part II

., p. 78. The advertisement of the committee, which appeared in the agony column of the Times, who wanted to know how I wished the money applied. 1881. W. Black, Beautiful Wretch, ch. xxiii. There were anonymous appeals to the runaways in agony columns. Agony Piler, subs. (theatrical).—An actor who performs blood-curdling parts in sensational plays. Aground, adv. (common).—Stuck fast; stopped; at a loss; ruined; like a boat or vessel aground. Ain’t, sometimes A’N’T, verb. phr. (vulgar).—A corruption for (1) ‘am not’; (2) ‘are not’; (3) ‘is not.’ This vulgarism appears to be of much older standing than set down in the New English Dictionary, where the earliest example is dated 1778. 1710. Swift, Journal to Stella, 24 Nov., Letter ix. I ain’t vexed at this puppy business of the bishops, although I was a little at first. 1800. Coleridge, Piccolomini, II., xiii. Ter. Where’s the hurry? Come, one other composing draught.... Goetz. Excuse me—ain’t able. Ter. A thimble-full! Goetz. Excuse me. 1835. Dickens, Sketches by Boz, p. 275. ‘You are a clever fellow, Tottle, ain’t you?’ Air and Exercise, subs. phr. (old).—To have had air and exercise, signified that one had undergone a whipping at the cart’s tail. About the beginning of the present century the same operation was termed shoving the tumbler (q.v.). Among thieves at the present time, air and exercise means penal servitude; in America it is only applied to a short term of imprisonment. Airing, subs. (racing).—When it is not intended that a horse shall win a race for which it is brought to the starting post, it is said to be out for an airing. 1889. Evening Standard, June 25 (Sir Chas. Russell’s speech in Durham-Chetwynd case).—What he (Sir C. Russell) meant was that Sir G. Chetwynd never did anything so gross and vulgar as that [tell the jockey to ‘pull’ horses], and that if horses were pulled, that was not the way in which in any class of turf society instructions were given. A wink was as good as a nod, and trainers and jockeys, from various trivial circumstances, very easily gathered whether a particular horse was only out for an airing, or whether it was on the job. Air Line, or Air Line Road (American).—To take the air line; to go direct, and by the shortest route; idiomatically, to avoid circumlocution. The origin of this expression is to be found in the straight lines of railway, without expensive detours and grades, which in the New World are rendered possible by the vast expanses of unbroken level. These lines of railway are called air line roads, or straight shoots (q.v.). De Vere remarks that since the number of such roads has increased in the more thickly settled parts of the Union, the advantages of direct lines between two great centres over others which meander from town to town have become very manifest, and for a few years a tendency to build such air lines has agitated Legislatures, from whom and from financial circles in the States and abroad help is asked. These lines not unfrequently run for long distances by the side of older lines. 1888. St. Louis Globe Democrat, Jan. 24. The obese style once admired is now disliked. Many old English authors had too much rhetoric for our age. Of one thing we are profoundly convicted, that we have no time to spare for superfluities. An author must take the air line or we will not travel. 1888. Florida Times Union Advertisement, Feb. 11. Ask for tickets viâ Augusta or Atlanta and the Piedmont air line. Air One’s Heels, verb. phr. (popular).—To loiter; to hang about. Air One’s Vocabulary, verb. phr. (old).—To talk for talking’s sake; to show off by one’s talk; ‘to flash the gab.’ One of the wits of the time of George IV., when asked what was going on in the House of Commons answered that Lord Castlereagh was airing his vocabulary. The term is now rarely heard, but the practice is with us always. Airy, subs. (vulgar).—A corruption of ‘area,’ e.g., ‘Down the airy steps.’ A-Jakes.—See Ajax. Ajax, subs. (old). (Pronounced with both ‘a’s’ long).—The name of this hero furnished many unsavoury puns to our ancestors, from its similarity in sound to the two English words, a jakes. In some of the passages the allusion is rather obscure, as in this: 1609. Ben Jonson, Epicœne, or The Silent Woman, iv., 5. A stool were better, sir, of Sir Ajax, his invention. It is plainer in Shakspeare: 1594. Love’s Labour Lost, v., 2. Your lion, that holds his poll-ax, sitting on a close stool, will be given to Ajax. The cause of all this vein of low wit was, perhaps, Sir John Harrington, who in 1596 published his celebrated tract called The Metamorphosis of Ajax, by which he meant the improvement of a jakes, or necessary, by forming it into what we now call a water-closet, of which Sir John was clearly the inventor. For this offence to her delicacy, Queen Elizabeth kept him for some time in disgrace. Used directly for a necessary house. 1611. Cotgrave, Eng. Treasury, p. 16. Which (like the glorious Ajax of Lincoln’s Inne, I saw in London) laps up naught but filth and excrements. 