book XII

., ch. vi. ‘All is up and undone!’ cries Murphy. 1838. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, ch. lx. A-double l, all, everything; a cobbler’s weapon; u-p, up, adjective, not down; s-q-u-double e-r-s, Squeers, noun substantive, a educator of youth. Total, all up with Squeers. Allus, adv. (vulgar).—Always. All Wag Blue, subs. phr. (American).—A frolicing, rollicking time; a spree; a kick-up. Allybeg.—See Llybege. Almighty, adj. (common).—Mighty; great; exceedingly—a superlative of all work. For example, in the ‘dialect’ of which this word is a component part, an over-officious man is put down as ‘almighty fast’; or a horse with good points as an ‘almighty fine beast’; and so on throughout the whole range of superlative merit. It ranks with ‘awful,’ ‘eternal,’ ‘everlasting,’ ‘lovely,’ and a multitude of other words, orthodox enough when properly handled, but which become the purest slang when used, as is frequently the case, of things finite, and even of trifles. So employed, almighty is generally regarded as an Americanism, and is credited to our kinsmen across the sea, a view supported by De Quincey’s use of the term. If this be so, there is, in truth, little at which to wonder. The ‘wild,’ the boundless West is no unlikely nursery for big, high-sounding words; and though one may justly condemn such depravation of our mother-tongue, the fact remains. Thus, amongst the untutored backwoodsmen and rough pioneers of the West a week is an ‘eternal’ time; a good officer is an almighty general; and a spell of rain is spoken of as an ‘everlasting’ deluge. The foregoing examples by no means exhaust the potentialities of the language; as, e.g., when people talk of a man playing almighty ‘smash’ with his prospects, meaning that he is hopelessly ruining his chances of success: or driving a fellow-citizen into a state of almighty ‘shivers’ through ill-treatment; or of a thing lasting till almighty ‘crack,’ i.e., for an interminable period. 1824. De Quincey, Works (1871), XVI., 261. Such rubbish, such almighty nonsense (to speak transatlantice) no eye has ever beheld. 1833. Marryat, Peter Simple (1863), 328. An almighty pretty French privateer lying in St. Pierre’s. 1888. New York Mercury, July 21. ‘This is a rum world,’ said the driver, with a chuckle, as he drove up the street. ‘And of all places in it New York is the rummest. And hack-drivin’ is the rummest business, leadin’ one into the rummest secrets. Another passenger to the “Rookery.” I wonder whether the other boys gits as many customers to that place as Luke Hyatt? If they do it must be almighty full sometimes.’ In another place De Quincey speaks of a man who cannot live and cannot die as being ‘in an almighty fix,’ and the expression is otherwise frequently used by him. Captain Marryat likewise constantly employs it; in fact, the phrase was well ‘acclimatised’ on this side of the Atlantic long prior to the publication of My Novel [1853], and Prof. Barrère, in attributing its popularisation ‘in a certain measure’ to Lord Lytton, failed to render due credit, if any, either to De Quincey or Marryat. Almighty Dollar, subs. (American).—The power of money; Mammon regarded as an embodiment of the worship of, and the quest for gold. This phrase is, in reality, an old friend with a new face, for Ben Jonson used the term in its modern sense when speaking of the power of money. Its modern application to dollars is traceable to Washington Irving, who made use of it in a charming little sketch, entitled A Creole Village. 1574–1637. Ben Jonson, Epistle to Elizabeth, Countess of Rutland. Whilst that for which all virtue now is sold, And almost every vice, almightie gold. 1839. Washington Irving, Wolfert’s Roost: A Creole Village, p. 40. The almighty dollar, that great object of universal devotion throughout our land, seems to have no genuine devotee in these peculiar villages. 1876. Besant and Rice, Golden Butterfly, ch. xxii. ‘Genius, gentlemen, is apt to be careless of the main chance. It don’t care for the almighty dollar; it lets fellows like me heap up the stamps.’ 1886. G. Sutherland, Australia, p. 102. The travelling Yankee, with an overwearing confidence in the almighty dollar. Aloft. To go aloft, verb. phr. (common).—To die; the figure of speech presented here is nautical in origin. 1790. C. Dibdin, Sea Songs: Tom Bowling. Here a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, The darling of our crew; No more he’ll hear the tempest howling, For death has broached him to. His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft; Faithful below, Tom did his duty, And now he’s gone aloft. Few expressions synonymous with the act of dying equal this in force or pathos; and it is rarely, moreover, that slang climbs on the wings of hope into a purer atmosphere than that of the vices and follies of men with which it is mainly concerned. By no means few in number, nor wanting in sententiousness and dramatic meaning are the phrases employed in the vulgar tongue to signify the greatest of all human experiences. English Synonyms. To kick the bucket; to hop the twig; to go to Davy Jones’ locker (nautical); to be put to bed with a shovel; to take an earth bath; to croak; to take a ground sweat; to go under (American: the visible disposal of the body furnishing a simile for the process of death); to go up (compare with foregoing: when the victim of lynch law is enquired after the questioner is told that he has ‘gone up,’ i.e., been hanged); to lose the number of one’s mess (a sailor’s phrase); to snuff it (from snuffing a candle); to lay down one’s knife and fork; to stick one’s spoon in the wall; to give in; to give up; to peg out; to slip one’s cable (this, like ‘to go to Davy Jones’ locker,’ is of nautical origin); to pass in one’s checks (a euphemism drawn from the game of poker, the simile being that of settling one’s earthly accounts and the paying in to the banker of the dues at the end of the game); Kickeraboo (West Indian: a corruption of ‘to kick the bucket’). French. Passer l’arme à gauche (popular: ‘to lay down one’s arms’); casser sa pipe (lit. ‘to break one’s pipe’); dévisser or décoller son billard (lit. ‘to break one’s cue’); graisser ses bottes (lit. ‘to grease one’s boots’); avaler sa langue (lit. ‘to swallow one’s tongue’); avaler sa gaffe (‘to lower one’s boat-hook’); avaler sa cuiller (lit. ‘to lay down one’s spoon’); avaler ses baguettes (military: lit. ‘to lay aside one’s drum-sticks’); n’avoir plus mal aux dents (lit. ‘to have toothache no more.’ In Fr. Argot mal de dents is also synonymous with love); poser sa chique (popular: lit. ‘to lay down one’s finish, elegance, dash, spirit’—in short all that is distinctive in a man); claquer (familiar: lit. ‘to chatter with cold’ or ‘fear’); saluer le public (theat.: lit. ‘to make one’s bow’—to make one’s last appearance on this world’s stage, and one’s first in that land where ‘the dead are many, and the living few’); recevoir son décompte (military: lit. ‘to receive deferred pay’; décompte is also military slang for a ‘mortal wound’); cracher ses embouchures (an expression of musical origin: the figure is obviously that of losing the power to perform on wind instruments); déteindre (popular: lit. ‘to wash off the colour’ or ‘dye.’ Is this a play upon words, or an allusion to death as the great revealer of man as he is?); donner son dernier bon à tirer (familiar: equivalent to the American, ‘to pass in one’s checks.’ French printers understand by this phrase ‘to send the last proofs to press’); lâcher la perche (popular: lit. ‘to slip off one’s perch’); éteindre son gaz (popular: ‘to turn off the gas.’ Cf., ‘to snuff it’); épointer son foret (popular: lit. ‘to break off the point of the drill,’ as in boring); être exproprié (popular: lit. ‘to be dispossessed’; exproprier is a judicial term signifying ‘to take possession of the landed property of a debtor’); péter son lof (sailors’); fumer ses terres; fermer son parapluie (popular: ‘to close one’s umbrella’); perdre son bâton (popular: ‘to lose one’s walking stick’); descendre la garde (popular: ‘to come off guard’); défiler la parade (military: ‘to file off parade’; equivalent to the English ‘to lose the number of one’s mess’); tourner de l’œil (popular: is there not here an allusion to the phenomenon attendant on genuine sleep; feigned sleep can always be detected by turning up the eyelids of the sleeper, if sleep be genuine only the ‘whites’ of the eyes will be discoverable); perdre le goût du pain (popular: ‘to lose one’s taste for bread’); lâcher la rampe (theatrical: ‘to lose sight of the footlights’); faire ses petits paquets (popular: ‘to pack up one’s [small] traps’); casser son crachoir (popular: lit. ‘to break one’s spittoon’ or mouth); remercier son boulanger (thieves’: lit. ‘to thank the baker.’ It must be explained that boulanger baker is a French nickname for the devil); canner; dévider à l’estorgue (thieves’); baiser la camarde (popular: ‘to salute,’ or ‘kiss Death’; camarde is a popular euphemism for the ‘Messenger of Life’); camarder (popular: see previous example); fuir (thieves’: lit. ‘to fly’ or ‘escape’—from justice or capture); casser son câble (popular: ‘to slip the cable’—evidently a simile drawn from the sea); casser son fouet (popular: ‘to break’ or ‘lay aside one’s whip’); faire sa crevaison (popular: crever, ‘to kill’ or ‘die’ is usually only employed in speaking of animals); déralinguer (sailors’: properly ‘to detach from the bolt rope’); virer de bord (sailors’: lit. ‘to tack about’); déchirer son faux-col (popular: verbatim, ‘to burst open one’s collar’—the allusion is obvious); se dégeler (in good French, ‘to thaw’); couper sa mèche (coachman’s: ‘to throw down the whip’); piquer sa plaque (sailors’); mettre la table pour les asticots (popular: properly ‘to lay the table [become food] for worms’); aller manger les pissenlits par la racine (popular: ‘to go and feed off dandelion roots’—observe, by the way, that pissenlit is an exact equivalent for one of the English field names of the dandelion, viz., ‘piddle-the-bed’); laisser fuir son tonneau (familiar: lit. ‘to let fly’ or ‘kick away the cask.’ Cf., ‘to kick the bucket’); calancher (vagrants’); laisser ses bottes quelque part (familiar: lit. ‘to leave one’s boots somewhere’); déchirer son habit (popular: properly ‘to rend’ or ‘cast aside one’s coat’); déchirer son tablier (popular: in literary French this means, ‘to throw aside or destroy one’s apron’); souffler sa veilleuse (popular: meaning lit. ‘to blow out one’s nightlamp’ or ‘floating wick.’ Compare with ‘to snuff it’ or ‘to put out one’s light’ in English slang); pousser le boum de cygne (popular); avoir son coke (familiar); prendre sa secousse (popular: i.e., ‘to take one’s blow’ or ‘shock’); rendre sa buche (tailors’: the allusion is an obvious one); rendre sa canne au ministre (military: lit. ‘to resign one’s commission to the Minister [of War]’); rendre sa clef (gypsy: lit. ‘to give up the key’); rendre son livret (popular: lit. ‘to throw up one’s cards’). German Synonyms. See Hop the twig. Italian Fourbesque. Sbasire (lit. ‘to faint away’); sbasire su le funi (lit. ‘to faint away on the rope’). Alone, adv. (old).—In the flash vocabulary of the time of Pierce Egan’s Tom and Jerry [circa 1800–1825], only an experienced man of the world could be allowed to go alone. Such a one was said to be fly; up to snuff (q.v.), etc. Along Of, adv. (vulgar).—A dialectical form for on account of; owing to; pertaining, or belonging to. Formerly along on, and it so appeared as early as A.D. 880: along of was used by Chaucer, but it is now mainly confined to the illiterate or vulgar. 1369. Chaucer, Troylus ii., 1001. On me is not along thin evil fare. 1581. W. Stafford, Exam. of Complaints, p. 16 (New Shaks. Soc.: Ed.). Complaining of general poverty, he says: ‘Whereof it is longe, I cannot well tell.’ 1601. Holland, Pliny, p. 25, quoted in Morris’ Elem. Hist. Eng. Gram., p. 198. And that is long of contrarie causes. 1858. Dickens, Xmas. Stories (going into Society), p. 65 (II. ed.). Would he object to say why he left it? Not at all; why should he? He left it along of a dwarf. 1881. W. Black, Beautiful Wretch, ch. xviii. ‘Mayhap the concert didn’t come off, along of the snow.’ Alsatia, or Alsatia the Higher, subs. (old slang).—1. Whitefriars, once a place privileged from arrests for debt, as was also Alsatia the lower, or the Mint in Southwark. Both were suppressed, in 1697, on account of the notorious abuses committed there. A charter of liberties and privileges had been granted, in 1608, by King James I. to the inhabitants of this district, and it speedily became the haunt of insolvent debtors, cheats, and gamesters, who conferred upon it the jocular cant name of Alsatia, a Latinised form of Alsace, a province which had long enjoyed the reputation of a ‘debateable land.’ 1688. Shadwell, Sq. of Alsatia I., in wks. (1720), IV., 25. Who are these? Some inhabitants of White-fryers; some bullies of Alsatia. 1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvi. Whitefriars, adjacent to the Temple, then well known by the cant name of Alsatia. 2. Hence any rendezvous or asylum for loose characters and criminals, where immunity from arrest is tolerably certain; a haunt of thieves, and the criminal classes; a low quarter. 1787. Grose, Prov. Glossary, etc. (1811), p. 82. A ’squire of Alsatia. A spendthrift or sharper, inhabiting places formerly privileged from arrests. 1861. Miss Braddon, Trail of the Serpent, bk. II., ch. i. So Blind Peter was the Alsatia of Slopperton, a refuge for crime and destitution. 1876. Lord Justice James, in ex parte Saffery re Cooke, Law Times, 35, p. 718. The Stock Exchange is not an Alsatia; the Queen’s laws are paramount there, and the Queen’s writ runs even into the sacred precincts of Capel-Court. Alsatian, subs. (old).—A rogue, or debauchee, such as haunted Alsatia or Whitefriars. 1691. Luttrell, Brief Rel. (1857), II., 259. The benchers of the Inner Temple having given orders for bricking up their little gate leading into White-fryers ... the Alsatians came and pulled it down. c. 1700. Gentleman Instructed, p. 491 [10 ed., 1732]. He spurr’d to London, and left a thousand curses behind him. Here he struck up with sharpers, scourers, and Alsatians. 1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvii. ‘You shall sink a nobleman in the Temple Gardens, and rise an Alsatian at Whitefriars.’ Adj.—Pertaining to Alsatia; roguish; debauched. 1688. Shadwell, Sq. of Alsatia I. in wks. (1720), IV., 27. He came out of White Fryers: he’s some Alsatian bully. 1822. Scott, Fortunes of Nigel, ch. xvii. An extravagantly long rapier and poinard marked the true Alsatian bully. 1882. Besant, All Sorts and Conditions of Men, ch. vii. The road has come to be regarded with admiration as one of those Alsatian retreats, growing every day rarer, which are beyond and above the law. Alsatia Phrase, subs. (old).—A slang or cant term, such as was used by Alsatians; or, now-a-days, by thieves and vagrants. 1704. Swift, Tale of a Tub. Apology for author. The second instance to shew the author’s wit is not his own, is Peter’s banter (as he calls it in his Alsatia phrase) upon transubstantiation. Synonymous terms were Pedler’s French, St. Giles’ Greek, etc. Altamel, Altemal, subs., adj., adv., and intj. (American thieves’).— Adv.—All together, as ‘Let’s anchor altemal,’ i.e., ‘Let us come to a stop altogether.’ Subs.—The sum total of a bill or story. Intj.—An injunction to ‘cut it short.’ Altemal is said to be derived from the Dutch altemal, but Murray has it as ‘altumal’ with a different derivation. [From L. altum, the deep, i.e., the sea + al.] Grose leans to the former and quotes Dutch reckoning as synonymous; from a verbal account without particulars, such as was given in brothels and sponging houses—accounts which allowed of no sort of verification. Cf., Flemish account and remarks under Dutch. 1711. Medleys, 29 Jan. (1712), 186. His altumal cant, a mark of his poor Traffick and Tar-Education. 1758. Chambers, Cycl. Supp. Altumal, a term used to denote the mercantile style, or dialect. In this sense, we meet with altumal cant, to denote the language of petty traders and tars. Altering the Jeff’s Click.—See Jeff’s click. Altham, subs. (old cant).—A wife; mistress.—See quotation. 1560. John Awdeley, Fraternitye of Vacabondes (1869. English Dialect Society’s Reprint), p. 4. A curtall is much like to the Vpright man, but hys authority is not fully so great. He vseth commonly to go with a short cloke, like to grey Friers, and his woman with him in like liuery, which he calleth his altham if she be hys. Altitudes. In his altitudes, phr. (old).—In an elevated mood, chiefly from liquor; putting on airs and graces; using lofty phrases; in a state of excitement; and, in a special slang sense, drunk. The phrase has been incorrectly given as ‘out of his altitudes.’ The first trace of it is to be found in Beaumont and Fletcher’s Laws of Candy, II. [1616]. 1630. Jonson, New Inn, I. I have talked somewhat above my share, at large, and been in the altitudes, the extravagants. 1668. Dryden, An Evening’s Love, Act iii. If we men could but learn to value ourselves, we should soon take down our mistresses from all their altitudes, and make them dance after our pipes. 1705. Vanbrugh, Confederacy, Act v. Clar. ‘Who makes thee cry out thus, poor Brass?’ Brass. ‘Why, your husband, madam; he’s in his altitudes here.’ 1785. Francis Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. The man is in his altitudes, i.e., he is drunk. Altocad, subs. (Win. Coll.).