all men, as you would they should do unto you,” and you will not be a great way off the right path to happiness. I feel myself very faint; my breath getting short; and having settled everything to my satisfaction, have the kindness to assist me into bed, that I may die like a Christian—contented, and in peace with all mankind! Tom, give me your hand; Jerry, yours likewise—I grasp them both with sincerity!” Then looking them full in the face; with a placid smile on his countenance, his last words were—“God bless you!” His lip fell; his eyes lost their brilliancy; and the once-merry, lively, facetious, friendly Logic, was now numbered with the dead!

For several days, our heroes were absorbed in grief, at the sudden loss of their much-admired and valued friend; and Corinthian House, for a long time after the decease of the Oxonian, was dull in the extreme. The funeral of Logic, under the direction of Tom, was of the most splendid description; and a handsome monument was also erected by his order, bearing the following inscription:—

This Tablet
Was erected in remembrance of
ROBERT LOGIC, Esq.,
Who was viewed throughout the circle of his acquaintances as
A MAN,
In every sense of the word,
Valuable as Gold!
Mirth and Good Humour were always at his elbows; but
DULL CARE
Was never allowed a seat in his presence.
He played the first fiddle in all companies, and was never out
of tune:
Bob was a wit of the first quality;
But his Satire was general, and levelled against the follies
of mankind:
Personality and Scandal he disclaimed:
His exertions were always directed to make others happy.
As a Choice Spirit, he was unequalled;
And as a Sincere Friend, never excelled; but in his character of a
MAN OF THE WORLD,
Bob Logic was a Mirror to all his Companions.
Mankind had been his study; and he had perused the Great
Book of Life
With superior advantages; and his Commentaries on
Men and Manners
Displayed not only an enlarged mind; but his Opinions were
gentlemanly and liberal.
His intimate knowledge of Vice had preserved him from
being Vicious.
By which source he was able to discriminate with effect; and
Virtue appeared more beautiful in his eyes.
Truth was his polar star; and Integrity his sheet anchor.
Adversity could not reduce his noble mind,
And Prosperity was not suffered to play tricks with his feelings;
HE WAS A MAN UNDER ALL CIRCUMSTANCES!
Flattery he despised; while Candour obtained his respect;
and the corner stone of his character was—Sincerity.
He was charitable, but not ostentatious, and a well-wisher to
all the world.
His Friends,
TOM AND JERRY,
Lamenting his severe loss in society, trust, that upon the
AWFUL, DAY OF RECKONING,
The Great Auditor of Accounts will find his Balance Sheet
correct, (errors excepted):
And as the whole tenour of Bob Logic’s life had been A Volume
of Pleasure they sincerely hope it will be
Well Bound at the last!

CHAPTER XV.

The sudden death of Logic made quite a chasm in the movements of Tom and Jerry; indeed he had been the principal caterer for their amusements, and our heroes were not only in grief for his loss, but reduced completely to a stand-still without him. It is true; Jerry had previously made up his mind to quit London, but the sudden demise of the Oxonian positively hurried him out of town. The Metropolis had lost its attractions upon the feelings of Jerry, and he flattered himself that the neighbourhood of Hawthorn Hall, the sports of the field, and the fascinating company of Miss Rosebud, would, in a great measure, afford relief to his mind, and ultimately restore him to cheerfulness. The parents of Jerry were overjoyed in beholding their darling son once more safe under their roof, and the Corinthian also received the most friendly congratulations on his arrival at Hawthorn Hall. The sombre appearance of our heroes, who were in deep mourning for the Oxonian, operated as a great drawback to the festivities which under different circumstances, had been intended to celebrate their reception; indeed, at every step they took, the loss of Logic was sincerely regretted by all those persons who had ranked him as one of their best acquaintances, during his last appearance at Hawthorn Hall. “To me, the loss of Logic is incalculable,” said Jerry, to his father; “he was not only able to advise, but his manner of doing it was so persuasive, that it was impossible not to benefit by his experience; more especially at my time of life, when such experience was by far more valuable to my mind, than any knowledge I might have obtained of men and manners, through my own exertions!”

Our hero lost no time in visiting Rosebud Cottage. On his entrance he was welcomed by the father of our heroine with no common sort of ardour; but, on his being ushered into the presence of Mary Rosebud, he felt confused, nay, ashamed; her looks, although accompanied with a smile, nevertheless told him that he had been neglectful towards her, during his residence in London, and she gently chided him for his want of attention. “I am afraid, Sir,” said she, “it has been with you like most professed lovers, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’” Jerry could not reply; his excuses were lame and impotent; indeed, he was aware that he was in fault, and, therefore, sensibly threw himself upon the mercy of the Court, and sued in the most persuasive manner for pardon. The good nature of Mary, aided by a little of something else—perhaps, love—could not resist the application; and she generously admitted that some allowance might be made for him, when surrounded by the attractions of London. “Generous girl!” exclaimed Jerry, “the remainder of my life shall be devoted to your happiness.”

Jerry being now perfectly established in the good opinion of Miss Rosebud, became doubly attentive in his visits; when the minutes, the hours, the days, nay, the weeks almost appeared to fly, so fascinated was Jerry with the company and attractions of our charming heroine. In truth, the time of Jerry was completely occupied with hunting, dinners, card-parties, assemblies, &c., accompanied by Tom; and his life appeared so happy, that he congratulated himself on his return to the seat of his father, also upon the hair-breadth escapes he had met with, during his Day and Night Scenes in London.