1720. Hosp. of Incurab. Fooles, p. 6. Adoring Sterculio for a god, no lesse unworthily then shamfully constituting him a patron and protector of Ajax and his commodities. To the above work of Sir J. Harrington, Ben Jonson seems to allude, as a masterpiece in its way, when, at the conclusion of a dirty poem, he says, 1574–1637. On the Famous Voyage, vol. VI., p. 290: And I could wish for their eterniz’d sakes, My muse had plough’d with his that sung A-jax. The rhyme here proves that the pronunciation of the time was suited to the English meaning. Even Camden condescends to play upon this word. Speaking of the French word pet, he says, 1605. Remains, p. 117. Inquire, if you understand it not, of Cloacina’s Chaplains, or such as are well read in Ajax.—See Jakes. Akerman’s Hotel, subs. (obsolete).—Newgate prison was once so called. The governor’s name was Akerman.—See Cage. Akeybo.—A slang phrase used in the following manner:—He beats akeybo, and akeybo beat the devil.—Hotten. A-la-Mort.—See Amort. Albany Beef, subs. phr. (American).—The popular name of the flesh of the sturgeon. This, in color and taste, has some resemblance to beef, especially when cut in steaks and grilled. Albany is a town on the Hudson River as high as which the fish in question is or was to be caught in large numbers, and as a matter of course, it consequently formed a not inconsiderable factor in the food supply of the inhabitants—hence the term Albany beef. Albertopolis, subs. (popular).—A nickname formerly given by Londoners to the Kensington Gore district, out of compliment to the late Prince Consort. The Albert Hall and the Exhibition buildings of 1862, with which Prince Albert was so closely identified, are situated within the radius; and the Albert Memorial is hard by. 1864. E. Yates, Broken to Harness, ch. xxxiii., p. 366 (1877). Mr. Cauthar tripped out of the house, and devoted the remainder of the evening to working out a composition for the nutriment of the hair, which, under the name of Cauthar’s Crinibus, has an enormous circulation over the infant heads of albertopolis. Albonized, ppl. adj. (pugilistic).—Whitened. [From L. albus, white.] Alderman, subs. (popular).—1. A half-crown. This term is explained by Brewer as containing an allusion to the fact that an alderman is a kind of half-king, whatever that may mean. 1857. Snowden, Mag. Assistant, 3 ed., p. 444. Two shillings and sixpence—alderman. 2. A long pipe; also called a churchwarden (q.v.); in both instances the name is probably an allusion to the penchant these personages had at one time for the long clay. 1859. Fairholt, Tobacco (1876), 173. Such long pipes were reverently termed alderman in the last age, and irreverently yards of clay in the present one. 3. A turkey; a variant is an alderman in chains; i.e., a roast turkey well stuffed and garnished with sausages. The latter are said to be emblematical of the gold chain worn by the civic dignitary—what then about the stuffing? 1782. George Parker, Humorous Sketches, p. 31. Nick often eat a roast fowl and sausage with me, which in cant is called an alderman, double slang’d. 4. (thieves’).—A jemmy (q.v.); sometimes alderman jemmy. A weightier tool is called a Lord Mayor, whereby it is clear that the criminal classes are not without some kind of respect for the city fathers. The tool is used for burglary purposes. 1883. Daily Telegraph, May 14, p. 3, col. 7. A complete set of safe-breaking tools had been used and left behind, including wedges, an alderman jemmy, a hammer weighing 14 lbs. 1888. Saturday Review, 15 Dec, p. 719. One side of slang was illustrated by the burglar Casey in a well-known case of robbery in the City some years ago, who explained in Court that the big jemmy with which iron shutters were prised open was called the ‘alderman,’ adding, ‘it would never do to be talking about crowbars in the street.’ 5. Blood and guts alderman, subs. phr. (popular).—A pompous man; one with a ‘corporation.’ The allusion is to the alleged or real over-eating and drinking of aldermen as a class. Alderman Lushington, subs. (Australian).—Intoxicating beverages. Alderman’s Pace.—A slow and stately gait, like that of a burly man as aldermen are generally represented. The French have an equivalent phrase, pas d’abbé. Aldgate. A draught on the pump at Aldgate, subs. phr. (commercial).—A bad bill of exchange. A play on the word ‘draught.’ Alecampane.—See Allacompain. Alecie, Alecy, subs. (old nonce words) [from ale + suffix cie or cy, as in ‘lunacy’].—The state of being under the influence of ale; drunkenness; also balmyness. 1594. J. Lyly, Mother Bombie, cc. 9. If he had arrested a mare instead of a horse, it had beene a slight oversight, but to arrest a man, that hath no likenesse of a horse, is flat lunasie, or alecie. Ale-Draper, subs. (old) [from ale + draper as in linen-draper].—A humorous title for an alehouse keeper; probably from the ancient custom of measuring ale by the yard. It long survived dialectically, but is now obsolete. Synonyms were rum-cull, and squirt-quester (q.v.). 