—A somewhat venerable paid member of the choir who takes alto. Alybbeg.—See Lybbege. Alycompaine.—See Allacompain. Ambassador, subs. (nautical).—A sailor’s practical joke upon ‘green’ hands, similar to the festivities formerly universally observed when ‘crossing the line.’ These tricks have been common to sailors of every nation. Ambassador was thus managed:—A large tub was filled with water, two stools being placed on either side of it; over the whole was thrown a tarpaulin or old sail, kept tight by two persons, who represented the king and queen of a foreign country, and who were seated on the stools. To the victim was allotted the part of ambassador, who, after repeating a ridiculous speech dictated to him, was led in great state up to the throne, and seated between the king and queen. They rising suddenly, as soon as the unsuspecting victim was seated, caused him to fall backward into the tub of water. Ambassador of Commerce, subs. (familiar).—A commercial traveller; a bagman (q.v.). Ambia, subs. (American).—A euphemism for the juice of tobacco, as expectorated after chewing. Most frequently heard in the Southern and Western States. Apparently a corruption of ‘amber’ (indeed it is commonly spelt and pronounced ambeer)—presumably from a similarity in colour between expectorated tobacco saliva and the mineralised resinous product. Ambidexter, also in 17th century, Ambodexter, subs. and adj. (old slang).—[From ambo, both + dexter, the right hand, i.e., the faculty of using both hands as right hands, or equally well.] Applied first in a slang sense to a lawyer taking fees or bribes from both plaintiff and defendant, ambidexter gradually became identified with double-dealing of all kinds. 1532. Use of Dice Play (1850), 17. Any affinity with our men of law? Never with those that be honest. Marry! with such as be ambidexters, and used to play in both the hands. [M.] 1555. Ridley, Works, 27. They may be called neutrals, ambidexters, or rather such as can shift on both sides. [M.] 1691. Blount, Law Dictionary. Ambidexter.... That Juror or Embraceor who takes Money on both sides, for giving his Verdict. 1703. De Foe, Ref. Manners, 93. Those ambodexters in Religion, who Can any thing dispute, yet any thing can do. 1864. Sir F. Palgrave, Norman and Eng. III., 278. An ambidexter, owing fealty to both Counts, and not faithful to either. Ambush, subs. (American thieves’).—Fraudulent weights and measures. A punning allusion to the accepted meaning of the word—to lie in wait (lying weight). In juxtaposition to this may be placed the Fourbesque (Italian thieves’ argot); giusta, a pair of scales, a balance, which in Italian literally means ‘correct.’ Cf., French thieves’ argot, juste (an abbreviation of justice), for the assizes; also the Spanish Germania justia, in a similar sense, the last-named being a shortened form of the Spanish justicia. Amen Curler, subs. (old slang).—The name formerly given to a parish clerk. In the army the chaplain’s clerk is called an amen wallah (q.v.). Amener, subs. (old).—A nickname given to one who agrees to everything said or done. [From that sense of amen = to ratify solemnly + er.] Amen-Snorter, subs. (Australian).—A parson; from which it will be observed that the fifth continent is evolving words and phrases as peculiar to itself as America has already done. For synonyms, see Devil dodger. 1888. Bulletin, Nov. 24. In Maori-land it is impossible to swing any kind of cat without smiting some variety of amen-snorter. Still the saints are not happy. They have just held at Wellington a ‘United Ker-ristian Conference’ to ruminate on the sinfulness of things and the scarcity of the unsanctified threepenny. A Rev. vessel, one Potter, opined that the meagre quantity and inferior quality of family devotion accounted for the depleted condition of the ‘treasury of the Loard,’ and suggested that steps should be taken ‘to find out what families omit this important duty.’ Since which all the dead-beats and suspected hen-snatchers plead when before the Binch that they were ‘only mouching round to find out whether the family neglected its religious dooties, yer washup.’ Amen Wallah, subs. (military).—A chaplain’s clerk; the allusion is sufficiently obvious. ‘Wallah’ is Hindustani for ‘man’ or person. Cf., the old English slang, amen curler (q.v.). Amerace, adv. (American thieves’).—Jargon signifying near at hand; within call. American Shoulders, subs. (tailors’).—A particular ‘cut,’ in which the shoulders of a coat are so shaped as to give the wearer a broad and burly appearance. This is usually done where a man’s shoulders are of the champagne (q.v.) order, i.e., like the neck of a wine bottle, with nothing upon which the garment in question can be hung. American Tweezers, subs. (thieves’).—An ingenious instrument of American invention, by means of which it is possible to turn a key in a door and unlock it from the outside. Ames Ace, Ambs-Ace, or Ambes-Ace. Within ames ace, subs. phr. (old).—1. Nearly; very near; ambs-ace was the double ace, the lowest throw at dice. Hence also 2. Bad luck; misfortune. The expression, according to Murray, dates back to A.D. 1297. Aminidab, subs. (old).—A jeering name for a Quaker.—Grose. Ammunition, subs. (common).—Paper for use at the cabinet d’aisance. Also called curl papers (q.v.). Ammunition Leg, subs. (military).—A wooden leg. From the attributive use of ‘ammunition’ as applied to stores supplied to soldiers for equipment or rations. To show the length to which this application of the word has been carried, it may be noted that Robertson, in 1693, speaks of ‘an ammunition whore.’—scortum castrense. Amort, adv. and pred. adj. (old).—Usually all amort, an antithetical phrase to all alive (q.v.), and meaning half dead; in a state of stupor; without spirit; sometimes used as a synonym of balmy, cracked, dotty, all of which see. A-la-mort, from the French, is regarded as the original form, though it is doubtful which took precedence in literary English. At one time both forms were quite naturalised; they are now of interest as affording an instance of words, gradually lapsing into slang or vulgar usage, and then coming to be regarded as Anglo-French phrases. American thieves still retain them, to signify struck dumb, or confounded; in these senses they are given by Grose in his Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue [1787], which would seem to show they had already commenced their downward career. Ampersand, subs. (familiar).—The breech; or posteriors. [From Eng. and + Latin per se, by itself, + Eng. and; literally, ‘and by itself and’ used to distinguish the character ‘&,’ which in old nursery books came at the end of the alphabet. Hence, employed to signify the hinder parts.] The word in its slang sense is quite a recent introduction, said to be of American origin. For synonyms, see Blind cheeks. Amputate. To amputate one’s mahogany or timber (familiar).—To be off; to begone—the idea being that of quick or violent motion, often, though not always, the result of moral or physical force. [Probably from that sense of amputate equivalent to ‘cut off’ or ‘away.’ Cf., ‘cut,’ a slang synonym.] A welcher is called a timber-merchant, because he removes himself, or ‘cuts his stick’ with celerity as occasion requires. Both the English and French have many synonymous words and phrases to express the same idea. Among the more popular may be mentioned:— English Synonyms. To skedaddle (an American term); to cut one’s lucky; to sling, or take one’s hook; to mizzle; to absquatulate; to pad the hoof; to give leg bail; to bolt; to cut and run; to chivey; to walk the trotters; to slip one’s cable; to step it; to leg it; to tip the double; to make, or take tracks; to hook it; to make beef (thieves’ term); to slope; to cut the cable and run before the wind (obviously a sailor’s phrase); to slip it; to abskize; to paddle; to guy (used by thieves); to evaporate; to vamoose (American, from the Spanish imperative vamos, let us go); to speele (used by thieves); to skip; to tip one’s rags a gallop; to walk one’s chalks; to pike; to hop the twig; to turn it up; to cap one’s lucky (a phrase mainly confined to American thieves); to crush; to cut dirt; to bunk; to pike it; to stir one’s stumps. French. Faire or jouer la fille de l’air (lit. ‘to go like the wind,’ fille de l’air, daughter of air, being a poetical embodiment); faire le lézard (a thief’s term, and meaning properly ‘to imitate a lizard,’ an allusion to swiftness of motion); faire le jat-jat; faire la paire (lit. ‘to go double,’ Cf., ‘to tip the double’); faire gille (a very old French phrase; it means also to become bankrupt. The connection between bankruptcy and decamping is obvious); se déguiser en cerf (popular: lit. ‘to play the stag’); s’évanouir (popular: lit. ‘to vanish’ or ‘fade away’); se cramper or tirer sa crampe (cramper is a popular term for rapid flight, and contains an allusion to the cramp or nervous contraction sometimes caused by violent motion. Old French had the verb crampir in the sense of ‘to bend’ or ‘double up.’ Tirer sa crampe is lit. ‘to get cramped’); se lâcher du ballon (popular: ‘to let loose the balloon,’ an allusion to the rapidity with which a balloon shoots up into the air when set free); se la couler (exactly equivalent to the English slang ‘to slip it’); se donner de l’air (popular: Cf., faire la fille de l’air); se pousser du zeph (popular: properly ‘to push forward with the wind.’ Zeph is a contraction of zephir); se sylphider (popular: from sylphide, a sylph; a reference to what in English racing terminology would be termed the ‘light-weight’ character of such creatures enabling them to get over the ground quickly); se faire la débinette; jouer des fourchettes (popular: ‘to put one’s forks into play’); fourchettes (in French argot = legs or ‘pins’); se la donner (Michel says la here refers to ‘la clef des champs,’ an expression synonymous with ‘liberty’ or ‘freedom’); se la briser (popular); ramasser un bidon (thieves’); se la casser (popular); se la tirer; tirer ses granches; valser (lit. to dance); se tirer les pincettes (popular: lit. ‘to pull along’ or to extricate ‘one’s tongs’ or ‘nippers.’ Cf., English ‘nip along’); se tirer les baladoires; se tirer les pattes (lit. ‘to move one’s paws’); se tirer les trimoires (thieves’: trimoires is a cant term for legs, and trimer signifies painful progression, or doing most of a journey on foot); se tirer les flûtes (popular: les flûtes = ‘shanks’ or ‘pegs’); jouer des guibes (guibe is a popular term for the leg, chiefly employed in burlesque); jouer des quilles (this expression is very old. Quilles properly signifies ‘crutches,’ and is popularly employed for the legs); se carapater (lit. ‘to run on one’s paws.’ Cf., ‘to take to one’s heels’); se barrer (lit. ‘to dash over’); baudrouiller (thieves’: this has the signification of ‘to whip up’); se cavaler (thieves’: cavaler was once synonymous with chevaucher; therefore, se cavaler signifies in reality, ‘to go on horseback on oneself,’ in which connection it may be compared with ‘shanks’ mare,’ the ‘marrow-bone stage’ [the Marylebone stage], or the German Schuhster’s Rappen, the shoemaker’s black horses, i.e., the shoes. Se cavaler likewise has reference to running away with the tail between the legs when fright has seized hold of an animal, and as employed by thieves conveys the idea of cowardice as well as that of locomotion); faire une cavale or se payer une cavale (popular: Cf., se cavaler); jouer des or se tirer les paturons (popular and thieves’: this may be translated ‘to pad the hoof.’ Paturons is properly the ‘pasterns.’ The frequent use of se tirer in connection with the idea of moving from place to place with a celerity which is oftentimes accentuated by a fear of arrest or unwelcome obstruction is extremely fitting. Se tirer means literally to extricate oneself; to get through; to pull oneself forward—extra endeavour resulting in rapid progression); happer le taillis (thieves’: lit. ‘to catch, lay hold of’ or ‘gain the copse’; i.e., a place of concealment); flasquer du poivre à quelqu’un or la rousse (thieves’: Cf., Amuse; ‘to fly from the police’; lit. ‘to shake the pepper box in the eyes of the police’; rousse is a cant term for a guardian of the peace); décaniller (thieves’: this word, derived from canille, a French provincialism for chenille, a caterpillar, is an allusion to the metamorphosis of the grub into a butterfly when it takes unto itself wings); décarrer (thieves’: to leave prison; décarrer de belle, to be released from prison without having been tried); exhiber son prussien (popular: prussien is a common colloquialism for the posteriors, and the phrase literally means ‘to show one’s behind,’ or ‘turn tail.’ It may be worth while remarking that the term prussien as applied to the breech is no vulgar expression of contempt towards the Prussians. The word is derived, says Michel, from the gypsy prusiatiñi, which Borrow translates by pistol. Formerly the French called ‘the behind’ by the name of a Parisian church, Saint-Jean le Rond); démurger (thieves’: to leave a place; to be set at liberty); désarrer (thieves’: ‘to guy’; to make beef); gagner les gigoteaux (also gagner au trot, au pied, gagner le camp, la colline, le taillis, la guérite, etc.); se faire une paire de mains courantes à la mode (thieves’); fendre l’ergot (lit. ‘to split the spur,’ an allusion to the toes being pressed to the ground, and thus naturally parted); filer son nœud, or son cable (sailors’ and popular: lit. ‘to cut the ropes’ or ‘cable’); se défiler (popular, but derived from the military term, signifying to go off parade: might be translated ‘to leg it’); s’écar-bouiller (popular: properly ‘to crush’; compare with the English synonym ‘crush’); esballonner (popular); filer son cable par le bout (sailors’); faire chibis (thieves’: ‘to escape from prison’); déraper (common); fouiner (popular: this is, in reality, no more slang than the English ‘to sneak away’); se la fracturer (popular: properly a surgical term, meaning ‘to fracture’); jouer des gambettes (popular: may be translated ‘to leg it’; ‘to stir one’s stumps’; gambettes is from the old French gambe, a leg); s’esbigner (popular: properly ‘to give the slip’); ramoner ses tuyaux (popular: lit. ‘to sweep one’s chimney’; ramoner, in its primary cant signification of ‘to mutter’ or ‘to mumble,’ is an allusion to the rumbling noise produced by sweeping a chimney. Se faire ramoner is ‘to go to confession,’ or ‘to take a purgative’—the one a moral, and the other a physical cleansing. Hence ramoner ses tuyaux, ‘to run away,’ in reference to the speedy locomotion consequent upon the process of purging); foutre le camp (popular: equivalent to ‘hook it’; a coarse expression); tirer le chausson (popular); se vanner (thieves: Michel derives this from the Italian vannare, ‘to flap the wings,’ but another authority refers it to the motions of the body and arms of a winnower; the word in literary French signifying ‘to sift’ or ‘to winnow.’ Others trace it to the old French vanoyer, ‘to disappear.’ In all cases, however, it would seem to be equivalent to the English ‘come shake yourself! be off!’); ambier (thieves’); chier du poivre (popular: ‘to abscond,’ or ‘to fail to be at hand when needed’); se débiner, or se débiner des fumerons (popular: ‘to stir one’s stumps’); caleter (popular); attacher une gamelle (popular and thieves’); camper (low); affuter ses pincettes (thieves’: lit. ‘to sharpen the pins’ or ‘to leg it’); and many others. German Synonyms. Abbaschen (from paschen, ‘to smuggle’); abbauen (literally ‘to remove, or finish’ [a building]); abfocken; abhalchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); schefften; abschnurren (a beggar-musicians’ term; also to beg through a lane, town, or district. [M.H.G., snurren, schnurren, schnurrant]); abtarchenen; abtippeln (to run away secretly); alchen (from Hebrew holach, ‘to go’); aschween (Hanoverian: according to Thiele hascheweine—probably corrupted from schuw; heschiw, ‘to turn round’); blättern (corrupted from plettern—Hebrew pleto); caball (from Latin caballus, ‘a horse’; hence, to fly quickly as if on horseback); dippeln (a Viennese thieves’ term) fucken or focken. Italian Fourbesque. Sbignare or svignare (these words though given as cant by the author of the Nuovo Modo are now received words); comprare (lit. ‘to buy’); comprar viole; allungare il muro (lit. ‘to lengthen the wall’); balzare (lit. ‘to caper,’ ‘to skip,’ ‘to bounce’); batter la calcosa (lit. ‘to beat the earth.’ Cf., American ‘to cut dirt’); dare a lata; scoscare. Spanish Germania. Piñarse (an old and now obsolete term); alar; alarse; alolargo (lit. ‘at large’); picar (lit. ‘to use the spurs’); safarse (lit. ‘to escape’ or ‘save oneself’ [from arrest]). Amuse, verb. (old cant).—To fling dust or snuff in the eyes of a person intended to be robbed. Also, to invent some plausible tale, to delude shop-keepers and others, thereby to put them off their guard, and so to obtain an opportunity of robbing them. Amusers, subs. (old cant and American thieves’).—A certain class of thieves’ accomplices who throw snuff, pepper, and other noxious substances in the eyes of the person they intend to rob, a confederate then, while apparently coming to the rescue, completing the operation. In this, as in much of the slang of the criminal classes, there runs a vein of brutal cynicism. Though obsolete in England the term survives in America amongst the criminal classes. Anabaptist, subs. (old slang).