********

********

During a walk one fine evening, and Hawthorn Church appearing in view, Jerry was determined to make the best use of the opportunity which offered itself, by soliciting Mary Rosebud to name the day that was to complete his happiness. “I have always promised my father,” replied Mary, with the utmost frankness, “that he should name the wedding-day; therefore, gain his consent, and you will have no complaint to make against my decision.” “I will be your father upon that joyful occasion,” said the Corinthian, “if you will permit me, my dear Miss Rosebud, as I am very anxious to bestow on my friend Jerry one of the greatest treasures in this life,—a most amiable companion and virtuous wife.” Miss Rosebud blushed at the remark, but nevertheless felt pleased with the compliment paid by the Corinthian; and the subject was dropped until they arrived at Rosebud Cottage. The father of our heroine, on being made acquainted with the wishes of the young folks, observed, “I am quite content; and I sincerely hope they will prove one of the happiest couples alive. Therefore, let the settlements be drawn immediately, the licence procured without delay, the dresses made offhand, our friends invited in good time, and Old Jollyboy requested to hold himself in readiness. Now, having settled this marriage business to my mind, let us have a jolly evening together, before we part; and to-morrow, Jerry, what do you say to a day’s hunting? And your cousin, Tom, I have no doubt, will make one of the party.” “It will afford me great pleasure,” replied the Corinthian; “and we will be in time to start with you.” The evening was spent in great jollity.—“The single married, and the married happy,” were toasted over and over again by the party, until Jerry became as lively as a lark, Old Rosebud roaring out the view halloo! The Corinthian quite merry and facetious, and Old Jollyboy rather above par, hiccoughing, every now and then, with an attempt to pun, that he was “fond of (a) good living!”

Our heroes were ready at the appointed time to take the field with Old Rosebud; the latter fox-hunter was in high glee with the excellence of the day’s sport, Jerry equally delighted, and Tom had just declared he had not been so pleased for a long time; but, unfortunately for him, in his bold endeavour to clear some high palings, his horse fell with him, and he was thrown some distance. On being raised from the ground, it was discovered that his neck was dislocated, and he expired instantly. Upon Jerry’s ascertaining the fate of the Corinthian, his feelings were so completely overcome, that he fell down in a fit quite senseless.

To describe the wretched state of mind which Jerry suffered for several days, at the unexpected accident and melancholy death of his dearest friend in the world would have baffled the poet’s skill and the painter’s talents to pourtray—the shock was so sudden, and the loss to our hero so great, that it was impossible to have been otherwise; just at the moment when happiness appeared to be within his grasp, and he was also slowly recovering from the serious effects which the death of Logic had also made upon his feelings, to have met with such an immense blow—the death of Corinthian Tom—shattered his nerves all to pieces, and anything in the shape of consolation appeared to him officious, troublesome, and unavailing! Ultimately, by the soothing attention of Miss Rosebud, the friendly interference of the old fox hunter, her father, the unremitting kindness of his parents, and the cheering, good advice of Old Jollyboy, by degrees he was restored to a state of convalescence.

From “Gay to grave,” was now the reversed scene for the contemplation of our hero, and the old proverb verified to an awful extent, “that many things happen between the cup and the lip;” the marriage rites were now suspended to make way for the performance of the burial service. The remains of the Corinthian were conveyed to town with the utmost solemnity, and interred in the family vault, with all those obsequies due to his rank; and although Jerry remained extremely ill, and scarcely able to stand upon his legs, yet he was determined, at all hazards, to pay the last respect to his most valued friend and relative, Corinthian Tom, by his appearance at the funeral in the character of chief mourner. Jerry did not quit the Metropolis until he had settled every thing to his satisfaction respecting the interment of the Corinthian. Upon the return of Jerry to Hawthorn Hall, several days elapsed before anything like pleasure occupied his mind; he positively refused to quit the house, and he also shunned the society of his acquaintances. “It requires no common fortitude,” observed Jerry, to Old Jollyboy, “to bear up against the loss of two such invaluable friends as Tom and Logic, snatched, as it were, in an instant from me, when I stood most in need of their assistance, and to whom I am principally indebted for the knowledge of mankind which I now possess. In Logic, I have lost a model of experience, a fund of talent, and a heart overflowing with the milk of human kindness. By the death of Tom, I shall heavily miss that urbanity, discernment and liberality, which highly distinguishes the polished, and thorough-bred gentleman. I am now left to decide for myself; but, nevertheless, I hope I shall sincerely profit by their example. Appearances, I am perfectly aware might be against both of their characters with the fastidious part of society, yet hypocrisy, cant, humbug, or dissimulation, never disgraced their conduct: a love of honour shone conspicuously throughout their actions, and, by an acknowledgment of their own errors, displayed a noble generosity towards the faults of others. They taught me not to spend time in regretting any mistakes that I had made, but to exert myself upon every occasion to repair them. This maxim shall be my guide through life—I will not repine, but struggle with fortitude against unavoidable calamities, and endeavour to make myself happy under all circumstances of my existences.”