1593. Henry Chettle, Kinde-Harts Dreame. Two milch maydens that had set up a shoppe of ale-drapery. 1747. In Parish Register of Scotter, Linc. [Buried], July 8th, Thomas Broughton, Farmer and Ale Draper. Ale-Knight, subs. phr. (old) [from ale + knight, used derisively].—A tippler; a boon companion. 1575. Eccl. Proc., Chester. [The Vicar of Whalley, Lanc., is charged with being a common dronker and ale knight.] 1654. Witt’s Recreations. Come all you brave wights, That are dubbed ale-knights Now set out youselves in fight: And let them that crack In the praises of sack, Know malt is of mickle might. 1863–64. Chambers’ Bk. of Days, ii., 597. This man was a regularly dubbed ale-knight, loved barley wine to the full. Ales, subs. (Stock Exchange).—The shares in the brewery business of S. Allsopp and Sons, Limited, are thus known. Ale Spinner, subs. phr. (old) [from ale + spinner, a manufacturer or producer].—A brewer or publican. Alexandra Limp, subs. (popular).—The name given to an erstwhile fit of semi-imbecility on the part of ‘Society.’ The Princess of Wales, through a slight infirmity, walks with a suspicion of lameness, and servile imitation of everything pertaining to royalty caused the sudden appearance (circa 1860–70) of a crowd of limping petticoated toadies. The craze passed away as suddenly as it came. Cf., Grecian bend. 1876. Chambers’ Journal, No. 629. Your own advocacy of the Grecian bend and the Alexandra limp—both positive and practical imitations of physical affliction. [h.] Alfred David, subs. (common).—An affidavit—obviously a humorous corruption in pronunciation; also affidavy; and, by an extended process of curtailment, davy. All are common colloquialisms among the uneducated classes. After-davy is likewise occasionally heard, generally in connection with a person in extremis. Algerine, subs. (theat.).—A member of a company who, when ‘the ghost’ cannot be induced to walk, i.e., when the exchequer is low, and salaries are not paid, ‘remonstrates’ with the manager. The term is also used to designate the hard-up borrower of petty sums. Alive and Kicking, adv. phr. (popular).—An intensive form of ‘alive’ in its most colloquial sense of being alert and full of action. In the days of Pierce Egan’s Tom and Jerry, alive partook far more of the nature of slang than now. Sometimes all alive and kicking is varied by all alivo; knowing; all fly. The allusion is to a child in the womb after quickening. 1889. Globe, Oct. 4, p. 1, col. 3. Next day there appeared a letter from a Mr. Basil Watts Phillips, who proclaimed himself as a son of the playwright, and stated, moreover, that his mother, the playwright’s widow, as well as another son, named Gordon, were—to use a popular phrase—‘alive and kicking.’ Miss Emma, therefore, could hardly be recognised, with fairness, as the ‘only living representative of the late Watts Phillips.’ Allacompain, subs. (rhyming slang).—Forms: alacompain, alicumpane, elecampain, etc. 1. In the so-called rhyming slang this is the equivalent of rain. 2. (common).—Candy supposed to be made from the root of inula helenium or bellwort; it contains, however, little else than colored sugar. All A-Float, subs. (rhyming slang).—A coat. All Alive, adv. and adj. (tailors’).—Ill-made garments, and ‘misfits,’ are said to be all alive. All Along Of (vulgarism).—On account of; by reason of, etc. All-a-Mort.—See Amort. All Around Sports, sub. (American).—Obviously a corruption of ‘all round sportsmen,’ i.e., men whose interest in sport is catholic, and all embracing. All at Sea, adv. phr. (popular).—In an uncertain, vague condition. Of nautical origin, and perhaps more colloquial than slang; equivalent to all abroad (q.v.). All Brandy, adv. phr. (common).—When it is desired to commend or speak well of anything it is said to be all brandy. The use of such a term suggests curious reflections upon the drinking habits of those who employ it. Synonyms. A1; the pure quill; about east; about right; at par; the cheese. All Dickey.—See Dickey. Alleviator, subs. (common).—A drink; refreshment. 1846. Mark Lemon, Golden Fetters. If any of you feel thirsty after this exciting interview, I shall be happy to stand an alleviator. Synonyms. Gargle; smile; Alderman Lushington; long sleeved ’un (Australian, when taken from a long glass); shout; etc.—See Gargle. Alley, Ally, Alay, subs. (schoolboys’ term).—A superior kind of marble. Supposed to be a corrupted and abbreviated form of ‘alabaster,’ of which these superior kind of marbles are sometimes made. Alley is the name given to the medium sizes, smaller ones being called mivvies (q.v.), and the largest bonces (q.v.). The word sometimes appears as alley tor, or alley taw. De Foe, in ‘Duncan Campbell,’ as early as 1720, speaks of a large bag of marbles and alleys, and at that time the term was considered vulgar. It is interesting to note that the supposed derivation of alley from alabaster is borne out by the fact, that among school-boys stone marbles are called stoneys (q.v.), and clay ones commoneys (q.v.). Additional weight is also given to the accuracy of this derivation, when it is remembered that what are known as ‘Dutch alleys’ (q.v.), are only stoneys enamelled or glazed different colours. In old Berlin slang, alley tors were known as Kalbacher. All-Fired, adj. All-Firedly, adv. (American).