—A pickpocket caught in the act, and punished with the discipline of the pump or horse-pond.—Grose. Anchor. To come to an anchor, verb. phr. (nautical and common).—To stop; to sit down; to rest. [From the operation of bringing ships to a standstill by casting anchor.] Anchorage, subs. (common).—An abode; where one dwells. Of nautical origin (see Anchor). For synonyms, see Diggings. Ancient Mariners, subs. (Univ. Oxford).—A term applied to rowing dons. And Don’t You Forget It, phr. (American).—A senseless string of words employed indiscriminately in season and out of season. Like ‘Who’s your hatter?’ ‘How’s your poor feet?’ ‘Not for Joe!’ ‘Does your mother know you’re out?’ ‘What! again! so soon?’ and many others, which every now and then have caught the ‘fancy’ of the streets of our large towns, the phrase under consideration has run an almost riotous course through the large centres of population in America. In most cases these strings of words convey no special idea, and can only be described as utterly vulgar, without the slightest scintillation of wit or humour of any kind. 1888. Boston Weekly Globe, Feb. 29. There can be no two opposing opinions in that respect. Great capital demands dividends. Dividends can be had only from a prosperous business. A prosperous business must recognise the law of supply and demand, and if the public demand dirt the newspapers will furnish dirt—and don’t you forget it. 1888. Detroit Free Press, Oct. 6. ‘Did you see any Quakers in Philadelphia?’ was asked of a Detroiter who lately returned from that city. ‘Only one that I was sure of.’ ‘Did he ‘thee’ and ‘thou’ you?’ ‘He did. He got down off his hack and said: ‘If thee don’t pay me 2 dols. I’ll knock thy blamed head off,’ and I paid, although I knew the regular fare was twelve shillings. You don’t want to fool with those Quakers any, and don’t you forget it.’ And He Didn’t, phr. (tailors’).—A phrase of the all my eye (q.v.) stamp, i.e., ‘You tell me you have not; but for all that I think you have’—the action referred to being generally of a discreditable character. And No Mogue? phr. (tailors’).—Used in a variety of ways to signify doubt and uncertainty. It is equivalent to the street gamin’s ‘no kid?’ when used interrogatively, i.e., ‘there’s no mistake, is there?’ ‘Now, joking apart?’ Also used as a ‘set down’ to narrators claiming descent from Baron Munchausen, in which case it is equivalent to the ‘You don’t say so!’ of politer circles; in both cases the spokesman conveys the idea that one’s credulity has been somewhat taxed. And No Whistle, phr. (tailors’).—A kind of tu quoque; usually applied to a man by a listener desiring to convey to the speaker the idea that no matter what others may think to the contrary, he [the listener] believes that what has been said refers to the person speaking. Andrew Millar, subs. (nautical).—A curious cant name for a ship of war; sometimes simply Andrew. Its origin is quite unknown; but it has been pointed out that Antonio, in the Merchant of Venice, speaks of one of his vessels as his ‘wealthy Andrew’; and it has been conjectured that in this case the ship was named after the celebrated Admiral Andrea Doria, who died in 1560. But to trace any connection between this Andrew, however general the use of the name may have become, and the Andrew Millar of modern sailors’ slang, would be difficult. 1598. Shakspeare, Merchant of Venice, i., i., 27. But I should think of shallows and of flats, And see my wealthy Andrew dock’d in sand. Among Australian smugglers the term still survives for a revenue cutter. Angel or Flying Angel, subs. (common).—Explained by quotation. 1880. James Greenwood, Seaside Insanity in Odd People in Odd Places, p. 45. It is at this point when the one day excursionist, who, as well as his wife, has an olive-branch or two with him, finds his fortitude suddenly collapse. With the youngest but one (his good lady, of course, carries the baby) bestriding his shoulder, he puts his best foot foremost from the beach to the town so as to be in good time at the station. He is hot and fagged, and his temper is not improved by the knowledge that the cherub to whom he is giving a ‘flying angel’ is smearing his Sunday hat with the seaweed with which its little fists are full. Angelicas.—See Angelics. Angelics, subs. (old).—Unmarried young ladies. Now Angelicas. 1821. Moncrieff, Tom and Jerry, p. 5. (Dicks’ ed., 1889.) Jerry. You think the cut of my clothes rather too rustic—eh? Tom. Exactly; dress is the order of the day. A man must have the look of a gentleman, if he has nothing else. We must assume a style if we have it not. This, what do you call it?—this cover-me-decently, was all very well at Hawthorn Hall, I daresay; but here, among the pinks in Rotten Row, the ladybirds in the Saloon, the angelics at Almack’s, the top-of-the-tree heroes, the legs and levanters at Tattersall’s, nay, even among the millers at the Fives, it would be taken for nothing less than the index of a complete flat. Angeliferous, adj. (American).—Angelic; also super-excellent; a factitious word. It is interesting to note that ‘angelification,’ ‘angelify,’ and ‘angelified,’ were in use in the seventeenth century, but never to any great extent. [From angel + iferous, a spurious form based on the model of ‘auriferous.’] It is said to have been first used by Bird in his novel, entitled Nick of the Woods. Angels Altogether, subs. phr. (West Indian).—A sobriquet applied to habitual drunkards. It originated about the year 1876, and was, in the first instance, a bon-mot of a well-known sugar planter on the East Coast Demerara. A negro hand, notorious for his hard drinking, applied for a holiday, and the manager having a suspicion that Quashie wanted it simply to go ‘on the drink,’ bantered him as follows:—‘John! you were drunk on Sunday?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ ‘Monday too?’ ‘Yes, massa!’ and on the question being repeated as regards Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, it elicited similar responses, whereupon the ‘boss’ quietly, but pointedly said, ‘But John, you can’t be an angel altogether, you know!’ The story got abroad, caught on, and in a short time the whole colony rang with the expression. Angel’s Footstool, subs. phr. (nautical).—Yankee skippers, given to high falutin’, aver that their craft carry far more canvas than any vessel afloat of ‘foreign’ origin (the term ‘foreign’ including British bottoms, as well as those of nations other than Anglo-Saxon). Imaginary sails are crowded on their craft, among these being one which they jokingly call an angel’s footstool. It is pretended to be a square sail, and is supposed to top the skyscrapers, moon-sails, and cloud cleaners (q.v.). Angel’s Gear, subs. phr. (nautical).—It is thus that ‘jolly tars’ sometimes speak of female attire. Jack is notoriously most susceptible where a petticoat is concerned. Angel’s-Oil, subs. (old).—A seventeenth century colloquialism for money used for bribery; sometimes oil of angels. For synonyms, see Actual, and Boodle. Angel’s Suit, subs. phr. (tailors’).—A ‘combination’ garment for males. The coat and waistcoat were made in one, and the ‘unmentionables’ buttoned on to it. Neither garment nor name was extensively adopted. Angel’s Whisper, subs. phr. (military).—A name given to the call to defaulter’s drill. Needless to say it is, as Artemus Ward would express it, ‘wrote sarcastic.’ Anglers, Hookers, or Starrers, subs. (old).—Pilferers or petty thieves, who, with a stick having a hook at the end, steal goods from shop windows, etc. So far Grose; but Duncombe adds that starrers are an order of thieves who break show glasses in jewellers’ windows and, in the consequent confusion steal the goods. The term is a very ancient one. Dekker in English Villanies [1632], thus describes an ‘angler for duds’:—‘He carries a short staff in his hand, which is called a filch, having in the nab or head of it a ferme (that is to say a hole) into which, upon any piece of service, when he goes a filching, he putteth a hooke of iron, with which hook he angles at a window in the dead of night for shirts, smockes, or any other linen or woollen.’ It would appear from this that modern thieves are both much more daring and expert. It is not an uncommon thing for a crack thief, in the broad daylight, in the most crowded streets of London, to break a jeweller’s window, snatch some valuables, and make off with them. An iron instrument is used for the purpose which is concealed by the coat sleeve.—See Area sneak. Angling Cove, subs. (thieves’).—A receiver of stolen goods.—See Fence. Angling for Farthings, verb. phr. (old thieves’).—Begging out of a prison window with a cap or box, let down at the end of a long string.—Grose. Such a practice, it is needless to say, would be impossible nowadays.—See Hooker. Anglomaniacs, subs. phr. (American).—A club in Boston is thus self-styled. Its members are opposed to anything British in every shape and form. The term is of course a contradiction, and should, to express the policy of its members, be Anglophobists. Angry Boys.—See Bloods. Angular Party, subs. phr. (common).—A term given to any gathering of people of which the number is odd; say three, seven, thirteen, etc. Animal, subs. (American).—A new arrival at the United States Military Academy at West Point. Cf., Snooker. To go the whole animal (American).—A variant of ‘to go the whole hog.’ In the West Indies it is varied by ‘to go the whole dog.’—See Hog. 1838. C. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, p.... Opposing all half measures, and preferring to go the extreme animal. 1859. G. A. Sala, Twice Round the Clock, p. 62.... that they had much better pay first-class, and go the entire animal. Animules, subs. (American).—This expression is very generally used in the South-western territories, and in California, as a substitute for ‘mules.’ A witty play upon ‘animals’ and ‘mules.’ 1834(?) Centre-Pole Bill, in Overland Monthly. ‘Ten miles to town! Waal, stranger, I guess I’ll stake out here to-night. Them animules is too beat to do that. Where’s yer water?’ ‘It’s all around you to-night; but you can turn your mules into the corral.’ Ankle. To sprain one’s ankle, verb. phr. (old).—When a girl has been seduced she is said to have sprained her ankle. Both French and German slang have analogous expressions; in the former, elle a mal aux genoux is said of a woman who is pregnant, i.e., ‘she has a bad knee.’ In German, ladies so placed ‘lose a shoe’; but of synonyms there are plenty.—See Leg. Ankle-Beaters, subs. phr. (old).—A class of boys who attended cattle markets for the purpose of driving to the slaughter-house the animals purchased by the butcher. They were called ankle-beaters from their driving the animals with long wattles, and beating them on the legs to avoid spoiling or bruising the flesh. Also called penny-boys (q.v.), because they received one penny per head as remuneration. Anne’s Fan, properly Queen Anne’s Fan, subs. phr. (common).—Putting the tip of the thumb of either hand to the nose, and then spreading the fingers in the shape of a fan. A gesture of contempt often intensified either by twiddling the digits when in the position named, or by similarly placing the other hand in an extended line. It is also called taking a sight (q.v.), and biting the thumb (q.v.). Annex, verb. (American).—To steal; in England the wise it call ‘convey.’—See Bone. Anodyne, subs. (American thieves’).—A euphemism for death. From the figurative sense of the word—anything that soothes wounded or excited feelings, or that lessens the sense of misfortunes. Cf., Old English slang term for a halter, Anodyne necklace. Verb. (American thieves’).—To kill. Cf., foregoing; also To cook one’s goose. Anodyne Necklace, subs. phr. (old).—A halter. An anodyne is that which allays or extinguishes pain, and the hangman’s rope may indeed be regarded, from one point of view, as a cure for all pains. The expression is old, being traced back to 1639. During the period when the death penalty was inflicted for all kinds of comparatively trivial offences—for sheep stealing, and even highway robberies of not more than forty shillings value—synonyms equally grim and sententious were numerous. According to Wilyam Bullein, an anodyne necklace was that which ‘light fellows merrily will call ... neckweede, or Sir Tristam’s knot, or St. Andrew’s lace (q.v.).’ Other terms for the hangman’s noose were hempen cravat, horse’s nightcap, Tyburn tippet (q.v.). 1639. F. Beaumont, Bloody Brother, Act iii., Sc. 2. [Speaks of the hangman’s halter as a ‘necklace.’] 1766. Oliver Goldsmith, Vicar of Wakefield [works, Globe ed., chap. xx., p. 43.] [George Primrose’s cousin exclaims] ‘May I die by an anodyne necklace, but I’d rather be an under-turnkey in Newgate [than an usher in a boarding-school]’. The water poet (John Taylor, a Thames waterman, 1580–1654), explaining the virtue of hemp, says:— Some call it neck-weed, for it hath a tricke To cure the necke that’s troubled with the crick. An anodyne necklace was also the name of a quack amulet, which, for a long period, was a household word. This famous remedy occupied as prominent a position in the advertising columns of the journals of the middle of the eighteenth as Holloway’s pills in the latter part of the nineteenth century. This necklace was of beads artificially prepared, small, like barleycorns, and cost five shillings. For foreign synonyms, see Horse’s nightcap. Anoint, verb. (familiar).—To beat soundly; to thrash; humorously derived from the proper meaning of the word, ‘to smear’ or ‘rub over with oil or other unctuous substances.’ In the North of England the saying is somewhat more analogous—‘to anoint with the sap of a hazel rod.’ 1175. Rom. of Partenay (Skeat), 5653. Then thay put hym hout, the kyng away fly, Which so well was anoynted indede, That no slene ne pane had he hole of brede. 1703. Fuller’s Trip to Bridewell, quoted in Ashton’s The Fleet, p. 211. The whipper began to noint me with his instrument, that had, I believe, about a dozen strings notted at the end. 1748. Smollett, Rod. Random, ch. v. ‘I’ll bring him to the gangway, and anoint him with a cat-and-nine-tails.’ 1824. W. Irving, Tales of a Trav., II., 287. Seize a trusty staff and anoint the back of the aggressor. There seems to be some connection, too, between this sense of to anoint, and the depraved use of anointed (q.v.) to signify great rascality. Cf., Strap oil. Anoint or Grease the Palm, verb. phr. (common).—To bribe. The Scotch say ‘to creesh the luif.’ The expression is very old. 1584. Knox, Hist. of Reformation, works [1846] I., 102. Yea, the handis of our Lordis so liberallie were anoynted. See Grease the palm. Anointed, ppl. adj. (old).—1. Used in a depraved sense to signify eminence in rascality. The most probable derivation appears to be that suggested by Prof. Skeat [N. and Q., 3 S., ix., 422]. In a French MS., Romance of Melusine, is an account of a man who had received a thorough and severe beating, which is thus referred to:—Qui anoit este si bien oignt. The English version [Early English Text Society] translates this, ‘which so well was anoynted indeed.’ From this it is clear that to anoint a man was to give him a sound drubbing, and that the word was so used in the fifteenth century. Thus, an anointed rogue means either one who has been well thrashed or who has deserved to be. Cf., To anoint. 1769. Robertson, Hist. of Reign of Charles V. Many assumed the clerical character for no other reason than that it might screen them from the punishment which their actions deserved. The German nobles complained loudly that their anointed malefactors, as they called them, seldom suffered capitally even for the most enormous crimes. 1825. Scott, St. Ronan’s Well, ch. xxxvii. ‘But, not being Lord Etherington, and an anointed scoundrel into the bargain, I will content myself with cudgelling him to death.’ 2. Knowing; ripe for mischief.—Duncombe. Anonyma, subs. (popular).—A lady of the demi-monde; generally, though not invariably, applied to one of the better class. Women of this status were also called by the Times pretty horsebreakers, a notorious anonyma (circa 1868) having been a good horsewoman. Another and earlier name was Incognita; this as well as anonyma had reference to the unrecognised position these ladies hold in what is called ‘Society,’ which tries to shut its eyes to a product of its own vice. The French cocotte best corresponds to the English term. For synonyms generally, see Barrack hack. 1864. G. A. Sala, Quite Alone, ch. i. Is that anonyma driving twin ponies in a low phaeton, a parasol attached to her whip, and a groom with folded arms behind her? Bah! there are so many anonymas nowadays. If it isn’t the Nameless One herself, it is Synonyma. 1865. Ouida, Strathmore, ch. vi. ‘I’m getting tired of Mondes, one confounds so easily with Demi-monde, and aristocrats that are so near allied to anonyma.’ 1881. Doran, In and about Drury Lane, vol. II., p. 159. Those anonymas, who dress with such exquisite propriety lest they should be mistaken for modest women. 1889. Modern Society, July 13, p. 852. ‘Christopher’s Honeymoon,’ by Mr. Malcolm Watson, produced at the Strand, on Wednesday, is not wholly bad, but it is too thin. The honeymooner is surprised at his wedding breakfast by the news that a former wife, whom he thought dead, is still alive. Matters are still further complicated when his mother-in-law mistakes his buxom laundress for a fair anonyma. Another. You’re another, phr. (common).