Jerry immediately gave orders for a very handsome stone to be placed in the most conspicuous situation near to the spot where Corinthian Tom lost his life, with the following inscription engraved upon it:—

Near to this Spot of Earth,
Lost his Life by a Fall from his Horse while Hunting,
CORINTHIAN TOM,
One of the highest-bred creatures in the Universe, and who got
over the ground like nothing else but
A GOOD ONE:
In the walks of fashion, he was a Corinthian;
Amongst the Bloods, a bon vivant;
On the Turf a real Sportsman; in the Chase, an Out and Outer;
And in his deportment to every person
A PERFECT GENTLEMAN!
If he could not put in a positive claim to the title of
The Rose and Pillar of the State.
No man in the world ever possessed the Suaviter in Modo
and Fortiter, in re
In a more eminent degree than
Corinthian Tom.

This Remembrance has been erected by his Relative and
sincere Friend
JERRY HAWTHORN, Esq.,
Under the hope, that when he hears the Last View Halloo!
His Pedigree may be found sound; his Race complete, by
Winning the Happy Stakes; and nothing against him
Noted down in the
Steward’s Book.

“I admit your loss has been great, and I also admire the tenour of your argument,” observed Mr. Rosebud, “but, nevertheless, ‘grieving’s a folly;’ there is a time for every thing, as my friend Old Jollyboy would have observed, therefore, Jerry, having done every thing becoming the character of a sincere friend, I think you ought now to turn to a more pleasant view of the picture, and once more give your acquaintances the benefit of your company.” “Good!” exclaimed Old Jollyboy; “for some time past, I have been holding myself in readiness to receive a summons to perform a certain ceremony, without Squire Hawthorn has given up the marriage altogether. All in good time perhaps!”

The trifling hint was quite sufficient, and Jerry, lest his conduct should be thought cold or neglectful, presented himself, in the course of the morning, “for better or for worse,” to Miss Rosebud, at the Cottage, anxiously soliciting her to name the wedding day. The disposition of Mary Rosebud was of the most ingenious nature, and her attachment to our hero too great to keep him long in suspense. “Perhaps, Sir,” said Mary, “I ought to say ‘No!’—and insist upon more time, to enable me to form a correct opinion of your conduct, whether you have duly considered the serious and important charge of martrimony, and the confinement also attendant on such a state; and, likewise, freely consenting, as it is termed, to surrender a part of your liberty, before I say ‘Yes.’ But I prefer being frank on the present occasion; and, relying on your honour, generosity, and true love, I am content, whenever my father shall think proper to name the day.” “Generous, amiable girl,” replied Jerry, “I have well considered the subject, in every point of view; but I will make no professions: yet my endeavours throughout my life, shall be to strengthen, what the Poet has so beautifully described, the

“Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets.”

The day was immediately fixed for the nuptials by Mr. Rosebud; the marriage ceremony was performed by Old Jollyboy, and when Miss Rosebud answered “I will!” the old Curate was so full of joy, that the word “Good!” had almost escaped his lips. The estates of the Rosebuds and the Hawthorns were united, and Mary and Jerry made the happiest of the happy. The wedding-day was devoted to pleasure. “It shall be kept in the old style,” said Jerry’s father; “every body, shall be welcome; we will have a dance upon the green; all the lads and lasses in the village shall be invited to celebrate the wedding; we will broach a tub of ‘humming bub!!’ and nothing shall be wanting to promote mirth and harmony.” “Good!” said Old Jollyboy, over his pipe; but, long before the approach of night, the “gaily circulating glass” had been pushed about by Old Hawthorn to all the company—that, suffice to observe; as we have too much respect for the cloth to tell tales, the fine old Curate required the assistance of “Amen,” the clerk, to make Jollyboy “all right” at the Curacy.

The honey-moon was, of course, a raptuous one; after which Jerry might be viewed as a “settled being.” Time rolled over pleasantly with him and his bride; and the sports of the field, if possible, he enjoyed with greater zest than heretofore. His fire-side was a pattern of domestic comfort, although a sigh would now and then escape his lips, whenever the thoughts of Tom and Logic came over his mind. In every other respect, Jerry was a picture of contentment; determined to profit by his experience, and to turn to a good account, for the benefit of himself and his family, the many hair-breadth escapes and dangerous adventures he had met with in his Day and Night Scenes in Life in London. He was the delight of all the companies he visited in the neighbourhood of Hawthorn Hall; his general conduct was the praise of the surrounding gentry, and he was admitted, by all parties, to sustain the character of a perfect Country Gentleman. We now take our leave of Jerry, “all happiness,” with his amiable wife, a fine estate, a capital stud of horses, and a crack pack of hounds, to promote—

LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.

The End.

KEY to PERSONS AND PLACES and an Etymological and Critical VOCABULARY AND GLOSSARY Of Flash and Slang Terms occurring in the course of this work.

LONDON:— E. A. BECKETT, PRINTER, 111 & 113, KINGSLAND ROAD.

KEY TO PERSONS AND PLACES, &c.

A.

A.B.C.—Any easy matter, the A.B.C. of the affair, i.e., the whole of the particulars can be comprehended as soon, or as easy as you can say A.B.C.:—Then comes answer like A.B.C. book.—Shakespeare.

Above Board.—In open sight, all fair and square, dealing without artifice or trick.