—Thought by most to be a Puritanical corruption of ‘hell-fired,’ and in that respect a profane euphemistic adjective. In this connection it carries with it the meaning of ‘immense,’ ‘excessive,’ or ‘inordinate’ in general; but, of course, the primary signification of this corruption is perfectly obvious. Some, however, think the word may be taken at its face value [all + fire + ed.], an intensitive of the merely rhetorical fire. Common now on both sides of the Atlantic. 1755. The World, No. 140. How arbitrary is language! and how does the custom of mankind join words, that reason has put asunder! Thus we often hear of hell-fire cold, of devilish handsome, and the like. 1835. Haliburton, Clockmaker, 1 S., ch. xxiv. ‘Look at that ’ere Dives,’ they say, ‘what an all-fired scrape he got into by his avarice with Lazarus.’ 1861. Hughes, Tom Brown at Oxford, ch. xl. ‘I knows I be so all-fired jealous; I can’t abear to hear o’ her talkin’, let alone writin’ to——’ 1883. James Payn, Thicker than Water, ch. xvii. ‘Well,’ he said ... ‘you’ve been an all-fired time you have in selling those jars.’ All Fly.—See Fly. All Fours. To go or be on all fours, verb. phr. (popular).—From the four legs of a quadruped, or the two legs and two arms of a child or man. Hence to go on all fours is to go evenly, the figure of speech presented being the reverse of limping like a lame dog. Thence follows the metaphorical use of the phrase in the sense of exact analogy and similarity of relation. It is thus synonymous with ‘as like as two peas’ (the French say, comme deux gouttes d’eau, as like as two drops of water); ‘a chip of the old block’; a ‘Chinese copy,’ etc. At the same time, a show of probability must be conceded to those philologists who refer the phrase to the masonic symbol of the square, emblematic of harmony and completeness. Possibly masons gave its use a fresh impetus. All Gammon! phr. (common).—All nonsense; rubbish!—See All my eye. All Gay, adv. (thieves’).—All serene; all right; the coast is clear. The French voleur says, c’est franco! All-Get-Out, phr. (American).—That beats all-get-out, is an old retort to any extravagant story or assertion. Barrère says, ‘oh, get out!’ appears to have suggested the phrase, which is, perhaps, not altogether obvious. All Hands to the Pump, verb. phr. (old).—An expression borrowed from seafaring life, signifying concentration of energy in any one direction. Now-a-days we say, ‘a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether’; this also is a sailor’s phrase. All Holiday at Peckham, proverbial phr. (popular).—No work to do; and, as a concomitant, nothing to eat. A play upon words.—See Peckish. 1811. Lexicon Balatronicum. All holiday at Peckham ... a saying signifying that it is all over with the business or person spoken of or alluded to. 1848. Forster, Oliver Goldsmith, bk. I., ch. vi., p. 55 (5ed.) ‘Oh, that is all a holiday at peckham,’ said an old friend very innocently one day, is a common proverbial phrase. It seems that Goldsmith in the early part of his London life passed some miserable months as usher in a school at Peckham, and the memory of this doleful period was ever bitter to him. Years afterwards, a friend in conversation happened to speak facetiously of it being ‘all holiday at Peckham,’ and was surprised to find that this innocent reference to a recognised proverbial phrase was regarded by Goldsmith as an unkind allusion to his past misery, and, therefore, a personal insult. All Hollow, adv. (popular).—To beat, or carry all hollow, i.e., utterly; completely. All Hot! subs. (common).—A hot potato. A cry used by peripatetic street vendors. All In, phr. (Stock Exchange).—When the market is depressed and a disposition to sell prevails, it is said to be all in. Conversely, all out signifies that the market is improving. All in a Pucker.—See Pucker. All in Fits, adv. phr. (tailors’).—Badly made clothes are said to be all in fits, or to have a paralytic stroke. Such garments are also said to fit where they touch, i.e., nowhere. Now common. All jaw. All jaw like a sheep’s head, adv. phr. (common).—Said of one who is a great talker; or, who has the gift of the gab. 1876. C. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 41. ‘Look at the man! hear him; why, he’s all jaw like a sheep’s head. He was drummed out of the regiment he was in for eating his comrades’ knapsacks.’ A synonym is all mouth.—See Jaw. All Lombard Street to a China Orange, phr. (old); sometimes all Lombard Street to ninepence.