—A retort—in usage hardly courteous or suave. Generally spoken in anger or resentment. The quotations which follow specify clearly the manner of use. It is interesting to note how very old is this common rejoinder—nearly 350 years; it is, moreover, an example which fully illustrates the value of the historical method in dealing with slang words and phrases. c. 1534. N. Udall, Roister Doister, III., v., p. 58 (Arber). R. Royster. If it were another but thou, it were a tenane. M. Mery. Ye are an other your selfe, sir. [M.] 1750. Fielding, Tom Jones, bk. IX., ch. vi. ‘You mistake me, friend,’ cries Partridge, ‘I did not mean to abuse the cloth; I only said your conclusion was a non-sequitur.’ ‘You are another,’ cries the Serjeant, ‘an’ you come to that. No more a sequitur than yourself.’ 1836. Dickens, Pickwick, ch. xv., p. 123. ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, ‘you’re a fellow.’ ‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘you’re another.’ 1888. Sir W. Harcourt, Speech at Eighty Club, Feb. 21. You know the little urchins in the street have a conclusive argument. They say ‘you’re another.’ Another Acrobat, phr. (music-hall).—Another drink—acrobat being a play upon the word ‘tumbler,’ i.e., a glass. Another Guess, adj., or Another Guess Sort of Man, phr. (old). A cute man; one who is, in modern lingo, up to snuff (q.v.). ‘Guess’ suggests an erroneous derivation; the word is really a corruption of ‘another-gates’ [according to Murray the original genitive case ‘of another-gate, i.e., of another way, manner, or fashion’]. Another Lie Nailed to the Counter, phr. (American).—A detected slander. The practice of nailing spurious coins to shop counters is, even yet, not an obsolete custom in country districts; and hence, probably, is derived this colloquialism. 1888. Texas Siftings, Oct. 20. ‘Who employed you last?’ ‘A Republican speaker, who had me back up his declaration that Cleveland was in the habit of beating his wife!’ ‘But that lie was nailed a good while ago.’ ‘I know it,’ chuckled the C.L., ‘but it’s easy enough to pull out the nail.’ Antagonise, verb. (sporting).—This, ‘to act as an opponent,’ sounds very like slang; but, as a matter of fact, so long as the antagonising forces are of the same kind the word is legitimate enough. It has been so used from 1634 downwards, by Herbert, Keats, John Stuart Mill, and others. Only when (as for example in America a person in political phraseology is said to antagonise a measure when it is meant that he opposes it) the word is used in connection with antagonistic forces not of a kind can it be regarded as partaking of slang. In the quotation by Barrère from the Saturday Review (no date given: refer, however, to Sat. R., Dec. 18, 1886, p. 799) the word is used in a perfectly correct manner. 1886. Saturday Review on Sporting Slang, 18 Dec, p. 799, col. 1. Dingley Dell sent Jones and Robinson to the wickets, where they were antagonised with the leather by Alf and the Young Phenomenon. Anthony, or To Cuff Anthony, verb. (old).—To knock one’s knees together from an infirmity. Also called to cuff Jonas. Antony, or Anthony Cuffin, subs.—A knock-kneed man. Anthony, or Tantony Pig, subs. (old).—See Tantony pig. 1787. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. The favourite or smallest pig in the litter; to follow like a tantony pig, i.e., St. Anthony’s pig, signified to follow close at one’s heels. St. Anthony, the hermit, was a swine herd, and is always represented with his bell and pig. Antimony, subs. (printers’).—Type; so called from one of its component parts. Anyhow. Anyhow you can fix it, phr. (American).—A slang expression of acquiescence as, e.g., ‘I don’t know if you’ll succeed, but anyhow you can fix it.’ Any Other Man! phr. (American).—A call to order addressed to prosy, discursive speakers when they give themselves over to the use of synonymous terms. Any Racket, subs. (rhyming slang).—A penny faggot. Anything. Like, or as anything, adv. phr. (common).—A vulgarism rather than slang. Used in the same manner, as are like one o’clock; like old boots (q.v.), when a person is at a loss for a simile.—See Winkey. 1542. Udall’s Erasmus Apoph., p. 32. The young maiden, where the lokers on quaked and trembled for feare, daunced without any feare at all emong sweardes and kniues, beyng as sharpe as anythyng. 1740. Richardson, Pamela, ii., 57. O my dear father and mother, I fear your girl will grow as proud as anything. 1840. Barham, I. L. (Misadv. at Margate). The tear-drop in his little eye again began to spring, His bosom throbb’d with agony, he cried like anything. 1878. Carroll, Through a Looking Glass, iv., 73. They wept like anything to see such quantities of sand. Anythingarian, subs. (common).—A contemptuous term for one who is apathetic as regards his political or religious creed, or other matters upon which mankind generally hold decided views. [From anything + arian, after trinit-arian, unit-arian.] 1717. Entertainer, Nov. 6 [quoted in N. & Q., 7 S., vi., 66]. Nor, which is ten times worse, Free-thinkers, Atheists, Anythingarians. 1738. Swift, Polite Conversation (conv. i.). Lady Sm. What religion is he of? Lady Sp. Why, he is an anythingarian. Lady Ans. I believe he has his religion to chuse, my lord. 1849. C. Kingsley, Alton Locke, ch. xxii. They made puir Robbie Burns an anythingarian with their blethers. Anythingarianism, subs. (popular).—The creed or doctrine of an Anythingarian.—[See preceding]. 1851. C. Kingsley (Life, i., 215). Schiller’s ‘Gods of Greece’ expresses, I think, a tone of feeling very common, and which finds its vent in modern Neo-Platonism—Anythingarianism. Anything Else.—See Not doing anything else. Anywhere Down There! (tailors’).—If, in a workroom or elsewhere where tailors congregate, an article is dropped upon the floor, anywhere down there! is used as a kind of catch-phrase. Apartments. To have apartments to let, verb. phr. (popular).—1. To take rank in the estimation of one’s fellows as an idiot; ‘a born fool’—one who is empty-headed, not furnished with brains. English Synonyms. To be dotty; to have a screw loose; to be balmy; to have a bee in one’s bonnet (Scotch); to be off one’s chump; to have no milk in the cocoa-nut; to be touched; to be balmy in one’s crumpet; to be wrong in the upper storey; to have rats in the upper storey; to have a tile loose; to be half baked. French Synonyms. Avoir une écrevisse dans la tourte, or dans le vol-au-vent (popular: that is ‘to have a crawfish in the pie,’ or ‘in the head.’ Cf., ‘to have rats in the upper storey’); avoir la boule détraquée (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s ball turned’); avoir le coco félé (popular: lit. ‘to have one’s cocoa nut cracked.’ In English slang the head is also called a ‘cocoa-nut’); avoir le trognon détraquée (popular: ‘to have a bee in one’s bonnet.’ Trognon is also a slang term for the head or ‘noddle’); avoir un asticot dans la noisette (popular: lit. ‘to have a maggot in one’s nut.’ In English slang the head is likewise ‘the nut.’ Cf., also the expression ‘a worm in the bud’); avoir un bœuf gras dans le char (popular); avoir un cancrelat dans la boule (popular: lit. ‘to have a cockroach in one’s ball’—‘ball’ here referring to the head or ‘nut.’ Cancrelat is properly kakerlac or American cockroach); avoir un hanneton dans le reservoir (popular: lit. ‘to have a May-bug’ or ‘cockchafer in one’s cistern’ or ‘well.’ This seems to be on all fours with ‘a bee in one’s bonnet.’ The phrase sometimes runs avoir un hanneton dans le plafond, i.e., to have a cockchafer in one’s ceiling, and here the analogy between the two phrases is more clearly marked); avoir un moustique dans la boite au sel (popular: lit. ‘to have a mosquito in the salt-box or cellar’); avoir un voyageur dans l’omnibus (popular); avoir une araignée dans le plafond (popular: lit. ‘to have a spider in the head’; plafond, ‘a ceiling,’ be it noted is a slang term for ‘the head’); avoir une grenouille dans l’aquarium (popular: lit: ‘to have a frog in one’s aquarium’); avoir une hirondelle dans le soliveau (popular: ‘to have a swallow in the head’); avoir une Marseillaise dans le Kiosque (popular); avoir une punaise dans le soufflet (popular: ‘to have a bug in one’s brain’); avoir une sardine dans l’armoire à glace (popular: ‘to have a sardine in the head or brain.’ Armoire à glace = the head); avoir une trichinne dans le jambonneau (popular: jambonneau, the head); avoir une sauterelle dans la guitare (popular: lit. ‘to have a grasshopper in the guitar’). For other synonyms, see Tile loose. 2. A widow is said to have apartments to let. Ape-leader, subs. (old).—An old maid. Leading apes in hell was the employment jocularly assigned to those who neglected to assume marital functions while living. 1581. Lyly, Euphucs (Arb.), 87. Rather thou shouldest leade a lyfe to thine owne lyking in earthe, than ... leade apes in hell. [M.] 1605. Lond. Prodigal, I., 2. ’Tes an old proverb, and you know it well, that women dying maids lead apes in hell. 1717. Mrs. Centlivre, Bold Stroke, II., 1. Poor girl; she must certainly lead apes, as the saying is. 1830. General P. Thompson, Exerc. (1842), I., 198. Joining with other old women, in leading their apes in Tartarus. [M.] There are several proverbial sayings in which the ape plays an important part. To say an ape’s paternoster is to chatter with cold; this corresponds with the French, dire des patenôtres de singe. To put an ape into one’s hood or cap, to make a fool of one, etc. Apes, subs. (Stock Exchange).—Atlantic and North-Western Railway first mortgage bonds. Apostles, or The Twelve Apostles, subs. phr. (Cambridge Univ.).—Formerly, when the Poll, or ordinary B.A. degree list was arranged in order of merit, the last twelve were nicknamed The Twelve Apostles. They were also called The Chosen Twelve, and the last, St. Poll or St. Paul—a punning allusion to 1 Cor. xv., 9, ‘For I am the least of the Apostles, that am not meet to be called an Apostle.’ The list is now arranged alphabetically and in classes. Hotten suggests that Apostles is a corruption of post alios, i.e., ‘after the others.’ It may perhaps also be mentioned that in one American University at least, Columbia College, D.C., the last twelve on the B.A. list actually receive the personal names of the Apostles. 1795. Gentleman’s Magazine, Jan., p. 19. [The last twelve names on the Cambridge list are here called The Twelve Apostles.] Manœuvering the Apostles, a variant of the familiar expression, ‘to rob Peter to pay Paul’; i.e., to borrow from one person to pay another. Apostle’s Grove, subs. (common).—The London district known as St. John’s Wood. Also called grove of the evangelist. Both names are applied sarcastically in allusion to the large numbers of the demi-monde who live in that quarter of town. Apothecary. To talk like an apothecary, verb phr. (old).—To talk nonsense; from the pseudo gravity and affectation of knowledge often assumed by these gentlemen at a time when their status was not legally held under examination and license of the Apothecaries’ Company. Apothecaries’ bill, subs. (old).—A long bill. Apothecaries’, or raw Latin, subs. (old).—Now called dog-Latin (q.v.). Apple Cart, subs. (common). 1. The human body. A slang term similar to ‘potato trap,’ ‘bread-basket,’ ‘bellows,’ ‘blue plumb,’ ‘bacon,’ and ‘beer-barrel’ (all of which see). There are numerous variations in usage; e.g., if two men are quarrelling, and a friend of one interferes saying ‘I will upset his apple cart’ it means, ‘while you are parleying with the enemy I will knock him down.’ Again, if a child falls down, says W. W. Skeat (referring to his early Kentish remembrance of the word), you first enquire if he is much hurt. If he is merely a little frightened you say, ‘Well, never mind, then; you’ve only upset your apple cart and spilt the gooseberries.’ The child laughs and all is well again. 2. Also employed in a figurative sense. To upset an apple cart sometimes means, not so much to knock a man down, as to prevent him from doing what he wants to do by the upsetting as it were, of an imaginary apple cart; i.e., to thwart; to disarrange; to overthrow; to ruin an undertaking. Sometimes the expression is varied by to upset the old woman’s apple cart. Barrère’s reference of the genesis of the phrase to the costermonger’s imaginative powers is ‘all conjecture and fancy’; as also is his American derivation of the expression in its more figurative sense. In the first place apple carts are perfectly familiar objects in all country districts; and, in the second, the phrase is too old a provincialism to need deriving from the peripatetic vendors in question. Further, though to upset his apple cart and spill the peaches may be an American variation for the second sense, as it appears to have been so used, dialectically, throughout England, the weight of assumption must be given to its English origin, and subsequent transference to America. English Synonyms. Beer-barrel; bacon. French Synonyms. Acabit (literally, quality); cylindre (popular: lit. ‘a cylinder,’ or ‘barrel.’ Cf. with English ‘beer barrel’); grosse caisse (popular: lit. ‘a large case,’ or ‘box’); paillasse (popular: lit. ‘a straw mattress’); also place d’armes; casaquin. Apple Dumpling Shop, subs. phr. (common).—A woman’s bosom. For synonyms, see Dairies. Apple-Monger.—The same as apple-squire (q.v.). Apple-Pie Bed, subs. phr. (common).—A practical joke, which consists in making up a bed with the sheets doubled half way up, so as to prevent a person from stretching out at full length, and filling the bag thus formed with brushes, soap-dishes, etc. So called, either from the apple-turnover, in which the ‘paste’ is turned over the apples, or from the French, à plis, folded. 1811. C. K. Sharpe, in Correspondence (1888), i., 466. After squeezing myself up, and making a sort of apple-pye bed with the beginning of my sheet. 1883. Saturday Review, Nov. 3, p. 566, col. 2. Some ‘evil-disposed persons’ have already visited his room, made his bed into an apple-pie, plentifully strewn with hair-brushes and razors. The French have an analogous phrase, ‘mettre un lit en portefeuille.’ Apple-Pie Day, subs. phr. (Winchester Coll.)—The day on which Six-and-Six (q.v.) is played. It is the Thursday after the first Tuesday in December. So called because hot apple-pies were served on gomers (q.v.) in College for dinner. Apple Pie Order, subs. phr. (familiar).—Exact or perfect order. Etymologists have long puzzled themselves concerning this expression, and many derivations have been put forward in explanation. Some have found in it an allusion to the regular order in which the component parts of some varieties of that toothsome delicacy, apple pie, were formerly laid one on the top of, or side by side with each other. Others, on the contrary, scout such a homely origin, and suggest that apple pie order is cap à pied order. The authorities who incline to this view point out that cap à pied in the sense of ‘perfectly appointed’ occurs in one of the scenes of Hamlet. Though orthographically the transition from one to the other, at first sight, would appear to be somewhat lame and halting, yet phonetically the difference is much less marked. It has further been suggested that apple pie order is a corruption of ‘Alpha-beta’ i.e., alphabetical order, but this would seem rather far-fetched, as also is the reference of it to the nursery rhyme of ‘A was an apple pie; B bit it; C cut it; D divided it,’ and so on, the allusion being to the regular order in which the letters of the alphabet occur. Probably the weight of evidence is on the side of the derivation from cap à pied, more especially as that phrase was once very familiar. 1813. Scott in Lochart, Life, IV. (1839), 131. The children’s garden is in apple pie order. 1835. Marryat, Jacob Faithful, viii., 29. Put the craft a little into apple pie order. 1837. Barham, I. L. (Old Woman in Grey). I am just in the order which some folks—though why, I am sure I can’t tell you—would call apple pie. Apples. How we apples swim! phr. (common).—i.e., ‘What a good time we are having.’ This expression, a very old one, is synonymous with pleasureable experience coupled with brisk action. 1697–1764. Hogarth (Works by J. Ireland and J. Nichols, London, 1873), III., p. 29. And even this, little as it is, gives him so much importance in his own eyes, that he assumes a consequential air, sets his arms akimbo, and strutting among the historical artists cries, ‘how we apples swim.’ 1860. Cornhill Mag. (D. Mallett, Tyburn), Dec., p. 737. While tumbling down the turbid stream, Lord, love us, how we apples swim. Apples and Pears, subs. phr. (rhyming slang).—A pair of stairs. Apple-Squire, subs. (old).—A harlot’s attendant, or fancy man (q.v.); these gentry are now commonly called ‘bullies’ (q.v.). Nares gives ‘squire of the body’ as a synonymous term; also apron-squire. 1500. (circa) Way to Spyttel Hous, 832 in Hazl. E. P. P., iv., 60. [Here given as applesquyers.] [1580–1654] Taylor, Discourse by Sea (works II., 21). Are whoremasters decai’d, are bawds all dead, Are pandars, pimps, and apple-squires all fled? [N.] 1738. Poor Robin.... Little truth will be found amongst cut-purses, liars, bawds, whores, pimps, pandars, and apple-squires; only the pimp pretends to something more of truth than the other, for if he promise to help you to a whore, he will be sure that she shall not be an honest woman. [N.] For synonyms, ancient and modern, and also foreign equivalents, see Fancy man. Apron. Green apron, subs. (old).