Above Par.—Tolerably drunk—also to be possessed of money beyond one’s actual expenses—plenty of the needful—lots of blunt!—able to post-the-pony—lay down the rag!—chink the ochre! &c., in case of laying a wager or making an investment.

Ace of Spades.—A widow.

Adelphi.—Greek for brothers: several streets on the south side of the Strand, London, erected about 1768 by the brothers, John, Robert, James, and William Adam, after whom the streets are named.

Adelphi Theatre.—Formerly called the Sans Pareil, opened under the management of Mr. and Miss Scott, 27 Nov., 1806. Messrs. Rodwell and Jones purchased the property and opened on Monday, Oct. 18, 1819, and issued the first playbill bearing the name of “Adelphi Theatre.” Messrs. Mathews and Yates became managers, Sept. 29, 1828—Mr. Charles Mathews—Mathews at Home—died the 28th of June, 1835. The theatre was then let for the remainder of the season to Messrs. Ephraim Bond and Company, and announced to be “under the management of Mrs. Nisbett.” After that Mr. Yates had the sole management. In 1840 Messrs. Yates and Gladstone were the proprietors. Mr. Benjamin Webster became lessee, and Madame Celeste directress, 1844. The theatre was re-built and opened, with improved arrangements 27 Dec., 1858, as The New Adelphi. In 1870 it was announced that while Mr. Ben. Webster was sole proprietor, Mr. Webster and Mr. F. B. Chatterton were joint managers. After several changes Messrs. A. and S. Gatti became sole proprietors and managers.

Air and Exercise.—Or, Shoving the tumbler. Being whipped at the cart’s tail.

Alderman.—A turkey, Alderman in chains, a roast turkey well-stuffed and garnished with pork sausages; the latter emblematical of the gold chain worn by that civic dignitary.

Ale Draper.—The alehouse-keeper; a rum cull, a squirt quester. Ale spinner, a brewer or publican.

Alive.—Active, smart, to be ever on the alert. Alive to the subject; the game, the fact, or to any circumstance. Tom’s alive to his own interest, let him alone for that; he’s wide-a-wake!

All Hands to the Pump.—All force concentrated to one spot.

All-Max in the East.—Open to all influenced by none—was held at the Coach and Horses public-house, Nightingale-lane, East Smithfield, and was frequented by most of the Wapping elegantes. Blue Ruin and reels were generally the order—rather the disorder of the evening.

All Out.—The whole of the reckoning. “How stands the great account t’wixt me and vengeance!”

Almack’s.—Aristocratic exclusiveness. A ball given by the highest nobility. Almack’s means properly a suite of assembly rooms in King Street, St. James’s, London, built in 1765 by a Scotchman named Macall, who inverted his name to obviate all prejudice and hide his origin. Balls, presided over by a committee of ladies of the highest rank, used to be given in these rooms; and to be admitted to them was as great a distinction as to be introduced at Court. The rooms are now called Willis’s from the present proprietor.

If once to Almack’s you belong,
Like Monarch’s, you can do no wrong;
But banished thence on Wednesday night,
By Jove, you can do nothing right.

Alone.—A knowing one may be trusted “Alone” by reason of his experience in worldly matters.

Angelics.—Young ladies. N.B. Unmarried!

Annointed.—Knowing, ripe for mischief, full of courage and energy for any desperate exploit.

Apartments to Let.—It is said that the “widow’s cap,” denotes that there are Apartments to Let! Also of an empty-headed or shallow-cove.

Argument.—The best of the. Any man with a pair of leather lungs has the best of an argument at a tavern, unless there be an other present who can lay heavy sums which are quite uncoverable that his opinion or assertion is correct. A stable-keeper being beaten in argument by one of the leather-lunged breed, produced a large roll of bank-notes and a handful of sovereigns, smacking them down on the table exclaiming, “There you —— look at that; if I am a fool my money’s none. That beats you!”

Arm Pits.—To work under the arm pits, is to practise only such depredations as will amount on conviction to transportation. By following this course and system, a thief avoids the halter, or neck-squeezer! which certainly is applied above the arm pits.

Arm Props.—Crutches.—Go it ye cripples crutches are cheap.

Astley’s Amphitheatre.—Was built and opened by Philip Astley, 1773.

Astronomer.—A star-gazer. A horse that carries his head high-up in the air.

At Fault.—At a loss; not knowing in what direction to proceed, like dogs who have lost scent of a hare or fox. This sporting phrase is often used, figuratively to signify that a man has been defeated in his pursuits, and does not know how to extricate himself from difficulty.

At Home.—To Provincials, this phrase may operate rather as a sort of paradox—as houses and persons, in general are robbed not “at home” but when the parties are abroad.

Awake.—Knowing; acquainted with, aware of, or knowing what is going on. Awake to the move, aware of the proceedings; Stow the books, the culls are awake, Hide the cards, the persons know what we intend to do. This word is used on many occasions, and in most situations of life, being expressive of attention.

B.

Babes in the Wood.—Persons confined in the stocks or pillory, said also of dice.

Babes of Grace.—Puritanical, sanctified-looking persons; also drunken psalm-smiting cobblers.

Back-slums.—Beggars’ meeting places; Dyot Street, St. Giles’; Kent Street, in the Borough, &c. The expression applies to all Metropolitan receptacles of mendicants, prostitutes, thieves, and rogues of every degree to get a night’s lodging. Back Slummers, dirty, common, low, and vagrant people who reside in the Back-slums.