—One of many fanciful forms of betting once current among the sporting fraternity; others were ‘Chelsea College to a sentry box,’ ‘Pompey’s Pillar to a stick of sealing wax,’ etc. 1819. Thomas Moore, Tom Cribb’s Memorial to Congress, p. 38. A pause ensued—’till crie of ‘Gregson,’ Brought Bob, the poet, on his legs soon,— My eyes, how prettily Bob writes! Talk of your camels, hogs and crabs, And twenty more such Pidcock frights— Bob’s worth a hundred of these dabs, All Lombard Street to ninepence on it. All Moonshine, adverbial phr. (popular).—Moonshine is in old-fashioned and provincial English ‘an illusive shadow,’ ‘a mere pretence’ [Halliwell]. The expression it is all moonshine is now variously applied, whether as referring to empty professions, to vain boasts, to promises not trustworthy, to questionable statements, or to any kind of extravagant talk. There exist in several languages so many words of lunar connection, all implying variableness or inconstancy, that possibly this phrase also, it is all moonshine, may have been primarily employed to express some degree of fickleness, or caprice; in allusion to the inconstancy or changeableness of the moon, or rather moonlight. When anyone professes or promises great things, which we do not expect to see realized, we say it is all moonshine, for moonshine is very shifty; one week we have it, another we have it not; nay, it shifts from night to night. ‘Lunes’ in old English, are not only fits of insanity, but freaks. And the term ‘lunatic’ itself did not properly signify a person always insane, but one who was mad at intervals, dependent as was supposed on the phases of the moon. This distinction is still very accurately maintained in Spanish philology: ‘Lunatics, El loco, cuya demencia no est continua, sino por intervalos que proceden del estado en que se halla la Luna.’ Hence also in French, modern and old: ‘Il a des lunes,’ he is whimsical or fantastic. ‘Tenir de la lune,’ to be inconstant, mutable; ‘Avoir un quartier de la lune, en la teste,’ or ‘Il y a de la lune,’ he is changeable, giddy, capricious. In the ‘language of symbols’ the moon is the emblem of hypocrisy, as in the following device: ‘La lune avec ces mots, Mentiri didicit. (Elle trompe toujours.) Pour l’hypocrisie, dont la lune est le symbole.’ Menestriar, Philosophie des Images, vol. I., p. 266. Another emblem is the following: ‘La lune, Non vultus non color unus, Pour une personne qui n’est pas sincère.’ Ibid, I., p. 269. Moonshine, in conformity with these ideas, was probably employed originally in characterising the talk of persons too mutable to be relied on from one time to another.—Notes and Queries. 1714. Spectator, No. 597. Several of my correspondents have been pleased to send me an account how they have been employed in sleep, and what notable adventure they have been engaged in during that moonshine in the brain. 1874. Mrs. H. Wood, Johnny Ludlow, 1 S., No. xxii., p. 397. ‘They are all pig-headed together ... they are blinded by specious arguments that will turn out, I fear, to be all moonshine.’ All Mouth, adv. (common).—Applied to a loquacious talker. Cf., All jaw. All My Eye, adv. phr. (common).—Variations in form are: all my eye and Betty Martin—my elbow—Tommy—and my grandmother. All nonsense; rubbish. The suggested derivations of this significant retort to a tedious narration containing neither rhyme nor reason are as various as the forms in which the phrase appears. Not so clear, however, is the evidence in support of any of them, although Barrère unwittingly stumbles upon what is probably the true origin. Had he studied the subject of slang historically, he would have been able to adduce adequate proof for what he merely puts forth as a ‘more probable’ derivation than those of his predecessors. After stating that some have suggested the origin of the phrase in the Welsh, al mi hivy, it is very tedious or all nonsense, he says, ‘It seems far more probable that it is a contraction of the phrase ‘there is as much of it as there is in all my eye,’ the words being made more forcible by closing one of the organs of vision. To express dissent from any statement, or a refusal to comply with a request. French slang has the corresponding term mon œil! which is usually accompanied by a knowing wink and a significant gesture as an invitation to inspect the organ.’ From a comparative study of the dates and examples which follow, it seems a fair deduction to assume that the original form of the phrase was simply all my eye, and that the additional tags given above are later importations. 1653. Archbishop Bramhall, Answer to the Epistle of M. de la Milletière [Works, vol. I., pp. 68–9. ed. Ox. 1842.] Fifthly, suppose (all this notwithstanding) such a conference should hold, what reason have you to promise to yourself such success as to obtain so easy a victory? You have had conferences and conferences again at Poissy and other places, and gained by them just as much as you might put in your eye and see never the worse. 1682. Preface to Julian the Apostate (London, printed for Langley Curtis). What benefit a Popish successor can reap from lives and fortunes spent in defence of the Protestant religion he may put in his eye; and what the Protestant religion gets by lives and fortunes spent in the service of a Popish successor will be over the left shoulder. 