—A contemptuous term for a lay preacher.—See Bible-pounder. 1654. Warren, Unbelievers, 145. It more befits a green-apron preacher, than such a Gamaliel. [M.] 1705. Hickeringill, Priestcraft I. (1721). 21. Unbeneficed Noncons. (that live by Alms and no Paternoster, no Penny, say the green-aprons). [M.] 1765. Tucker, Lt. Nat., II., 451. The gifted priestess amongst the Quakers is known by her green apron. [M.] Aproneer, subs. (old).—A shop-keeper; a tradesman. Murray states that the term was used contemptuously of the Parliamentary party during the Civil Wars. 1659. Gauden, Tears of Church, 238. Some prating sequestrator, or some surly aproneer. 1690. D’urfey, Collin’s Walk, c. iii., p. 107. But every sturdy aproneer, arm’d with battoon, did straight appear. Apron-Rogue, subs. (old).—A labourer; a mechanic. 1663. Killegrew, Parson’s Wedding in Dodsley’s Old Plays (1780), XI., 382. Apron-rogues with horn hands. [M.] Apron-Squire.—See Apple-squire. Apron-String Hold or Tenure, subs. phr. (familiar).—An estate held by a man during his wife’s life; or by virtue of her right. 1647. Ward, Simp. Cobler, 67. Apron-string tenure is very weak. [M.] 1753. Richardson, Grandison, iv., 23. He cursed the apron-string tenure, by which he said he held his peace. [d.] 1804. Mrs. Barbauld, Richardson I., 160. All her fortune in her own power—a very apron-string tenure. Apron-Strings. To be tied to or always at a woman’s apron-strings, verb. phr. (common).—Under petticoat government; to dangle after a woman. Formerly said only of children; later of all who follow a woman subserviently. 1712. Spectator, No. 506. The fair sex are so conscious to themselves, that they have nothing in them which can deserve entirely to ingross the whole man, that they heartily despise one, who, to use their own expression, is always hanging at their apron-strings. 1834. Miss Edgeworth, Helen, ch. viii. A homebred lordling, who, from the moment he slipped his mother’s apron-strings, had fallen into folly. 1849. Macaulay, History of England, II., 649. He could not submit to be tied to the apron-strings even of the best of wives. Aqua, subs. (American thieves’).—Water. From the Latin. Aqua Pompaginis, subs. phr. (old).—Pump water [Dog-Latin; from L., aqua, water + English, pump + simulated Latin termination, aginis]. 1785. Grose, Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. Aqua Pompaginis.... Apothecaries’ Latin. 1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 13. ‘Exactly my sentiments,’ rejoined Blueskin. ‘I wouldn’t force him for the world; but if he don’t tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don’t get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. Let’s have a look at the kinchen that ought to have been throttled,’ added he, snatching the child from Wood. ‘My stars! here’s a pretty lullaby-cheat to make a fuss about—ho ho!’ 1839. Harrison Ainsworth, Jack Sheppard [1889], p. 15. ‘He shall go through the whole course,’ replied Blueskin, with a ferocious grin, ‘unless he comes down to the last grig. We’ll lather him with mud, shave him with a rusty razor, and drench him with aqua pompaginis.’ For synonyms, see Adam’s ale. Aquatics, subs. (Eton college).—The particular game of cricket in which men in the boats play. Aqua-Vitæ, subs. (old).—Formerly an alchemic term; but, after a while, popularly received as a generic name for ardent spirits, such as brandy, whiskey, etc. [From L. = water of life. Cf., French eau-de-vie, and Irish usquebaugh.] Arabs, subs. (common).—Nicknames for young street vagrants are numerous. They are ‘Bedouins,’ ‘Street Arabs,’ and ‘Juvenile Roughs’ in London; they are ‘Gamins’ in Paris; ‘Bowery Boys’ in New York; ‘Hoodlums’ in San Francisco; and ‘Larrikins’ in Melbourne. This last phrase is an Irish constable’s broad pronunciation of ‘larking,’ applied to the nightly street performances of these young scamps, there, as elsewhere, a real social pestilence.—See Street Arab. 1848. Guthrie, Plea for Ragged Schools. [In this work the homeless wanderers and children of the streets were spoken of as Arabs of the City, and City Arabs.] Arbor Vitæ, subs. (old).—The penis. [Latin; = the Tree of Life]. For synonyms, see Creamstick. Arch.—See Ark. Arch-Cove or Arch-Rogue, subs. (thieves’).—The chief or leader of a gang of thieves. [From Greek, archo to be first, to command, to rule + cove, a slang term for a man.] Formerly also dimber damber, upright man.—See Cove and Area sneak. Archdeacon, subs. (Oxford Univ.).—Merton strong ale. Arch-Dell or Arch-Doxy, subs. (old).—The wife or female companion of an arch-cove.—See Dell. Archduke, subs. (old slang).—A buffoon; an eccentric person. Arch Gonnof.—See Dimber damber. Ard, adj. (American thieves’).—Hot; a corrupted form of ‘ardent.’ Formerly ‘a foot.’—See Creepers. Area-Sneak, subs. (common).—A thief who lurks about areas for the purposes of theft. 1838. Dickens, Nicholas Nickleby, ch. lix., p. 480. ‘Why wasn’t I a thief, swindler, housebreaker, area-sneak, robber of pence out of the trays of blind man’s dogs?’ 1869. English Mechanic, 14 May, p. 181, col. 1. [They] would invariably become pickpockets or area-sneaks. 1883. Daily Telegraph, June 13, p. 7, col. 3. The area-sneak, too, may find his occupation partially gone through the strictness of the rules which encompass the trade of the second-hand dealer. Among other names for thieves may be mentioned:— English and American. Beak or beaker-hunter (a poultry thief); bug-hunter (speciality—breast pins, studs, etc.); buz-faker (a pickpocket); buttock and file (a shoplifter); bouncer (one who steals while bargaining with a tradesman; a shoplifter); bridle-cull (a highwayman); cracksman (a burglar); crossman (an old term. Literally a man ‘on the cross,’ or who gets his living surreptitiously); cross-cove (see foregoing); conveyancer (a pickpocket); dancer (a thief who gains entrance to houses from the roof); flash-cove (a sharper); flashman (a prostitute’s bully who pretends to catch the victim in flagrante delicto with his wife, and thus makes an excuse for robbery and extortion); finder (a thief who confines his depredations to meat-markets and butchers’ shops); gun (a contraction of gonnof, which see); gleaner, hooker, or angler (these are petty thieves, who work with hooks and rods); lob-sneak; lully-prigger (one who steals clothes when they are hanging out to dry); snakesman or sneaksman (a shoplifter; a petty thief); sneeze-lurker (this kind work by first blinding victims with pepper, etc.); moucher (a prowling thief); mill-ben (an old cant term, which see); prig; prop-nailer (a ‘prop’ is a scarf pin); palmer (a thief who ‘rings the changes’; but see under Palmer); pudding-snammer (an eating-house thief); drummer or drammer (these gentry stupify their victims prior to robbing them); stook-hauler (speciality—pocket-handkerchiefs); tooler (a pickpocket); toy-getter (a watch thief). French Synonyms. Un droguiste (corresponds to the English ‘hawk’ or ‘rook’); un chêne affranchi (a ‘flash cove’); un careur, or voleur à la care (thief who robs money-changers while pretending to offer old coins for sale); un enfant de la matte (‘a child of folly.’—See Family man); un tiretaine (a country thief); un garçon de cambrouse (a highwayman); un garçon de campagne (same as example last quoted); un frère de la manicle; un philantrope (a peddlar’s term); un bonjourier or voleur au bonjour (an early morning thief, but see under Thieves); un philibert (of the sharper stamp); un philosophe (lit. ‘a philosopher’); un enfant de minuit (formerly, says Cotgrave, enfants de la messe de minuit, i.e., companions of the midnight mass, not for devotion, but for robbery and abuse); ramastiqueur (one who swindles by means of pocket-book dropping, etc.—a variety of the confidence trick); un jardinier, un Americain (‘confidence trick’ men); un tirebogue (a watch thief; in English slang a ‘toy-getter’); un friauche; un grinchisseur de bogues (a watch thief); un mion de boule (equivalent to the English ‘prig’); un fil de soie; un doubleur (= English ‘prig’; un doubleur de sorgue, ‘a night thief’); un voleur à la tire (a pickpocket); un tireur (a pickpocket; literally ‘one who draws out’); etc. German Synonyms. Broschem-blatter; cochem (a thieves’ accomplice; from Hebrew chochem, wise, instructed); erntemackener (thieves who steal from houses while the owners are away harvesting. From erndte, harvest + machen, to make); anstiebler (one who plans robberies; an instigator to theft. A corrupted form of anstifter, an instigator); achbrosch (also achberosch, achperosch, achprosch, approsch, an infamous thief or robber, a rogue, a sharper. Not so much from the Chaldean achbero, a mouse + rosch, head, as from the passage Jer. Baba. Mez. 8., achberi reschii, i.e., ‘the mice are vile.’ Hence applied primarily to a notorious thief. Thiele says the expressions have not been so much in use since the suppression of the famous Rhenish robber gang; the words, however, particularly achbrosch, are not by any means obsolete, being very much in use by cattle and horsedealers, and sharpers generally); ganof (Hebrew, ‘a thief’; from gonaw, ‘to steal’); achelpeter (an inactive lazy old thief who sponges upon his confederates. From Hebrew ochal, to eat + putzen, from O.H.G., bizan, pizzan, ‘food’); golehopser (a thief who jumps on a loaded cart or other vehicle whilst in motion to steal boxes or small packages. In English slang this kind of thief is called a ‘dragsman’); goleschàchter (the same as preceding, but instead of making off bodily with the booty, the packages are cut open, and the contents thrown down for an accomplice to secure); bihengst (a thief who steals bees); baldower (a principal, or leader of a gang of thieves; one who advises and plans robberies. Balhoche is also a man who has an opportunity for theft; balspiess, the host of an inn, frequented by thieves and rogues); brenner (a thief who preys upon others of his kind, by demanding, under threats of exposure, a share of a successful robbery, without having taken part in it. From brennen, ‘to claim’; literally ‘to burn’; or it may be from berennen, ‘to run against or blockade’); chalfan (also chalfen, chalfener, chilfer, legitimately ‘a money changer,’ but amongst German thieves the name of the rogue who, in changing money, commits theft. Cf., English, ‘ringing the changes’); chawer (Hebrew: literally an associate; chaweress [fem.], a thief’s confederate; a comrade. Chawrusse, kabruse, a gang or confederation of thieves; chawrusse melochenen, to form a gang of thieves; chenneter, a thief who knows how to conduct himself with tact and address in good society. From the Hebrew chono, gentle, kind, affable); chessenspiess, fem., chessenspiesse (the landlord or mistress of an inn frequented by thieves—a place where they may find refuge without fear of discovery. From the Hebrew); chechom (also chochem, chochemer,—more frequently spelled with ‘K’—from the Hebrew, the wise one. A prudent, cunning thief. Chochem lehorre, a dangerous thief, one prepared for the worst; of a similar meaning is chochem mechutten, a dangerous companion, a rogue of the worst type); bahnherr (also bohnherr and Herr by itself: literally ‘a road-master’; a burglar—one who prepares a robbery); diffler (a thoroughly dexterous thief; from tupfel, ‘a point’); drängler (a thief, who, to divert the attention of people from his intention, causes a crowd to assemble); paddendrücker (a pickpocket—one whose speciality is purses: drücker is a corrupted form of trecken, ‘to draw’ or ‘steal’ quickly and adroitly. Drücker, like drücken, ‘to steal’ is never used by itself, but always with the object of the theft; hence paddendrücker, a purse thief; luppendrücker, a watch thief; torfdrücker, a generic name for a pickpocket); eintreiber (a confederate who entices a victim to play so that his comrade may swindle him); erefschieber (a thief who goes out at evening time to commit robberies. Also erefhalchener, erefgänger, erefhändler. Eref = evening); fichtegänger (a night thief or burglar); fiesel (supposed to be derived from faser, ‘a birch,’ ‘rod,’ or ‘fibre.’ In Vienna, the scum of society is meant by fiesel—the commonest thief, professional vagabond, a protector of brothels and whores of the most repulsive kind. These thieves are of great daring, utterly unscrupulous, and are consequently much dreaded. Some feign to carry on the business of a rag and bone-picker, what in the fiesellange or Viennese thieves’ lingo is termed, ‘going out for profit.’ In the sense of ‘a rod,’ fiesel is applied to the membrum genitale masculi; hence fiesel as synonymous with strength, i.e., pertaining to the stronger sex. It was formerly used in connection with many other words; e.g., mädchenfiesel, ‘one who habitually runs after women,’ ‘a molrower,’ a ‘loose fish.’ Fiesel-language means the language of the strong, of those belonging to the fellowship of thieves, burglars, and rowdies); freikäufer (a thief whose speciality it is to steal at fairs and markets); freischupper (a card sharper; a gambling cheat who carries on his business in crowded places of public resort); gacheler (also gachler, gackler, kachler, kakler, kegler: a pantry thief; one who steals eatables and plate from kitchens whilst servants are attending at table); gannew (from Hebrew gonaw, ‘to steal’); gaslan (from Hebrew gosal, ‘to rob’); glitscher (gypsy: glitschin, ‘the key’: a thief who works by means of skeleton keys); godler chochem (from Hebrew godol, great, strong, celebrated + Hebrew chochem, the wise one; hence, a clever rogue, a thief who thoroughly understands his business); goi gomur (an utterly unreliable confederate. Goi, plural gojim is applied to those not Jews, to Christians; in the plural, especially, in the sense of ignorant people, suspicious or two-faced characters; also used as a synonym for Philistine—a man of whom one has to be careful. Goje [fem.] is almost always used contemptuously for a female); götte (also götti, göde, göttling [O.H.G., gataling] a confederate, a relative—especially used to denote one who has been doing good business); gutenmorgenwünscher (literally ‘good morning wisher’: thieves who break into rooms early in the morning for purposes of robbery. The French have an analogous expression in bonjourier, or voleur au bon jour). For other synonyms, see Thieves. Italian Synonyms (Fourbesque). Quadro (a cut-purse. In the Germania or Spanish argot, quadro is used in the sense of ‘a poignard,’ and quadrata in that of ‘purse.’ Possibly the Fourbesque quadro is derived from one of these words. In Italian it is literally ‘a square’ or ‘a rule’); granchetto (also ‘one who speaks gibberish’); lavorante di scarpe (a pickpocket or cut-purse: lit. ‘working shoes’); camuffo; fiadetto (also ‘a dolt,’ ‘a duffer’); carpione; truccante (also ‘a beggar’). Spanish Synonyms (Germania). Aquila (a sharper: lit. ‘an eagle’); bolador (thought to be derived from the French voleur); comendadores de bola (thieves who work principally at fairs and markets); gerifalte (lit. ‘a gerfalcon’—one of the ‘hawk’ species); lince (lit. ‘a lynx.’ This class of thief varies robbery with begging); piloto (a thief who directs others to the place of rendezvous, i.e., where a robbery has been planned; lit. ‘a pilot’); trabajar (lit. ‘a traveller’).—See Thieves. Portuguese Synonyms (Calão). Pai (a captain of thieves—an Aaron or arch-cove); maguino (a highwayman). For exhaustive and comparative description of all classes of thieves, both English and foreign, see Thieves—their names and methods. Arf, adj. (vulgarism).—Half; e.g., ‘’arf an ’our,’ i.e., half an hour. ’Arf and ’arf.—See Four-half. Argal.—See Argol-bargol. Argol-Bargol, subs. and verb. (old).—Argol, sometimes argal, is a corrupt pronunciation of Latin ergo, therefore; hence, from that word being frequently used in conversation, a clumsy, unsound piece of reasoning or cavilling; and verbally, to bandy words. Hotten says argol-bargol is Scotch, but argal is found in Hamlet, v. i., and the fuller form is probably onomatopoetic like ‘shilly-shally,’ ‘hocus-pocus,’ etc., unless it comes from the Hebrew through the Yiddish bar-len ‘to talk or speak’ [anyhow]. 1596. Shakspear, Hamlet v. i., 21., 1st Clown. Here lies the water; good: here stands the man; good: If the man go to this water, it is, will he, nil he, he goes; mark you that: but if the water come to him, he drowns not himself: argal, he that is not guilty of his own death, shortens not his own life. 1823. J. Galt, The Entail, i., 53. ‘Weel, weel,’ said the laird, ‘dinna let us argol-bargol about it; entail your own property as ye will, mine shall be on the second son.’ 1861. Times, 23 Aug. Mr. Buckle’s argument [is] as absurd an argal as ever was invented by philosopher or gravedigger. [M.] Argol-Bargolous, adj. (old).—Quarrelsome.—See Argol-bargol. 1822. J. Galt, The Provost, p. 194. No doubt his argol-bargolous disposition was an inheritance accumulated with his other conquest of wealth from the mannerless Yankees. Argufy, verb. (vulgar).—A corrupted form of ‘to argue,’ usually associated with cavilling or a bandying of words; also, ‘to signify’; e.g., ‘It doesn’t much argufy.’ 1758. A. Murphy, The Upholsterer, Act i. Well, it does not signify argifying. 1837. Lytton, Ernest Maltravers, bk. IV., ch. vii. ‘Lord! how I should like to have you on the roadside instead of within these four gimcrack walls. Ha! ha! the argufying would be all in my favour then.’ Aristippus, subs. (old).