Bag the Swag.—Pocket, or put into a bag, the plunder, or hide the stolen property.

Baked.—Done up, exhausted, tired out, “When I got to the top of the hill I was regularly—Baked!”—Soft-baked in also employed to persons who lack worldly wisdom.

Baker, Charles.—Comedian, died November 26, 1844.

Bang-up.—Quite right, the thing! the go! done complete, in handsome style, quite fashionable, at the top of the mode.

Bank.—A snug and secure place to deposit plunder; Bank the rag, to take care of money.

Barbers’ Clerks.—Shopmen, and poor ill-paid and half-starved apprentices, or conceited ignorant shop-boys.

Barking Irons.—Pistols, from the explosions being supposed to resemble the barking of a dog.

Baron Nab’em.—Otherwise Nicholas Borrowbody. The individual bearing this name who devotes his attentions to Logic, in his moments of retirement, is Mr. James Soares, more familiarly termed Jemmy Soares; well-known in the sporting world, particularly among the friends and supporters of the Ring, and long the President of the Daffy Club, a society held at Belcher’s, the Castle Tavern, Holborn. Events have occurred to prevent his occupying so prominent a place, as formerly, in the list of milling amateurs: but his open heartedness, his native humour, his liberal temper, and convivial disposition, will long be remembered with pleasure, by the numerous pals, who were wont to surround him.

Barrymore, W.—Comedian, died in America, November 24, 1846.

Baxter’s Hats.—A celebrated Topper-maker to the Fancy. Formerly in high repute with the amateurs, in respect to giving the knowledge-box an important look!

Beaks.—Justices, from their former cormorantish qualities—“Your vulture hath a devil of a beak!” But things are different. The Magistrates of the present day, that is the Metropolitan ones, are, with some few exceptions an honour to the Bench. Beaksmen, constables, or police officers.

Beat.—A watchman’s walk, the district in which he is licensed to beat at will all Her Majesty’s peaceable and loving subjects.

Beaver.—A hat; probably from generally possessing very little beaver. My last beaver turned out to be all silk, as Jack Bannister said, “The loss was felt”:—I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.—Shakespeare.

Beeswax.—Cheese, generally Gloucester, from the similarity between them—“Lets have a twopenny burster, half a quartern o’ beesvax, an ha’p’oth o’ ingens, and a dollop o’ salt along vith it, vill you?”—Dusty Bob.

Beggars.—Our street beggars have existed from time immemorial; their profession had become, in some measure, sanctioned by long tolerance. They were a merry, ingenious, persevering, and almost innoxious race. They are associated with our earliest recollections; like Springlove in Brome’s healthful and truly old English opera, “The Jovial Crew!” we at certain seasons feel almost a yearning to join them. Their wild free life, their careless revelry, present charms to us in retrospection, to which we are not wholly proof!—we think upon the “Beggar’s Bush” of those twin stars Beaumont and Fletcher. Classic recollections bring Belisarius with his “Date Obolum” to our mind. Bamfylde Moore Carew; Sir Simon Montford, The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green; King Cophueta, who loved the Beggar Maid, the valiant beggar who beat the redoubted Robin Hood to a standstill are among the most favourite heroes of our childhood. The race whose cause we are attempting to advocate, had at least the claim of destitution on our attention; as Lubin Log has it, our bounty was at all events “hobtional.” But what shall we say of the wealthy and the great, who have become beggars upon the public purse for the purpose of putting these their now persecuted rivals down? They have no claim, no excuse—away with them—shame on such monopoly!

Beggar’s Opera.—There were two public-houses in Church Lane, St. Giles’s; chiefly supported by beggars, one, called the Beggar’s Opera, which was the Rose and Crown, and the other the Robin Hood—at both of which Noah Ark Societies—that is “Motley-Crew Societies”—were held. The number that frequented these houses at various times, was computed to be from two to three hundred, and the receipts at a moderate calculation could not be less than from three to five shillings a day each person, frequently more.

Bellamy, William.—Bass Singer, died January 3, 1843, aged 74.

Belch.—All sorts of malt liquor, beer and porter being apt to cause uncomfortable eructations:—The bitterness of it I now belch forth from my heart.—Shakespeare.

Belcher.—A large red neckerchief spotted with yellow and black, and first worn by Jem Belcher the famous pugilist, 1781-1811. “The Kiddy flashes his Belcher.” Tom Belcher’s colour was yellow, with white and black spots.

Bell’s Life in London.—And Sporting Chronicle, a rich Repository of Fashion, Wit, and Humour, and the interesting Incidents of Real Life:—Was founded March 3, 1822, by Mr. John Bell, one of the most spirited publishers of his time, and the printer and proprietor of “Bell’s Edition of Plays,”—“Bell’s Edition of the Poets,”—“Bell’s Weekly Messenger,” &c., &c. Mr. Vincent Dowling, was first installed Editor August, 1824. On Sunday, November 4, 1827, it was publicly announced that—“Pierce Egan’s Life in London and Sporting Guide” is this day incorporated with “Bell’s Life in London.” All communications for the Editor, therefore, are requested to be transmitted, in future, to the Office, No. 169, Strand.... Let it not be forgotten, that “Bell’s Life in London,” is the largest, and best, and the cheapest, Sporting Journal in the Kingdom. “Compare and Judge.” ☞ “The Price is but Sevenpence.”—“Mr. Vincent Dowling, the Editor, was well known in the Sporting World and in him the Fancy found a sincere friend. He is a most excellent companion; cheerful, witty, and satirical at all times, but, in the latter display of his talents, the feather appears more than the razor—he tickles his adversaries, rather than wounds their feelings”—Pierce Egan.—A service of plate value 100 gs. was presented to Mr. Vincent Dowling, at the Castle Tavern, Holborn, July 18, 1833.