1768. Goldsmith, Good-natured Man, Act iii. Bailiff. That’s all my eye. The king only can pardon. 1811. Poole, Hamlet Travestied, i, 1. As for black clothes,—that’s all my eye and Tommy. Hotten’s contention, that all my eye and Betty Martin was a vulgar phrase constructed from the commencement of a Roman Catholic prayer to St. Martin (the patron saint of drunkards), ‘Oh, mihi, beate Martine,’ which in common with many another fell into discredit and ridicule after the Reformation, is both fanciful and untrue. In the first place there is no prayer in the Breviary which answers to the description given; and in the second it has been shown that the essential part of the phrase is very much older than the Joe Millerism which first set the copy for every lexicographer of the ‘unwritten word,’ from Hotten down to Brewer and Barrère, the latter of whom, strangely enough, after pitching on the right track, stultifies himself by an admission that all my eye and Betty Martin seems to have been the original phrase. The earliest example of the ‘Betty Martin’ form, found after long search, occurs in Tom Crib’s Memorial to Congress, published in 1819, where it appears simply as all my eye, Betty, but that the phrase was known long previously is proved by the extract from Poole quoted above. Among English Synonyms of refusal or incredulity, are: Cock and bull story; a wild-goose chase; a mare’s nest; fiddle-de-dee; do you see any green in my eye? that’s a flam; over the left; go teach your grannie to suck eggs; Walker! you be blowed! You be hanged! Not for Joe! How’s your brother, Job? Don’t you wish you may get it? Yes, in a horn (American); That’s all round my hat. Fr. Des fadeurs (lit. insipidity); C’est des vannes? (lit. floodgates or sluices); des nèfles (lit. medlars); des navets! (turnips); de l’anis! (lit. aniseed); du flan! (lit. custard); tu t’en ferais mourir! (lit. you will die after it); mon œil! (my eye); flûte! Zut! (go to the deuce!); et ta sœur? (phrase of the ‘who’s your hatter’ stamp); des plis! (don’t you wish you may get it); la peau! (blow it all!); de la mousse! (expression of ironical refusal); du vent! (go to pot!); des emblèmes!; des fouilles!; on t’en fricasse! All Nations, subs. (old).—1. A mixture of the drainings of all kinds of spirits and malt liquors; it is of an extremely intoxicating character. Sometimes called alls, or all sorts. 2. A parti-colored dress or coat; a Joseph’s garment. Also one that is patched. All-Night-Man, subs. (old).—A body snatcher. Now obsolete. 1861. Ramsay, Remin, ser. ii., 133. The body lifters, or all-night-men, as they were wont to be called. All of a Heap.—See Heap. All of a Hough, adv. phr. (tailors’).—Said of an unskilled workman. Equivalent to clumsy; bungling; unworkmanlike. Hotten quotes this as a Suffolk phrase (hough being spelt hugh, and pronounced with a grunt). Synonymous with ‘all on one side’; falling with a thump. All of my Lone, adv. phr. (American).—A negro vulgarism for ‘alone.’ All on the Go (vulgarism).—See Go. All Out, adv. phr. (vulgar).—1. Entirely; completely; by far, as in ‘all out the best.’ This vulgarism must now be classed among depraved words; but as far as written English is concerned, it can be traced back to the year 1300. It seems to have fallen out of use about the middle of the seventeenth century. 1830. Carleton, Traits and Stories, vol. II., p. 102. ‘He’s now in his grave, and, thank God, it’s he that had the dacent funeral all out.’ 2. Another old English expression, now obsolete, is to drink all out, to empty a bumper; and hence,— 3. Used substantively, e.g., an all out being equivalent to what ’Arry would call now-a-days a big drunk. The connection between the ancient and modern usage is clear. 4. To be all out also signifies to be in error; quite wrong. 5. (turf).—A man is said to be all out when unsuccessful during the whole of a day’s racing. 6. (Stock Exchange).—See All in. 7. (athletic).—Exhausted; said of a man or crew who, having exerted him or themselves to the utmost, can do no more. 1886. Graphic, April 10, p. 392. Pitman the Cambridge stroke, after passing the ‘Queen’s Head,’ Mortlake, put on a grand spurt, to which his crew fairly responded, though pretty well all out. All-Overish, adj. (colloquial). An indefinite feeling which pervades the body at critical periods, when sickening for an illness, or at a moment of supreme excitement, as when about to ‘pop the question’ which, says Hotten, ‘is sometimes called feeling all over alike, and touching nowhere.’ Synonyms are ‘to feel all round one’s hat,’ and ‘chippy.’ 1851. H. Mayhew, London Lab. and Lon. Poor, vol. III., p. 52. ‘When the mob began to gather round, I felt all-overish.’ All-Overishness, subs. (colloquial).—The state of being all-overish.—See foregoing. 1854. Ainsworth, Flitch of Bacon, pt. II., ch. v. ‘I feel a sort of shivering and all-overishness.’ 