—1. A diet drink or decoction of sarsaparilla and other drugs, sold at the coffee-houses, and drank as tea.—Grose. 2. Also a cant name for canary wine. 1627. (circa) Middleton, Wks. (Halliwell), II., 422. Rich aristippus, sparkling sherry. Arkansas Toothpick, subs. (American).—A grimly facetious name for a folding bowie knife of large dimensions. 1854. Sir Theo. Martin (with Prof. Aytoun), Bon Gaultier Ballads. ‘Straightway leaped the valiant Slingby Into armor of Seville, With a strong Arkansas toothpick, Screwed in every joint of steel.’ 1881. A. B. Greenleaf, Ten Years in Texas, p. 27. All these (men) irrespective of age, size, or condition in life, could be seen with a Navy six-shooter and an Arkansas toothpick suspended to a raw-hide belt tucked around their waists. Supplement the above equipment with a sore-backed mustang pony, an old army saddle-tree and rope bridle, and you have an exact picture and entire possession of the fifteenth constitutional amendment. 1888. Detroit Free Press, Aug. It is not good form to use a toothpick in Arkansas now. A big revolver is the thing in the best society. For synonyms, see Chive. Ark-Floater, subs. (theatrical).—An actor well advanced in years. [From an allusion to the proverbial saying concerning anything ancient, ‘He, or it, must have come out of Noah’s ark,’ + floats, the footlights.] Arkman, subs. (old).—A Thames waterman. Cf., Ackman. Ark-Ruff, or Ark-Ruffian.—The same as ack-man (q.v.). Armour. To be in armour, verb. phr. (old).—To be pot-valiant; ‘primed’; full of Dutch courage.—See Screwed. Armpits. To work under the armpits, verb. phr. (old).—To sail so far to the windward of the law in petty larceny, that, if caught and tried, the punishment would not amount to more than transportation. On the passing of Sir Samuel Romilly’s Act, capital punishment was abolished for highway robberies under 40s. in value. Hence, formerly, to work under the armpits was to avoid the halter or neck-squeezer (q.v.), which is applied above the armpits. Arm-Props, subs. (common).—Crutches; otherwise wooden legs (q.v.). 1825. W. T. Moncrieff, Tom and Jerry, Act ii., Scene 6. Beggar: You did quite right; vell, vile I can get fifteen bob a day by gammoning a maim, the devil may vork for me. If any lady or gemman is inclined for a dance, I’ll nash my arm-props in a minute. (Throws down his crutches.) Arms and Legs, subs. phr. (common).—Poor, weak beer, because there is no body in it!—See Swipes. Armstrong. To come Captain Armstrong.—See Captain Armstrong. Arrow (vulgarism).—A corruption of ‘e’er, a,’ or ‘ever a.’ 1750. Fielding, Tom Jones, bk. V., ch. viii. ‘I don’t believe there is arrow a servant in the house ever saw the colour of his money.’ 1771. Smollett, Humphrey Clinker, i., 126. ‘I now carries my head higher than arrow private gentlewoman of Vales.’ ’Arry, subs. (common).—The Christian name Harry without the aspirate. A popular embodiment of the vulgar, rollicking, yet on the whole good-tempered ‘rough’ of the great metropolis. His ‘get-up’ is, as he would himself put it, ‘immense’; he is seen to most advantage—his own—on Sundays and bank holidays; his ‘young woman’—generally ‘’Arriet’—is en suite; taken altogether he is a lively, jovial, but ill-bred ‘cuss.’ Mr. Punch in an inimitable series of sketches has ‘hit off’ his man ‘to a T.’ 1880. Millikin, Punch’s Almanac. January! Tailor’s bill comes in. Blow that blooming snip! I’m short of tin. Werry much enjoyed my autumn Caper, But three quid fifteen do look queer paper. Want another new rig out, wuss luck, Gurl at Boodle’s bar seems awful struck. Like to take her to pantermime; That and oysters after would be prime. Fan’s a screamer; this top coat would blue it, Yaller at the seams, black ink wont do it. Wonder if old snip would spring another? Boots, too, rayther seedy; beastly bother! Lots o’ larks that empty pockets ‘queer.’ Can’t do much on fifty quid a year. Febrywary! High old time for sprees! Now’s yer chance the gals to please or tease. Dowds to guy and pooty ones’ to wheedle, And give all rival chaps the needle. Crab your enemies,—I’ve got a many, You can pot ’em proper for a penny. My! them walentines do ’it ’em ’ot. First-rate fun: I always buy a lot. Prigs complain they’re spiteful, lor’ wot stuff! I can’t ever get ’em strong enough. Safe too; no one twigs your little spree, If you do it on the strict Q.T. If you’re spoons, a flowery one’s your plan, Mem. I sent a proper one to Fan. March! I’m nuts upon a windy day, Gurls do get in such a awful way. Petticoats yer know, and pooty feet; Hair all flying,—tell you it’s a treat. Pancake day. Don’t like ’em—flabby, tough, Rayther do a pennorth o’ plum-duff. Seediness shows up as Spring advances, Ah! the gurls do lead us pretty dances. Days a-lengthening, think I spotted Fan Casting sheep’s eyes at another man. Quarter-day, too, no more chance of tick, Fancy I shall ’ave to cut my stick. Got the doldrums dreadful, that is clear, Two d left!—must go and do a beer! April! All Fools’ Day’s a proper time, Cop old gurls and guy old buffers prime. Scissors! don’t they goggle and look blue, When you land them with a regular ‘do?’ Lor! the world would not be worth a mivvey, If there warn’t no fools to cheek and chivy. Then comes Easter. Got some coin in ’and, Trot a bonnet out and do the grand. Fan all flounce and flower; fellows mad, Heye us henvious; nuts to me, my lad. ’Ampstead! ’Ampton! Which is it to be? Fan—no flat—prefers the Crystal P. Nobby togs, high jinks, and lots o’ lotion, That’s the style to go it, I’ve a notion! May! The month o’ flowers. Spooney sell! ‘Rum ’ot with,’ is wot I likes to smell. Beats yer roses holler. A chice weed, Licks all flowers that ever run to seed. Nobby button ’oler very well, When one wants to do the ’eavy swell; Otherwise don’t care not one brass farden, For the best ever blowed in Covent Garden. Fan, though, likes ’em, costs a pretty pile, Rayther stiff, a tanner for a smile. Blued ten bob last time I took ’er out, Left my silver ticker up the spout. Women are sech sharks! If I don’t drop ’er, Guess that I shall come a hawful cropper! June! A jolly month; sech stunning weather! Fan and I have lots of outs together: Rorty on the river, sech prime ’unts, Foul the racers, run into the punts. Prime to ’ear the anglers rave and cuss, When in quiet ‘swims’ we raise a muss. Snack on someone’s lawn upon the quiet, Won’t the owner raise a tidy riot When he twigs our scraps and broken bottles? Cheaper this than rusty-rongs or hottles. Whitsuntide ’ud be a lot more gay If it warn’t so near to Quarter-day. Snip turns sour, pulls ‘county-courting’ faces, Must try and land a little on the races. At July! just nicked a handy fiver, (Twenty-five to one on old ‘Screw-driver’!) New rig-out. This mustard colour mixture Suits me nobly. Fan appears a fixture. Gurls like style, you know, and colour ketches ’em, But good show of ochre,—that’s what fetches ’em. Wimbledon! I’m not a wolunteer, Discipline don’t suit this child—no fear! But we ’ave fine capers at the camp, Proper, but for that confounded scamp: Punched my ’ead, because I guyed his shooting. Fan I fancied rather ’igh faluting; Ogled the big beggar as he propped me, Would ’a licked ’im if she ’adn’t stopped me. August! Time to think about my outing. No dibs yet, though, so it’s no use shouting. Make the best of the Bank ’Oliday. Fan ‘engaged’! Don’t look too bloomin’ gay. Drop into the bar to do a beer. Twig her talking to that volunteer. Sling my ’ook instanter sharp and short, Took Jemimer down to ’Ampton Court, Not ’arf bad that gurl. Got rather screwed, Little toff complained as I was rude. ’It ’im in the wind, he went like death; Weak, consumptive cove and short o’ breath. Licked ’im proper, dropped ’im like a shot’— Only wish that Fan had seen that lot. ’Ere’s September! ’Oliday at last! Off to Margit—mean to go it fast. Mustard-coloured togs still fresh as paint, Like to know who’s natty, if I ain’t. Got three quid; have cried a go with Fan, Game to spend my money like a man. But stickin’ tight to one gal ain’t no fun,— Here’s no end of prime ’uns on the run Carn’t resist me somehow, togs and tile All A1—make even swell ones smile. Lor! if I’d the ochre, make no doubt I could cut no end of big pots out. Call me cad? When money’s in the game, Cad and swell are pooty much the same. Now October! Back again to collar, Funds run low, reduced to last ’arf dollar. Snip on rampage, boots a getting thin, ’Ave to try the turf to raise some tin. Evenings getting gloomy; high old games; Music ’alls look up the taking names. Proper swells them pros! If I’d had my choice, There’s my mark. Just wish I’d got a voice; Cut the old den to-morrow, lots o’cham, Cabs and diamonds—ain’t that real jam? Got the straight tip for the Siezerwitch, If I honly land it, I’ll be rich. Guess next mornin’ wouldn’t find me sober— Allays get the blues about October. Dull November! Didn’t land that lot. Fear my father’s son is going to pot. Fan jest passed me, turned away ’er eyes, Guess she ranked me with the other guys. Nobby larks upon the Ninth, my joker But it queers a chap to want the ochre. Nothing like a crowd for regular sprees, Ain’t it fine to do a rush, and squeeze? Twig the women fainting! oh, it’s proper! Bonnet buffers when the blooming copper Can’t get near yer nohow. Then the fogs! Rare old time for regular jolly dogs. If a chap’s a genuine ’ot member, He can keep the game up in November! Dun December! Dismal, dingy, dirty. Still short commons—makes a chap feel shirty. Snip rampageous, drops a regular summons. Fan gets married; ah! them gurls is rum ’uns! After all the coin I squandered on ’er! Want it now. A ’eap too bad, ’pon honour. Snow! ah, that’s yer sort though, and no error, Treat to twig the women scud in terror. Hot ’un in the eye for that old feller; Cold ’un down ’is neck, burst his umbreller. Ha! ha! then Christmas,—’ave a jolly feast! The Boss will drop a tip,—’ope so, at least. If I don’t land some tin, my look-out’s queer. Well, let’s drink, boys—‘Better luck next year!’ Arse, subs. (low).—The posterior; the breech; the fundament. Once in polite use, but now considered very vulgar. As Grose in his Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue [1785] prints the word thus, ‘a—e,’ it is evident that it had then fallen into disfavour. Murray traces the word back to about A.D. 1000. [A.S., ears, œurs; Icelandic and Swedish, ars; Danish, arts, and German, arsch]. 1000 (circa). Ælfric, Glossary in Wright, 44·2 [Nates, ears-lye]. [M.] 1480. Caxton, Chronicles of England, ccxxvi., 233. They lete hange fox tailles ... to hele and hyde her arses. 1663. Butler, Hudibras I., iii., 964. Then mounted both upon their Horses, But with their Faces to the arses. [M.] 1704. Swift, Battle of the Books (1711), 235. Do you think I have nothing else to do but to mend and repair after your arse [i.e., behind you, in your rear]. Heavy-arse, a hulking, lazy fellow; a sluggard. 1530. Palsgrave, 436, 2. What up, heavy-arse, cannest thou nat aryse? [M.] To hang the arse, to hang or hold back; to be afraid to advance. 1633. Massinger, Guardian, V., v. Nay, no hanging an arse. [M.] Arse-upwards in good luck. 1600 (circa). Timon I., 5 (1842), 20. This man this daye rose with his arse upwards: To daye a fidler, and at night a noble. Also such forms as arse-board, the tail board of a cart—this is still dialectical; arse-gut, the rectum; arse-long; arse-push, a heavy backward fall; arse-ropes, the intestines. Arse-Cooler, subs. (low).—A bustle or dress-improver. [From arse, see preceding + cooler; in reference to the manner in which this article of feminine attire extends the dress, and prevents it clinging to the part of the body referred to.] For synonyms, see Bird-cage. Ars-Musica, subs. (low).—The podex when used as a noisy vent.—A play upon words. Arst (vulgarism).—A mispronunciation of ‘asked.’ Arsy-Varsy or Arsy-Versy, adv. and adj. (low).—Topsy-turvy; topside t’other way; heels over head; or ‘the cart before the horse.’ [From arse + Latin versus ‘to turn,’ following model onomatopoetic compounds like ‘hirdie-girdie,’ ‘higgledy-piggledy,’ etc.] Once in polite use, but now confined to the low and vulgar. 1539. Taverner, Erasm. Prov. (1552), 62. Ye set the cart before the horse ... cleane contrarily, and arsy-versy as they say. 1728. Bailey, Dictionary. Arsy-versey, topsy-turvy, preposterously, perversely, without order. Still dialectical. See English Dialect Society’s Glossaries, e.g., West Somerset Word Book. Arter (vulgarism).—An incorrect pronunciation of ‘after.’ Artesian, subs. (Australian).—In Gippsland, Victoria, a well-known and popular brew of beer is manufactured with water obtained from an artesian well at Sale—and hence artesian as a common nickname for all Colonial beer.—See also Cascade. English synonyms for beer will be found under Swipes. Artful Dodger, subs. (rhyming and thieves’ slang).—1. A lodger. 1881. New York Slang Dictionary. Artful dodgers, fellows who dare not sleep twice in the same place for fear of arrest. 2. An expert thief. The artful dodger in Dickens’ ‘Oliver Twist’ will occur to mind in this connection. Arthur. King Arthur (old).—A sailor’s game, thus described, in effect, by Grose. When near the line, or in a hot latitude, a man who is to represent King Arthur, is ridiculously dressed, having a large wig made out of oakum, or some old swabs. He is seated on the side, or over a large vessel of water, and every person in turn is ceremoniously introduced to him, and has to pour a bucket of water over him, crying out, ‘Hail, King Arthur!’ If during the ceremony the person introduced laughs or smiles (to which his majesty endeavours to excite him by all sorts of ridiculous gesticulations), he changes places with, and then becomes King Arthur, till relieved by some brother tar who has as little command over his muscles as himself.—See also Ambassador. Artichoke, subs. (American thieves’).—An aged prostitute of the lowest type. For general synonyms, see Barrack hack. Article, subs. (popular).—1. A term of contempt for a worthless or insignificant person or animal—‘A pretty article he is.’ 1843. Dickens, Martin Chuzzlewit, ch. xxvi., p. 268. You’re a nice article, to turn sulky on first coming home! 2. A woman. In this sense generally current at the beginning of the century—‘a prime article,’ a handsome girl, or, as the Lexicon Balatronicum [1811] has it, ‘a hell of a goer.’ 1857. A. Trollope, Three Clerks, ch. xxxi. ‘She’d never have done for you, you know; and she’s the very article for such a man as Peppermint.’ See also Sappy for English and foreign synonyms. Articles, subs. (thieves’).—A suit of clothes. Formerly current in England [circa 1780–1825]; now surviving principally amongst American thieves. Articles of Virtue, subs. phr. (popular).—Virgins. A play upon the word ‘virtue,’ in allusion to the absence of defloration; and also upon vertu in its special English usage. Artist, subs. (American thieves’).—An adroit rogue; a skilful gamester.—N.Y.S.D. As ... as They Make ’Em, phr. (common).—Generally employed with such adjectives as ‘hot,’ ‘drunk,’ ‘bad,’ etc.; e.g., as bad as they make ’em. 1889. Bird o’ Freedom, Aug. 17, p. 3. On reaching the party it was evident that one of the Frenchmen was, not to put too fine a point on it, about as drunk as they make ’em. He opened the campaign by asking us to have a drink with him. Of course, he spoke in French. Asia Minor, subs. (popular).—The Kensington and Bayswater districts in London, on account of the many Anglo-Indians who, on their retirement, take refuge therein. The nickname, however, is a double-barrelled one, inasmuch as this quarter is also the headquarters of the Greek community in the metropolis. Sobriquets of the kind are not infrequent. The district between Maida Vale and St. Peter’s Park, Paddington, is called ‘the New Jerusalem,’ because of the large number of Jews who live there; and the same reason has given an exactly identical appellation to Brighton, while Cheltenham is nicknamed ‘the Black Hole’ from its numerous Anglo-Indian residents. A sketch appeared under the title of ‘The Ladies in Parliament’ in Macmillan’s Magazine [Nov., 1866], wherein Tyburnia was described as ‘the pension’d Indian’s undisturbed retreat.’ 1888. Daily News, 9 Feb., p. 2, col. 5. The Ladbroke Hall, Notting-hill ... is in the centre of a district where Indians in the British metropolis mostly congregate, a circumstance which has acquired for this part of London the nickname of Asia Minor, by which it is sometimes called. Ask Bogy! phr. (old nautical slang).—An evasive reply. Askew, subs. (old cant).—A cuppe.—Harman [1567]. Asquirm.—See Squirm. 1866. W. D. Howells, Venetian Life, ch. xviii. It is wet and slimy underfoot, and the innumerable gigantic eels, writhing everywhere, set the soul asquirm. Ass, subs. (printers’).—A compositor, so nicknamed by pressmen, who, in turn, are called pigs (q.v.). Ass is sometimes varied by donkey. In French printing offices compositors are called mulets, i.e., ‘mules.’ Assay It! intj. (American thieves’).—Commence! try it! Obviously from the verb ‘to assay,’ and probably introduced by counterfeit coiners. Assig., subs. (old).—An assignation.—Grose. Aste, subs. (old cant).—Nares quotes this as an old cant term for money. For modern synonyms, see Actual. 1612. The Passenger of Benvenuto. These companions, who in the phisionomie of their forehead, eyes, and nose, carry the impression and marke of the pillerie galley, and of the halter, they call the purse a leafe, and a fleece; money, cuckoes, and aste, and crowns. Astronomer, subs. (old).