Beef.—To cry Beef is to give the alarm.—“A mot in the regency below, bolted out into the hairy and cried beef on us; just as ve had sacked the swag; so Tim Snooks who vos vide awake in the rum pad in front; giv’d as the office to scarper! and ve cut like blazes! Squinting Bill piked through the glaze, and vos out of sight in less than no time, and I got over the balcony, and slides down the vater shoot, and makes good my hexit, but leaving all the tools and the swag behind in the old coveys snoozing-ken.”

Beer and Britannia.—What two ideas are more inseparable than Beer and Britannia? What event more awfully important to an English colony than the erection of its first brewhouse!:—

Beer! Boys, Beer! all over town and country,
Beer! Boys, Beer! with pewter pot in hand;
Beer! Boys, Beer! for all who don’t mind labour,
Beer! Boys, Beer! who a gallon’s going to stand.

Big ones.—Men of consequence: such as Tom Cribb,—The Duke of Wellington,—John Jackson,—The Lord Chancellor,—John Gully,—The Chancellor of the Exchequer,—Tom Spring,—The Master of the Rolls, &c.

Big Wigs.—Judges, &c.,:—“The wisdom’s in the wig.” If you doubt it, play the part of Paul Pry for half-an-hour in any of the Courts of Law, or ask the Vice-Chancellor. You’ll soon be convinced.

Bilk the Schoolmaster.—Not to stand your regulars, i.e., not to pay for being let into the secret.

Billing and Cooing.—Courting; the two sexes humbugging one another—faking the sweetner, kissing, &c.:—What billing again?—Shakespeare.

Bill of Sale.—A widow’s weeds.

Billy.—The cant term for a silk pocket handkerchief.

Billy Buzman.—A class of pickpockets who confine their attention exclusively to silk pocket handkerchiefs. In thieving as in other professions and arts of life in this highly civilized age, “Division of Labour,” as political economists term it, is particularly attended to in the London School of gonnofs, not only for the sake of convenience, but from the well-known principle that “Practice makes perfect.” Accordingly, it would be considered as untradesman-like for a Billy Buzman to go out of his own line of business, as for an ironmonger to sell treacle, or a silk mercer to deal in or sell neat’s foot oil.

Bird-cage.—Small country watch-houses, or gaols. Come, let’s away to prison; we two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage:—Shakespeare.

Birds of Prey.—Lawyers.—The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.—Jack Cade.

Bit.—Taken in, one half the world bite the other. Also money of any kind or quantity. Queer-bit, bad money. Rum-bit, good money. “He grabbed the Cull’s-bit.” He seized the man’s money.

Bit of Cavalry.—A horse.—An two men ride a horse, one must ride behind.

Bit of good Truth.—The plain facts.—Facts are stubborn things.

Bit of Muslin.—A sweetheart.—Love me little, love me long.

Biting one’s name in it.—Taking a good draught out of a pot of heavy wet.

Black Beetles.—The Lower orders—the rabble (Canaille).

Black Diamonds.—Coals. Black diamonds Lords, owners of coal mines. Black diamond merchant, a coal merchant. Black diamond polisher, a coalheaver.

Black Miller.—The—The brave and somewhat ill used Molineux. The Black pugilist who was twice beaten by Tom Cribb, 1810-11.

Black Sharks.—Attorneys and Lawyers.—Arcades ambo!

Black Strap.—Port wine. “What will you lay it is a lie!”

Blade.—A man: who may be a brother blade as a butcher, a knowing blade, if a sharp fellow, wide awake and cunning.

Blinker.—A one-eyed horse.

Bloods, Bucks, and Choice Spirits.—Tria juncta in uno—A riotous disorderly set of young men who imagine that their noise, bluster, warwhoop, and impertinence impress those who come in contact with them with the opinion that they are men of spirit and fashion. The nocturnal exploits of the true high-mettled, and fast-going Blood: consists of throwing a waiter out of a tavern window lumpus! pinking a sedan-chairman, or a jarvey, who is so uncivil as to demand his fare, milling and boxing-up the charlies, kicking-up rows at Ranelagh and Vauxhall, driving stage coaches, getting up prize fights, breaking shop windows with penny pieces thrown from a Hackney coach, bilking a turnpike-man, and at other times painting-out in a very opposite colour his “List of Tolls payable,” Funking a cobbler, smoking cigars at divans and club-houses, fleecing each other in the Hells around Jermyn Street, drinking champagne at Charley Wright’s in the Haymarket, claret and brandy at Offley’s, and “early pearl” and dogsnose at the Coal Hole, wearing large whiskers, and false noses and moustachios, exchanging blackguard baninage with women of the town in and about Covent Garden, the Haymarket, and Piccadilly—“Dem’ee that’s yer sort!—Keep it up—keep it up!”