1841. John Mills, Old English Gentleman, ch. xxiv., p. 186 (3 ed.). ‘Isn’t it natural for a body to feel a sort of a queer all-overishness on the eve of a wedding, I should like to know?’ All over Pattern, subs. phr. (common). Used in describing patterns that are intricate, or designs in which the pattern is not of a set character. 1881. F. E. Hulme. Suggestions in Floral Design. A term [all over pattern] used to denote a design in which the whole of a field is covered with ornament in contradistinction to such as have units only at intervals, leaving spaces of the ground between them. The ornament of the Moors as seen in the decorations of the Alhambra, and that of Eastern nations generally, is most commonly of this nature; the whole surface of the object is covered with decorative forms so as to present to the eye a mass of elaborate detail, the leading lines of which can often only be detected by careful scrutiny. When, as in some Persian surfaces, these lines are often quite lost, the result is unsatisfactory. All Over the Shop, adv. phr. (common).—1. A phrase applied to any ubiquitous person, thing or deed.—See Shop. 1883. G. R. Sims, Lifeboat, etc. (Awful Character). He kills little babies all over the shop, each day in a river one thrown is. 2. Disconcerted. 1887. E. E. Money, Little Dutch Maiden, II., xi., 225. ‘Oh, please don’t blush; it makes me feel all over the shop.’ Allow, subs. (Harrow School).—A boy’s weekly allowance. Allowances, subs. (tailors’).—The extra measure in cutting cloth for a garment to permit of turnings in for seams; also the trimmings, such as wadding, buttons, braid, etc. Rather technical than slang. All Round, adj. (popular).—1. Able in all departments; adaptable in every respect to the purpose in view. Whether applied to sport, business, or indeed any department of life or thought, within a given circle, it carries with it, mutatis mutandis, the same meaning. Cf. All around sports. 1881. James Payn, Grape from a Thorn, ch. xl. ‘He’s a bad one all round.’ 1883. Graphic, August 11, p. 138, col. 2. Foremost still as an ‘all-round’ cricketer among the gentlemen stands W. G. Grace. 2. Average; see quotation. 1869. Notes on N. W. Prov. India, p. 98. We find an all round rent of so much per acre charged on the cultivation. All-Rounder, subs. (popular). [From all round + er] he who or that which is all round (q.v.); as an all round man; particularly applied, however, to a shirt collar the same height all round the neck and meeting in front. Once fashionable, but little worn now. 1857. A. Trollope, Three Clerks, ch. xxii. But he had bestowed, perhaps, the greatest amount of personal attention on his collar.... Some people may think that an all-rounder is an all-rounder, and that if one is careful to get an all-rounder one has done all that is necessary. But so thought not Macassar Jones. 1860. All the Year Round, No. 42, 369. That particularly demonstrative type of the [collar] species known as the all rounder. [M.] 1865. Lord Strangford, Selection (1869), II., 163. Dressed in full uniform, with high stand-up collar; the modern all rounder not having got so far into Asia. [M.] 1875. Chambers’ Journal, No. 586. To present himself in an all rounder hat and coat of formal cut on Sunday. All Round my Hat, adv. phr. (popular).—1. To feel all round one’s hat is to feel queer; out of sorts; all overish. 2. That’s all round my hat is synonymous with gammon! Nonsense! See All my eye. A music hall song [1834] had this phrase as a refrain. 3. Spicy as all round my hat, i.e., sensational. 1882. Punch, vol. LXXXII, p. 177, col. 1. ’Arry on a jewry. Fact is, I have bin on a Jury. New line for yours truly, dear boy, and I ’oped it might be a rare barney, a thing as a chap could enjoy. I am nuts upon Criminal Cases, Perlice News, you know, and all that, And, thinks I, this will be ‘tuppence coloured,’ and spicy as all round my hat. Alls, subs.—1. See All nations. 1868. Brewer, Phrase and Fable, s.v. alls, tap-droppings. The refuse of all sorts of spirits drained from the glasses, or spilt in drawing. The mixture is sold in gin-houses at a cheap rate. 2. (artisans’).—See Bens. All’s Blue.—See Blue. All Serene! intj. (popular).—All right. All’s well! This phrase is thought to be of Spanish origin, and to be derived from the word serena a countersign used by sentinels in Cuba. The night watchmen in Spain likewise end their proclamation of the hour by ‘é sereno!’ It is also equivalent to O.K., and a few years since was the burden of one of the senseless street cries, which, every now and again, have a vogue in large cities. Most of these catches originate in music-hall songs. All serene, however, was vulgarly colloquial long before the period in question, as will be seen by the following example: 1857. A. Trollope, Three Clerks, ch. xlv. ‘You’re all serene, then, Mr. Snape,’ said Charley; ‘you’re in the right bon.’ All Smoke, Gammon and Pickles.—See Smoke. All Sorts, subs. (common).—Explained by quotation.—See All nations. 