—A horse which carries its head high. Athanasian Wench, subs. (old).—A forward, abandoned woman, of obliging disposition—one who practises prostitution from libidinous desire rather than for gain. Also Quicunque vult. For synonyms, see Barrack hack. Atlantic-Ranger, subs. (common).—A herring. The derivation is too obvious to need particularization. 1883. Good Words, p. 378. Peas-pudding, and hard-boiled eggs, rubbing shoulders, as it were, with Atlantic rangers (i.e., red herrings). Among other curious synonyms for this fish may be mentioned Billingsgate pheasant; two-eyed steak; Yarmouth capon; sea rover; and Glasgow magistrate, all of which see. A very common request at Lockhart’s coffee-houses in London is for ‘a door step and a sea rover,’ i.e., a halfpenny slice of bread and butter and a herring. Atmosphere, subs. (American).—By the atmosphere of a thing, whether book, church, or individual, is meant its tone or influence. Atmosphere is one of the most recent introductions into the canting-slang phraseology of ‘Culchaw, don’t you know!’ It belongs to the same category as that which employs awfully and dreadfully for ‘very’; or lovely for anything pleasing, etc. The number of legitimate words perverted from their legitimate meanings and used in senses oftentimes ludicrous is much larger than most people would care to admit. Atomy, subs. (familiar).—1. A diminutive, or deformed person. [From a jocular pronunciation of ‘anatomy.’] As will be seen from the historical examples which follow, this expression has been in the mouths of the English people for at least 300 years. 1595. Shakspeare, Romeo and Juliet, iv., i., 57. ... I see, Queen Mab hath been with you. She is the fairies’ midwife; and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate-stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies, Athwart men’s noses as they fall asleep. 1598. Shakspeare, 2 Henry IV., v., 4, 33. Host. Thou atomy, thou! Dot. Come, you thin thing, come, you rascal. 1822. Scott, The Fortunes of Nigel, ch. iii. ‘He was an atomy when he came up from the North, and I am sure he died ... at twenty stone weight.’ 1866. Sala, Gaslight and Daylight, ch. ix. A miserable little atomy, more deformed, more diminutive, more mutilated than any beggar in a bowl. 1884. Cornhill Magazine, May, p. 478. ‘And atomy scarecrow and atomy, what next will you call me? Yet you want to marry me!’ 1886. Miss Braddon, Mohawks, ch. xxii. ‘How lovely his young wife looks to-night; lovely enough to keep that poor old atomy in perpetual torment.’ 2. (American thieves’).—Amongst the fraternity atomy has the special meaning of an empty-headed person, and not necessarily one deformed or of small, mean stature. For synonyms, in first sense, see Sappy. Attack, verb. (common).—A jocular rendering of the legitimate word; to commence operations, not necessarily, however, with the idea of force, which is always associated with the proper usage. Also as a subs. 1812. Combe (Dr. Syntax), Pictur. xvii., 62. The Doctor then ... pronounced the grace ... The fierce attack was soon begun. 1849. Thackeray, Pendennis, ch. i. It was a double letter, and the Major commenced perusing the envelope before he attacked the inner epistle. At That, adv. phr. (American and Australian).—An intensitive phrase tacked on to the end of an assertion or statement already made. ‘He’s a slick ’cute rascal, and a pretty demon at that,’ i.e., he is a rascal of rascals, an adept at villainy. It is a purely cant phrase, and has achieved a degree of popularity quite out of proportion to its merits—if any. Proctor suggests that the expression is an abbreviation of ‘added to that,’ but others regard it as the German dazu, a theory which is not improbable, in view of the large German element in the States. 1882. Pinkerton’s Mollie Maguires and Detectives. A miner from Wadesville, was spoken of as an ancient Mollie—Cooney being actually what the detective assumed to be, and a sharp one at that. 1888. Forest and Stream, March 15. Worth a year’s subscription, and cheap at that. 1888. New York Herald, July 22. Who would have supposed that the self-contained Mr. French, the icily regular T. Henry French, with a disposition as undemonstrative as the Alpine edelweiss, would suffer his temper to go away because of the loss of a hat—aye, and of an old hat at that. Attic or Attic-Storey, subs. (common).—The head, from its being the highest or crowning member, the body being figuratively regarded as a house. Sometimes upper-storey. For synonyms, see Crumpet. 1870. Alford, in Life (1873), 467. Tolerably well all day, but the noise in the attic unremoved. Queer in the attic, etc. Drunk; also weak-minded, or ‘cracked.’ Attic-Salt, subs. (literary).—Well-turned phrases spiced with wit and humour. A reference to the peculiar style and idiom of the Greek language as used by the Athenians, and, says Hotten, ‘partly a sly hit at the well-known poverty of many writers.’ Whether so, or not, the phrase is one of long standing. 1748. T. Dyche, Dictionary (5 ed.) In Philology, we say attic-salt, for a delicate, poignant kind of wit and humour after the Athenian manner, who were particular in this way. 1779. Sheridan, The Critic, Act i., Sc. 2. I have the plot from the author, and only add—characters strongly drawn—highly coloured—hand of a master—fund of genuine humour—mine of invention—neat dialogue—attic-salt. 1848. Jas. Hannay, King Dobbs, ch. ix., p. 129 (1856). ‘If you joke in that style, we’ll lose the day,’ said Dobbs, who had some quiet homely superstitions. ‘What? is it unlucky to spill attic-salt, as well as the ordinary kind?’ Attleborough, subs. (American).—Sham jewelry; used in precisely the same manner as ‘Brummagem,’ and as widely applied to men and things. It has passed from the classics of thiefdom into general use, and is applied to anything of a sham, pinchbeck, insincere, or doubtful character. Attleborough is a town celebrated for its manufacture of trashy jewelry. Attorney, subs. (popular).—A drumstick of goose, or turkey, grilled and devilled. [From devil = a lawyer who does routine work for another = attorney.] 1828. G. Griffin, Collegians, ch. xiii. ‘I love a plain beef steak before a grilled attorney.’ (Thieves’).—A shrewd, and often not over honest or scrupulous man who, possessing some knowledge of the law, acts in the capacity of legal adviser to those of the ‘crooked craft’ unfortunate enough to need assistance. Such men are generally solicitors and others whose names have been struck off the rolls, as also, occasionally, solicitors’ clerks who have otherwise failed in life. Their practices are shady, but their fees are low. Attorney-General’s Devil.—See Devil. Auctioneer. To tip or give the auctioneer.—A phrase borrowed from the sale room, and signifying ‘to knock a man down.’ 1863. G. A. Sala, Breakfast in Bed, Essay I., p. 4 (1864). And who, in return for a craven blow, can deliver the auctioneer well over the face and eyes. Audit-Ale, subs. (Cambridge Univ.).—A special brew of ale, peculiar to Trinity College, made in the first instance for draught on audit days, whence its name. 1837. Barham, Ingoldsby Legends (Lay of S. Dunstan). To be sure the best beer Of all did not appear, For I’ve said ’twas in June, and so late in the year The ‘Trinity audit ale’ is not come-at-able, As I’ve found to my great grief when dining at that table. 1876. Trevelyan, Life of Macaulay (1884), ch. iv., p. 127. A glass of the audit ale, which reminded him that he was still a fellow of Trinity. Audley.—See John Audley. Aufe.—See Oaf. Auger, subs. (American thieves’).—A person given to prosiness is so called; a bore. Aught, subs. (vulgarism).—A common illiteracy for ‘naught’ when naming the cipher—‘o’. Auld Hornie, subs. (common).—One of the numerous nicknames given to the devil. Others are, old nick; old scratch; old Harry; skipper; old gentleman; deuce; dickens; ruffian, etc.—See Skipper for synonyms. Auld Reekie (popular).—A sobriquet for the old town of Edinburgh. It means ‘old smoky.’ Of late years it has been applied to the whole city. 1806. Miss Pitman, in C. K. Sharpe’s Correspondence (1888), i., 271. We are within two hours-and-a-half of Auld Reeky. 1816. Scott, Antiquary, ch. vi. ‘And what news do you bring us from Edinburgh, Monkbarns?’ said Sir Arthur; ‘how wags the world in Auld Reekie?’ 1889. Colonies and India, July 24, p. 10, col. 1. The Australasian Colony in Auld Reekie is prospering apace, and it may soon be necessary to plant some gum trees along Princes Street to meet the growing demands of the population. Auly-Auly, subs. (Win. Coll.).—A game formerly played in ‘Grass Court’ on Saturday afternoons after chapel. It consisted in throwing an india-rubber ball at one another, and everybody was obliged to go down and join in it. ‘Haul ye, call ye,’ is the supposed derivation; but, as the game, though in vogue in 1830, was not played as late as 1845, there is some difficulty in defining it in detail. Aunt, subs. (old).—Applied, especially during the Elizabethan period, to either a procuress, a prostitute, or a concubine. It survived till the commencement of the present century and then gradually died out. For synonyms, see Mother. 1608. Middleton, Trick to Catch the Old One, II., i. Was it not then better bestowed upon his uncle than upon one of his aunts?—I need not say bawd, for everyone knows what aunt stands for in the last translation. 1623. Shakspear, Winter’s Tale, iv., 3. Summer songs for me and my aunts, While we lie tumbling in the hay. To go and see one’s aunt (common).—To go to the W.C.—See Mrs. Jones. Aunt Sally, subs. (familiar).—A well-known game, common to race-courses and fairs, which consists in throwing short staves at a wooden head mounted on a stick, placed upright in the ground, and forming a kind of target. In the mouth of the image is placed a clay pipe, and the object of the player, who stands at say twenty or thirty yards distance, is to demolish this. The amusement is not unlike the more popular ‘three shies a penny.’ The origin of Aunt Sally is wrapped in mystery; nor is it known whether she is any relation to the black lady whose effigy some few years since was frequently to be met with suspended outside the shops of rag and ‘marine store’ dealers. A writer in Notes and Queries [2 S., x., 117] affirms that Aunt Sally is the heroine of a popular negro melody, in which the old lady meets with several ludicrous adventures, but evidence in support of this theory is at present wanting. 1866. G. A. Sala, Gaslight and Daylight, ch. i., p. 11. They will go to Epsom by the rail, and create disturbances on the course, and among the ‘sticks’ and aunt sallies. 1883. Punch, June 2, p. 264, col. 1. The average number of ‘chucks’ at cocoa-nuts before achieving success is six, and of ‘shies’ at aunt sally, four. Au Reservoir! intj. phr. (common).—Au revoir. A mere play upon sounds. Common in America, where it originated, and now often heard in England. Australian Flag, subs. (Anglo-Australian).—The tail of a shirt, when, after exertion, it rucks up in folds between the trousers and the waistcoat—an ‘up-country’ phrase.—See Cornstalk. Australian Grip, subs. (Australian).—A hearty shake of the hands. Autem, Autum, Autom, subs. (old cant).—A church. The term first appears in Harman’s Caveat [1573]; again in Rowland’s Martin Mark-all [1610]; in Head’s English Rogue [1665]; in Cole’s English Dictionary [1724]; in Grose’s Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue [1785], and in Duncombe’s Sinks of London Laid Open [1848].—See also Autem mort. Adj.—Married. So quoted in Cole’s English Dictionary, whence autem mort, etc. Autem-Bawler, subs. (old cant).—A parson. [From autem (q.v.), a church + bawler, a speaker.] For modern English and foreign synonyms, see Gospel shark. Other ancient expressions for a clergyman are autem-jet, autem-cackler, and autem-pricker; the last two named, however, apply, as a rule, only to Dissenters. Autem-Cackler, subs. (old cant).—A Dissenter; sometimes specially applied to Dissenting ministers. 1876. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 260. ‘On one occasion a Jew was selling cocoa-nut, when the autem-cackler, i.e., Dissenting minister, came and wanted to impart to the Israelite the sin he committed in carrying on his vocation on such a day [Sunday]. The Jew half listened to what the other said, but kept on calling out “Cocoa-nut a half-penny a slice, a very nice cocoa-nut—cocoanut!”’ 2. A married woman.—See Autem. In this sense it is used in a canting song in the New York Slang Dictionary, first published in 1881, and which, as a specimen of the verse affected by the light-fingered fraternity, it may not be out of place to give entire. It should be read in connection with the remarks On canting songs (q.v.). ‘A HUNDRED STRETCHES (1) HENCE.’ ‘Oh! where will be the culls of the bing (2) A hundred stretches hence? The bene morts (3), who sweetly sing, A hundred stretches hence? The autumn-cacklers, autumn-coves (4), The jolly blade who wildly roves; And where the buffer (5), bruiser (6), blowen (7), And all the cops (8) and beaks (9) so knowin’ A hundred stretches hence? ‘And where the swag (10), so bleakly (11) pinched (12), A hundred stretches hence? The thimbles (13), slang (14), and danglers (15) filched, A hundred stretches hence? The chips (16), the fawneys (17), chatty-feeders (18), The bugs (19), the boungs (20), and well-filled readers (21); And where the fence (22) and snoozing-ken (23), With all the prigs (24) and lushing men (25), A hundred stretches hence? ‘Played out they lay, it will be said A hundred stretches hence; With shovels they were put to bed (26) A hundred stretches since! Some rubbed to wit had napped a winder (27), And some were scragged (28) and took a blinder (29), Planted the swag and lost to sight, We’ll bid them, one and all, good-night, A hundred stretches hence.’ 1, Stretch, a year; 2, culls of the bing, innkeepers, publicans; 3, bene morts, pretty girls or women; 4, autumn cove, married men; 5, buffer, smuggler, rogue, or cheat; 6, bruiser, prostitute’s bully or prize-fighter; 7, blowen, a showy prostitute; 8, cop, policeman; 9, beak, a magistrate; 10, swag, plunder, proceeds of robbery; 11, bleakly, cleverly, also handsome; 12, pinched, stolen; 13, thimble, a watch; 14, slang, a watch chain; 15, danglers, a bunch of seals; 16, chips, money; 17, fawney, a ring; 18, chatty-feeder, a spoon; 19, bug, a breast pin; 20, boung, a purse; 21, reader, a pocket-book; 22, fence, a receiver of stolen goods; 23, snoozing-ken, a brothel; 24, prig, a thief; 25, lushing-men, drinking-men; 26, put to bed with a shovel, buried; 27, to nap a winder—to nap, to cheat, winder, a life sentence; 28, scragged, hanged; 29, to take a blinder, to drown oneself. Autem Cackle Tub, subs. (old cant).—The meeting house of Dissenters of every description. Also a pulpit. Autem-Cove, subs. (old cant).—A married man. [From autem (q.v.), a church + cove, a man.] Autem-Dippers or Autem-Divers, subs. (old cant).—1. Formerly a nickname for Baptists, from their practice of immersing adult converts, as distinguished from infant sprinkling. 2. Pickpockets who practised in churches were called autem-divers; also churchwardens and overseers of the poor who defrauded, deceived, and imposed upon the parish. Autem-Goglers, subs. (old cant).—Pretended French prophets—Grose. Conjurors, fortune-tellers—Duncombe. Autem-Jet, subs. (old cant).—A parson. [From autem, a church + jet, black, in allusion to the black garments usually worn by ‘the cloth.’] For some curious synonyms, see Devil-dodger. Autem, or Autem-Mort, subs. (old cant).—A married woman, i.e., one wedded in a church. [From autem, a church + mort, or mot, a woman.] The term belongs to the oldest cant, and is the subject of a long description in Harman’s Caveat. (See quotation.) The old fraternity of vagabonds (for a full description of which, see Cadgers—ancient and modern) was divided into well marked classes, as also were the women who accompanied them in their peregrinations. The men were not strict monogamists, either as regards lawful companions or those of another grade— 1567. Harman, Caveat (1814), p. 49. These Autem Mortes be maried wemen, as there be but a fewe: For Autem in their language is a church, so shee is a wyfe maried at the church, and they be as chaste as a cowe I have, that goeth to bull eury moone, with what bull she careth not. These walke most times from their husbands companye a moneth and more to gether, being asociate with another as honest as her selfe. These wyll pylfar clothes of hedges; some of them go with children of ten or xii years of age; yf tyme and place serue for their purpose, they will send them into some house, at the window, to steale and robbe, which they call in their language, Milling of the ken; and wil go with wallets on their shoulders, and slates at their backes. There is one of these Autem Mortes, she is now a widow, of fyfty yeres old; her name is Alice Milson: she goeth about with a couple of great boyes, the youngest of them is fast Upon xx yeares of age.... 1592. Greene, Quip, in works IX., 283. The pedler as bad or rather worse, walketh the country with his docksey at the least, if he have not two, his mortes dels, and Autem Mortis. 1610. Rowlands, Martin Mark-all, p. 7 (H. Club’s Reprint, 1874). Here another [complains] that they could not quietly take their rest in the night, nor keepe his autem, or doxie sole vnto himselfe. 