Blown.—Exposed, informed against.

Blow a Cloud.—Smoke a pipe. Cock a Broseley.

Blue Blazes.—Spirituous liquors in general, Gin in particular.

Blue Ruin.—Gin, called blue from its tint, and ruin from its effects. In the words of Otway most gin drinkers are “in love and pleased with ruin!”

Blunt.—Cash, or money of any value, or in any quantity. Lots of blunt, plenty of money—“Thou dear delightful evil.”

Bob, or Bobstick.—A shilling.

Bobbish.—Smart, active, clever.

Bodkin.—William Bodkin, Esq., or as he was familiarly termed Billy Bodkin, was originally a painstaking Broker and Auctioneer at Islington, he was the first Hon. Sec. to the Mendicity Society, which office it was said he found more lucrative. So neglected knocking down, for the sake of taking-up, giving the vagrants their quietus “With a bare Bodkin.”—For further particulars about this sharp Bodkin see Billy Waters.

Bolt.—Throat, Sluice your bolt—Drink.

Bone-setter.—A hackney-coach, also a hard trotting horse.

Booked.—The time fixed when a thief is ripe for the gallows, or when any one is likely to die from some mortal disease. “He’s booked for a ride in a Government omnibus, i.e., prison van.” “You are booked for a ride to Gravesend.” Secured, bespoke, in for it, dished!

Booze.—Liquor, “To drink.” “Rum booze,” good drink.

Boozey.—Drunk. Man being reasonable must get drunk.—Byron.

Boozing-ken.—An alehouse, or tavern.

Bosh.—A fiddle. To fake a bosh, to play the fiddle; Boshmen, fiddlers, or musicians in general.

Bought.—I have bought that and no mistake, i.e., paid too much for it. Bought and sold: taken in and done for.—It would make a man as mad as a buck, to be so bought and sold.—Shakespeare.

Bouncing Chit.—A bottle, from the explosion in drawing the cork.

Boxed.—Locked up.—Cabin’d, cribb’d, and confined.

Boxing a Charley.—Upsetting a watchman in his box.

Box of Dominoes or Ivories.—The mouth, containing the teeth.

Box of Minutes.—A watch.—Watches you know, were made to go.

Brads.—Half-pence, also money in general.—Shell out the brads Jack.

Brass.—Money, also impudence,—“A man who carries plenty of brass in his face will never lack gold in his pocket.”

Bread Basket.—The stomach.

Breaking up of the Spell.—The breaking up of a party of long sitting: the nightly termination of performance at the theatres, which is regularly attended by pickpockets, who exercise their vocation about the doors and avenues leading thereto.

Broads-Cards, Swell Broad-Coves.—Elegantly dressed card-players; also possessing a good address with other requisites befitting them to keep company with gentlemen.

Broad Fencers.—The Cads and fellows who hawk Lists, or k’rect cards, at races,—Pierce Egan, in an account of—“The gallant and spirited Race at Knavesmire in Yorkshire, for 500 gs. and 1000 gs. bye—4 miles. Between the late Colonel Thornton’s Lady and Mr. Flint,” and reported by him in “Book of Sport,” thus graphically describes the Broad Fencer of the period:—“The Cads, and fellows with the Race Lists, were thus hawking their bills and cards over the race ground to obtain purchasers. Come my worthy sporting gentlemen from all parts of the kingdom—now’s your time to open your eyes and look about you, when you will see to-day what you never saw before in your life, and, perhaps, you may never see again, if you live as long as Old Methuselah. Come, I say, who’s for a list—the whole list, and nothing else but a true list—besides, you will have a correct and particlar account of the terrible, terrible, terrible high-bred female—the good-lady of Colonel Thornton; there is nothing like her in the universal world. Old Astley’s troupe are mere patches upon her managing a horse, she will this day ride a match like a lady, over the four mile course for 500 guineas, and 1000 guineas bye; and some hundreds of thousands are likewise depending upon this most extraordinary match between the “Jockey in Petticoats” against the well-known sporting character Mr. Flint, in his “doe skins and top boots;” and looked upon as one of the best gentlemen riders in the nation. You have also the names of the horses, and the colours of the riders, with every other particular that can enlighten your minds, and make you gentlemen sportsmen acquainted with this lively race. You have now the opportunity to lay out your money according to your inclination. The gentleman allows the lady to ride what weight she likes, there being a mutual understanding between them upon the subject; therefore, she will not, like commoners go “to scale” as she will not be handled by any body before she starts for the prize; indeed, the Female Jockey is not considered any weight at all. Her importance and self-possession are the only objects for consideration. What does spirit, fire, blood, and gaiety weigh, I should like to ask? I answer nothing,—my masters! Such high bred qualities are as light as air—brisk as the wind—and 2 to 1 towards winning. You have also at the same price, the plain and simple pedigree of the female Jockey. Her “sire” was a capital “good un;” her dam, a prime fleet “un,” an Eclipse in character; her brother, all that could be wished upon the turf, for getting over the ground like a sky rocket, her sister, a Nonpareil at all points, and above any price, but her owner, her out-and-out owner, the Colonel from his “upper crust” down to his “walker,” is a match for all England against any thing—for every thing alive—either on the turf or turnpike,—from a mouse to an elephant: and nothing else but winning belongs to his stable. And lastly, though not the least in the above Catalogue of Excellence,—every point of the Female Jockey is tip-top, her agility is captivating; and she mounts her prad like the most accomplished horseman in the world. Her movements defy expression; her nods to the females, as she rides over the Course, delightful! but her smiles to the applauding gentlemen, in answer to the winks, bows, and other marks of politeness towards her, as compliments for her daring exploits, are fascinating, elegant, and nothing else but winning. She is seated upon her high-bred animal with all the firmness of a Nimrod; she holds her reins with the most perfect ease and style; and Chifney, in the best of his days, never displayed a better knowledge of horsemanship than the Female Jockey, and she flourishes her whip with all the good taste of the leader of a band at a concert. In fact, she is a Nonesuch! a Paragon!! a PHENOMENON!!! Her prad too, Old Vingarillo, is also a picture of goodness, from his peepers down to his fetlocks! Therefore, my worthy sportsmen, do not lose this opportunity—be not too late—but purchase this great curiosity—this List of lists—nothing like it having occurred in Yorkshire, or, in any other part of the globe since Noah’s flood—either before or since the wet season of the year; and it is York Minster to a brass farden that nothing like it can occur again till we have a new generation of the human race? That’s a fact!!!”