1859. Sala, Gaslight and Daylight, ch. vi. A counter perforated in elaborately-pricked patterns, like a convivial shroud, apparently for ornament, but really for the purpose of allowing the drainings, overflowings, and out-spillings of the gin-glasses to drop through, which, being collected with sundry washings, and a dash, perhaps, of fresh material, is, by the thrifty landlord, dispensed to his customers under the title Of all sorts. All Sorts of, adj. (American).—First rate; excellent. A phrase very common in the South and West, and used in many different ways. It carries with it the idea of smartness and chic, as, e.g., when applied to a woman, a horse, or a building. Allspice, subs. (popular).—A nickname for a grocer; the derivation is obvious. All’s Quiet on the Potomac, phr. (American).—A period of undisturbed rest, quiet enjoyment, or peaceful possession; a phrase dating from the Civil War, when its frequent repetition in the bulletins of the War Secretary made it familiar to the public, who quickly appropriated it in a metaphorical sense. It has since formed the refrain of many a song. 1862. The Picket Guard. All quiet along the Potomac, they say, Except now and then a stray picket Is shot on his beat as he walks to and fro, By a rifleman hid in a thicket. All T. H., adv. phr. (tailors cutters’).—Said in praise or approval; a tailor’s equivalent of a 1; all right; all there—of which last it is possibly an abbreviated form. All the Caboose, adv. phr.—See Caboose. All the Go, adv. phr. (common).—One of the innumerable superlatives of work-a-day English; quite up to the mark; in full demand; ‘no deception, gents!’—See Go. All There, adv. phr. (popular).—Up to the mark; first-rate; ready for any emergency; a phrase of general satisfaction and approval; also, in one’s element. 1877. Five Years’ Penal Servitude, ch. iii., p. 220. ‘He stayed in a place doing the grand and sucking the flats till the folks began to smoke him as not all there.’ 1880. Punch, Aug. 7, p. 59. All there! Clerk (who has called to see the gas-meter). ‘Is yours a wet, or a dry meter, madam?’ Young Wife (who does not like to show ignorance). ‘Well, it is rather damp, I’m afraid!’ 1883. James Payn, Thicker than Water, ch. xx. It was his excusable boast, though expressed in somewhat vulgar language, that when anything was wanted he was ‘all there.’ All the Shoot.—Equivalent to ‘the whole boiling’ (q.v.). All the Way Down, adv. phr. (popular).—Synonymous with complete adaptability to the end in view; sometimes varied by ‘up to the knocker,’ or ‘up to the nines.’ All to His Own Cheek.—See Cheek. All to Pieces, adverbial phr. (common).—1. [Cf. Go to pieces.] A superlative of all work. To go all to pieces is to collapse utterly; to be altogether ruined; to be in a state of utter collapse. 1667. Pepys, Diary, Aug. 29. I find by all hands that the Court is at this day all to pieces, every man of a faction of one sort or other. 1811. Jane Austen, Sense and S., ch. xxx. ‘Fifty thousand pounds! and by all accounts it won’t come before its wanted; for they say he is all to pieces. No wonder! dashing about with his curricle and hunters!’ 1882. Punch, LXXXII., 185, 2. ‘Ah Jerry, we might as well go back to the Shades as be among such a shady crowd.’ Young Bob Logic seemed rather nettled at this speech of the Corinthian’s, and said, ‘Well, don’t you know you can’t expect a fellow to look very bright till he’s had an S. and B., or two and a Kümmel? These pals will be all right after dinner.’ ‘Let us hope they will,’ said the Corinthian, ‘for they look all to pieces now.’ 2. When a woman is confined she is said to go all to pieces; variants being to explode; to bust up. 3. (rowing).—Collapsed; exhausted; said of a crew when rowing wildly. 1884. Echo, April 7, p. 3, col. 1. The Oxford men were now all to pieces! their boat was full of water. 4. (sporting).—In racing and athletic circles equivalent to want of form. All to Smash, adv. phr. (common).—Also ‘all to pieces,’ i.e., bankrupt; ruined; in a state of utter delapidation; or, complete discomfiture.—See Smash. 1861. Cuthbert Bede, Our New Rector, ch. x., p. 105. ‘There isn’t a fellow at school can match me, Miss Moore! I beat them all to smash!’ All Up, adv. phr. (common).—‘It’s all up’ with so-and-so, or with such and such a thing, or course of action; i.e., the endeavour is fruitless; utter ruin or collapse is the end of it all; there is nothing left for hope; sometimes also, death. This phrase, indicative of total failure, discomfiture, and destruction, does not appear to be of very ancient standing, and can only be traced back as far as Fielding (see quotation). The mock epitaph, which the late Mr. W. J. Conybeare inserted in his novel Perversion, fitly illustrates the popular usage of all up. It is supposed to be written in commemoration of a country squire cut off in the midst of festivities. ‘Quite well at ten, Had a few friends to sup with me; Taken ill at twelve, And at one it was all up with me.’ Also Up. Among English Synonyms may be mentioned:—To have missed stays (nautical); to have gone to pot; to have gone to smash; to have gone to the devil. 1752. Fielding, Amelia,