Buckingham, Thomas.—Comedian and Comic-singer, died September 2, 1847, aged 52.

Buffers.—Dogs. Buff-napper, a dog stealer.

Broom.—To brush, to run away.

Browns.—Half-pence and pence—“Got any browns, Jem, for a drop o’ Max? No, Bill, not never a von left; s’elp me criky.”

Buffs—Buffaloes—and Buffaloism.—A society held at the Harp Tavern in Great Russell Street, opposite Drury Lane Theatre, and was first established in August, 1822, by an eccentric young man of the name of Joseph Lisle, an artist, in conjunction with Mr. W. Sinnett, a comedian, to perpetuate, according to their ideas upon the subject, of that hitherto neglected ballad of “We’ll chase the Buffalo!” The society is composed of numerous Performers, and other “comical wights” resident in the metropolis. The ceremony of making a Buffalo is very simple, yet extremely ludicrous, and productive of great laughter. At first the person intended to become a Buffalo, is seated on a chair in the middle of the room, with a bandage placed over his eyes. The initiated Buffaloes are waiting outside of the door: the orator being decorated with a wig, &c., for the occasion. On a given signal, they all enter the room, with what they term the Kangaroo Leap, and jump round the chair of the “Degraded wretch,”—as the victim is termed. This is succeeded by a solemn march, and the following chaunt; the Buffaloes carrying brooms, shovels, mops, and a large kettle by way of a kettledrum:—

Bloody-head and raw-bones!
Bloody-head and raw-bones!
Be not perplexed,
This is the text.
Bloody-head and raw-bones!

The CHARGE is then given to the “victim” by the Primo Buffo, accompanied by the most extravagant and ridiculous gestures:—

“DEGRADED WRETCH!—Miserable Ashantee!!—Unfortunate individual!!!—At least you were so, not a quarter of an hour since. You are now entitled to divers privileges: you may masticate, denticate, chump, grind, swallow, and devour, in all turnip fields, meadows, and pastures; and moreover, you have the especial privilege of grazing in Hyde Park;—Think of that my Buffalo! You may also drink at all the lakes, rivers, canals, and ponds; not forgetting the Fleet and lower ditches. You are entitled to partake of all public dinners,—upon your paying for the same—such are a few of the advantages you will enjoy! but you must promise to gore and toss all enemies to Buffaloism! You must likewise promise to patronise the Horns, at Kennington; and occasionally visit Horn-sey Wood, where you may do what you like best—rusticate, cogitate, or illustrate, and prove yourself an Horn-ament by respecting the natives of the island of Goree-he!”

The bandage is then removed from the eyes—and the chorus of “Chase the Buffalo,” is repeated. The victim is then led into the passage, and the signs, &c., are given to him, after which he is ushered into the room with the full chorus of:—

See! the conquering hero comes,
Sound the trumpet, beat the drums,
Sports prepare, the laurels bring,
Songs of triumph to him sing.

He is then called on for the accustomary fees for liquor, and a small compliment for the Buffalo in waiting: the expenses are in proportion to the means, or inclination of the newly-made member. The liquor is introduced by the chorus altered from the Pirates:—

“We Buffaloes lead a jolly, jolly life, Fal de, &c., &c.”

A blessing is then given by the Primo Buffo, reminding the new member that the greatest characters in the country have solicited to become Buffaloes, and the following is sung in solemn style.

Harponians list unto me,
And Kangaroos rejoice!
And Buffaloes lift up your horns,
Whilst I lift up my voice.

Oh! Joseph Lisle a painter is,
And a Buffalo besides:
So sit not in the scorner’s chair,
Nor Buffaloes deride.

Now Buffaloes join in a roar,
Be heard from pole to pole;
My solemn chaunt is at an end,
Because you’ve heard the whole!

Bull.—A crown. Half a bull, half a crown.

Bunch of Dog’s meat.—A squalling child in arms.

Bunch of Fives.—A slang term for the hand or fist.

Bunch of Onions.—A watch chain and seals.

Bunch of Turnips.—Itinerant fruit vendors, &c.

Bunter.—A low loose woman.—“Neither maid, wife, nor widow.”