1834. H. Ainsworth, Rookwood, bk. III., ch. v. Morts, autem-morts, walking morts, dells, doxies with all the shades and grades of the canting crew, were assembled. Toward the end of the eighteenth century autem-mort was used as synonymous with a female beggar alone; then another meaning crept into the word—a prostitute.—See Cadger. Autem-Prickear.—The same as autem-cackler (q.v.). Autem-Quaver, subs. (old cant).—A Quaker. [From autem, a church + quaver, referring to the shaking, peculiar to some of the religious exercises of the Society of Friends.] Autem-Quaver-Tub, subs. (old cant).—A Quaker’s meeting-house; also a desk therein. Author-Baiting, subs. (theatrical).—Calling the author of an unsuccessful play before the curtain, and then, wanting all sense of decency and feeling, to overwhelm him with every imaginable source of annoyance—yelling, hooting, bellowing, etc. Avast! intj. (nautical).—Hold on! Stop! Shut up! Stow it! etc., etc. No word perhaps has more suggested derivations than avast! Webster writes it down as from the Italian basta, enough; literally, it suffices, from bastare, to suffice. He does not, however, seem to have been altogether certain, for he queries whether it is not a worn-down form of the Dutch houd vast, hou’ vast, hold fast! a derivation which Dr. Murray endorses as ‘probable’ in his New Dictionary of the English Language. Bearing in mind that avast, although used colloquially is first and foremost a sailor’s term, this derivation does not seem far-fetched; for, the Dutch having been themselves one of the great maritime nations of the past, it is not unlikely that the term should have come from them, especially when it is borne in mind that a large proportion of nautical terms are so derived. Such are boom; sprit; reef; schooner; skate; sloop; stiver; taffrail; yacht (jaghten, ‘to chase’), etc. On the other hand, as regards the Italian basta, it is only fair to point out that French workmen use basta, in the sense of enough! no more! The same term occurs also in the Spanish. Hotten connects it with the old cant bynge a waste, get out of the way! go hence! but though one cannot speak with certainty, this is not, on the face of it, apparent. There seems no discoverable connection between the two; moreover, the comparative and historical method of dealing with slang shows us that avast in its present form and sense can be traced as far back as 1681, within about a hundred years of the publication of Harman’s Caveat where bynge a waste first occurs. The probability therefore is that the two terms are distinct, and that avast is derived from a different source to bynge a waste (q.v.) which, as Leland points out, has probably its origin in the Romany. 1681. Otway, Soldiers’ Fortune, iv., i. Hoa up, hoa up; so avast there, sir. 1748. Smollett, Rod. Random, ch. xli. ‘Avast there, friend: none of your tricks upon travellers.’ 1751. Smollett, Peregrine Pickle, ch. xcvii. ‘And upon this scrap of paper—no, avast—that’s my discharge from the parish.’ 1884. W. C. Russell, Jack’s Courtship, ch. xiv. But avast now! we’ve had enough of philosopherising. Avoirdupois-Lay, subs. (old thieves’ cant).—This is given by Grose as meaning the theft of brass weights off shop counters. Avuncular-Relation, subs. (common).—A pawnbroker—a facetious variant of uncle (q.v.), another name for the same individual. Awake, adv. (old, and modern American thieves’).—On the alert; vigilant. Cf., wide-awake, a certain kind of hat, so called, by-the-bye, from its never having a ‘nap.’ For synonyms, see Fly. 1821. Moncrieff, Tom and Jerry (Dicks’ ed., 1889), p. 6. Prime. From the cut of the gentleman’s clothes, I presume he’s lately come from the Esquimaux Islands. Tom. Ha! ha! very good, Primefit; I say, Jerry—you see he’s down upon you. Jerry. Yes, he’s up, he’s awake, he’s fly—Ha! ha! 1838. Dickens, Nich. Nickleby, ch. xxxix., p. 314. ‘If you hear the waiter coming, sir, shove it in your pocket and look out of the window, d’ye hear?’ ‘I’m awake, father,’ replied the dutiful Wackford. Awful, subs. (common).—A sensational newspaper, tale, or narration; e.g., a penny awful. Sometimes called a dreadful; other names for this kind of mental pabulum are blood and thunder tales, and gutter literature. Adj.—Generally colloquial as an intensitive, conveying no more awe-full meaning than ‘very,’ ‘exceedingly,’ etc. Strange as it may appear this familiar usage is very old, and was frequently heard north of the Tweed long prior to its use by Southrons. An intermediate stage was its appearance across the Atlantic, whence its re-introduction into the Mother Country may be traced. 1834. Lamb, Gent. Giantess, Misc. Wks. (1871), 363. She is indeed, as the Americans would express it, something awful. b. 1789, d. 1880. Planché, Good Woman in the Wood. ‘A poor widow and her orphan chicks Left without fixtures, in an awful fix.’ 1883. Hawley Smart, At Fault, III., v., 82. ‘I’m awful glad you two have made acquaintance.’ Awfully, the adverbial form, is subjected to the same ill-treatment, as the following examples will show. 1877. Punch’s Pocket Book for 1878, p. 165. You should have come with us. It’s too awfully nice, as I told you I thought it would be. 1878. M. E. Braddon, Cloven Foot, ch. vii. ‘Awfully,’ was Miss Clare’s chief laudatory adjective [sic]; her superlative form of praise was ‘quite too awfully,’ and when enthusiasm carried her beyond herself she called things ‘nice.’ ‘Quite too awfully nice,’ was her maximum of rapture. 1889. Illustrated Bits, July 13. An Old Proverb Twisted. ‘The ham of the sandwich was awfully tough,’ He said, for, oh, it was dry, As at first he tried to bite into the stuff, All in vain, how hard he would try. But at last, when fairly bit into the thing, He found that it was all right, And he said, as happy as any king, ‘The bark was worse than the bite.’ French equivalents are, bigrement; jusqu’à la troisième capucine; and pommé. Awkward-Squad, subs. (military and naval).—Recruits when commencing to learn their drill. Ax, Axe, verb. (vulgar).—To ask. Though now looked upon as a vulgarism, ax is still largely dialectical, and is really the most correct form of the word. ‘Ask’ is the northern gloss which has gradually supplanted ax. The latter, down to nearly 1600, says Dr. Murray, was the regular literary form. c. 1380. Chaucer, Tale of Melibeus. Seint Jame eck saith: If eny fellow have neede of sapiens, axe it of God. 1474. Caxton, Game of the Chesse, bk. III., ch. viii. He must nedes begge and axe his breed. 1758. A. Murphy, The Upholsterer, Act i. An old crazy fool—axing your pardon, ma’am, for calling your father so. 1763. Foote, Mayor of Garratt, Act ii., Sc. 2. Mrs. Sneak. Where is the puppy? Sneak. Yes, yes, she is axing for me. 1861. H. Kingsley, Ravenshoe, ch. vi. ‘I axed her would she like to live in the great house, and she said no.’ 1883. Echo, Jan. 25, p. 2, col. 3. To axe, considered but a vulgarism, for to ask, is good Saxon. Axe. An axe to grind, phr. (American).—A much-used phrase of political origin. Men are said to have axes to grind when suspected of selfish or interested motives. From politics the expression has passed into use among all classes of society. The Chicago Daily Inter-Ocean (Feb. 1888) spoke of certain politicians as ‘men with axes to grind.’ What we believe is right is more often so because it grinds our axe than otherwise. 1871. (From Hoppe’s Conversations Lexicon). Miner. ‘Who’ll turn the grindstones?’ When I see a merchant over-polite to his customers, begging them to taste a little brandy, and throwing half his goods on the counter, thinks I, that man has an axe to grind. 1888. Detroit Free Press, Sept. 22. William Black, the novelist, says the only ax a novelist has to grind is the climax. Axe-My-Eye! subs. (cheap jacks’).—One who is up to every trick; a cute fellow. 1876. C. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 232. Stow your gab and gauffery, To every fakement I’m a fly; I never takes no fluffery, For I’m a regular axe-my-eye. Ayrshires, subs. (Stock Exchange).—Glasgow and South-Western Railway Stock. B B Not to know b from a battledore, phr. (old).—To be entirely illiterate; very ignorant. This old cant phrase has several variants, all of them alliterative in character. For example, not to know b from a bull’s-foot—from a broomstick—chalk from cheese, etc. Each and all indicate inability to distinguish between familiar objects that differ. Battledore is an old name for the hornbook from which children used to learn the alphabet. 1401. Pol. Poems, II., 57. I know not an a from the wynd-mylne, ne a b from a bole foot. [M.] 1609. Dekker, Guls-Hornebooke, 3. You shall not neede to buy bookes; no, scorne to distinguish a b from a battledore; onely looke that your eares be long enough to reach our rudiments, and you are made for ever. 1846. Brackenridge, Modern Chivalry, 43. There were members who scarcely knew b from a bull’s-foot. [M.] B (fenian).—Mr. H. J. Byron, the playwright, in his annotated copy of the Slang Dictionary, mentions this as the title of a captain in the ‘army of the Irish Republican Brotherhood.’ B’s.—See B flat. Babe, subs. (parliamentary).—The last elected member of the House of Commons. The oldest representative of the chamber is called the father of the house (q.v.). (American).—The youngest member of a class at the United States Military College at West Point. A term sans wit, sans point, sans almost everything. Babe in the Wood, subs. phr. (old).—1. A victim of the law’s solicitude; in other words, a culprit sentenced to the stocks or the pillory. Obsolete. 2. Dice are also called babes in the wood. Babes, subs. (auctioneers’).—A set of auction thieves, who attend sales for the express purpose of blackmail. Their modus operandi is as follows. In consideration of a small bribe of money or beer, or both, they agree not to oppose the bidding of the larger dealers, who thus dishonestly keep down the price of lots. The practice is generally worked in connection with knock-outs (q.v.). (American).—A set of Baltimore rowdies are so-called; at various times they have also received the names of blood tubs and plug-uglies (q.v.). Baboo-English, subs. (Anglo-Indian).—A species of ‘English as she is wrote’ (q.v.). Its main peculiarity is its grandiloquence, a feature born of an attempt to adapt Western speech to Eastern imagery and hyperbole. Baby-Herder, subs. (American).—A nurse; a simile drawn from life on the plains, and worked out with true cowboy humour. Babylonitish, subs. (Winchester College).—A dressing gown. An abbreviated form of ‘Babylonitish garment.’ Baby-Pap, subs. (thieves’).—A cap; part of the so-called rhyming slang (q.v.). Bacca.—See Baccy. Bacca-Pipes, subs. (common).—Whiskers when curled in ringlets, a now obsolete fashion.—See Mutton-chops. Baccare! Backare! intj. (old cant).—Go back! [a humorous form of back + a simulated Latin termination]. In use from about 1553–1660. 1592. Lyly, Midas, V., 2. The masculine gender is more worthy than the feminine. Therefore, Licio. backare. 1593. Shakspeare, Taming of the Shrew, ii.; Saving your tale, Petruchio, I pray Let us, that are poor petitioners, speak too; Baccare! you are marvellous forward. [N.] Baccy, also Bacca, subs. (common).—A corrupted form of ‘tobacco.’ Apparently of quite recent introduction. An equivalent term in French is perlot, from perle. 1833. Marryat, Peter Simple, ch. ii. ‘You must larn to chaw baccy.’ 1861. Jas. Conway, Forays among Salmon and Deer, p. 228. I lay on an Affghan goat-rug spread over fresh heather, with a pipe filled with good baccy in my mouth. Bach or Batch, verb. (American).—To live as a bachelor. Bachelor’s Baby, subs. (old).—An illegitimate child. For synonyms, see Bye-blow. Bachelors-Fare, subs. (familiar).—Bread and cheese and kisses—a humorous allusion to the real or alleged ‘short commons,’ generally assumed to be meted out to a man who is unattached. Like many other proverbial sayings there is more sound than truth in it. 1738. Swift, Polite Conversation, conv. i. Lady Ans. Colonel, some ladies of your acquaintance have promised to breakfast with you, and I am to wait on them; what will you give us? Col. Why, faith, madam, bachelor’s-fare, bread and cheese and kisses. Back, verb. (popular).—To bet or wager; to support by means of money, kind, or influence, on the turf or elsewhere. From the earlier and more legitimate meaning to support, maintain, or strengthen. Possibly in the sense of to wager or support by betting, back can hardly nowadays be classed as slang; there seems too, to be long and constant usage to support its claim as a regular dictionary word. (Uppingham School).—At football, to be ready for a chance. To put or set up one’s back, phr. (familiar).—To rouse oneself to antipathy; to get angry; to resist. The figure presented is that of a cat, which, when irritated, arches or sets up its back. Also used negatively as an exhortation to keep one’s temper. Don’t get your back up! For synonymous phrases, see Hold your hair on! 1726. Vanbrugh and Cibber, Provoked Husband, V., iii., 112. O Lud! how her back will be up then when she meets me. 1771. Smollett, Humphry Clinker, ch. 66. My uncle’s back was up in a moment; and he desired him to explain his pretensions. 1855. Thackeray, Newcomes, ch. xvi. ‘I know she is flighty, and that; and Brian’s back is up a little. But he ain’t a bad fellow; and I wish I could see you and his wife better friends.’ 1883. Greenwood, Grandmother Cooper, in Odd People in Odd Places, p 2. ‘You don’t know what you’re sayin’; therefore you don’t mean no harm. If so be you think what you just now said, keep it to yourself, don’t say it to me. It sets my back up, and when my back’s set up I’m sometimes orkard.’ To ride on one’s back, phr. (old).—To deceive successfully. Back and Belly, phr. (vulgar).—1. Back and before; all over. 2. To keep one back and belly, phr. (old).—To feed and clothe. Cf., Belly-timber and Back-timber. Back-Breaker, subs. (common).—One who sets, or that which is, an example of more than ordinary human powers of endurance; e.g., in pedestrianism or racing a man or horse whose pace is considerably over the average. In sporting phraseology he or it is called a scorcher (q.v.) and the pace of such is also eloquently called ‘killing.’ Back-breaking is therefore synonymous with excessive exertion or effort of all kinds. Back-Cap. To give a back-cap, phr. (American).—To expose; to reveal what one knows of another, in a detrimental sense. 1883. Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi, p. 462. [A pretended converted thief is made to say]:—i told him all about my being in prison and about you, and how i had almost done giving up looking for work and how the Lord got me the job when i asked him ... and then i felt better than ever i had done in my life, for i had given Mr. Brown a fair start with me and now i didn’t fear no one giving me a back-cap and running me off the job. Back-Cheat, subs. (old cant).—A cloak. Also called a wrap-rascal (q.v.). Back-Door. A gentleman of the back-door, subs. phr. (common).—A sodomist; formerly a backgammon player. The vice itself is called back-door work. For synonyms, see Usher. Backdoor-Trot, subs. (provincial).—Diarrhœa. The allusion is obvious. A more common term is jerry-go-nimble (q.v.). Back Down, verb, (common).—To yield; to retreat from a position; to abandon a line of argument; to eat one’s words. Originally an American turn of expression.—See Back track and Back out. Subs.—Usually a square back down; a severe rebuff; sometimes, utter collapse. Backed, ppl. adj. (old).—Dead—a figurative use of to ‘put on one’s back,’ i.e., to place hors de combat. Back-End, subs. (racing).—The last two months of the racing season. More technical than slang. 1820. Blackw. Mag., Oct., p. 3. When you did me the honour to stop a day or two at last back-end. 1883. Hawley Smart, Hard Lines, ch. xxix. ‘Most of what I got over that steeplechase I dropped at the back-end over the October handicaps.’ Adj.—The meaning, mutatis mutandis, is the same as back-end. 1883. Daily Telegraph, April 30, p. 3, col. 6. And neither [horse] could beat Palermo on back-end form. Back-Gammon Player.—See Back-door. Backhand, verb. (common).—To detain the decanter when it is passed round, and thus to drink more than one’s share; a more recent phrase is ‘not drinking fair.’—See, however, Backhander. 1857. G. A. Lawrence, Guy Livingstone, ch. viii. ‘Livingstone, if you begin backhanding already, you’ll never be able to hold that great raking chestnut I saw your groom leading this evening.’ Back-Handed Turn (Stock Exchange).—An unprofitable bargain. Backhander, subs. (common).—1. A drink out of turn; also detention of wine at table so as to get an extra share. 1855. Thackery, Newcomes, ch. xliii. ‘Thank you, Mr. Binnie, I will take a backhander, as Clive don’t seem to drink.’ 1873. Saturday Review, p. 798. Long experience has shown us that to get small advantages over us gives the Scotch so much pleasure, that we should not think of grudging them the mild satisfaction, just as a kindly host affects not to notice a valued guest, who, he observes, always helps himself to an innocent backhander. 2. A blow on the face with the back of the hand. 1836. Marryat, Midshipman Easy, p. 11. ‘Go away, Sarah,’ said Johnny, with a backhander. 1862. Farrar, St. Winifred’s, ch. xxxiii. He administered a backhander to Elgood, as he spoke, and the next minute Charlie, roused beyond all bearing, had knocked him down. 1870. Mansfield, School-Life at Winchester College. The doctor comes suddenly round a corner, and finds Tibbs [a fag] mopping the rosy fluid from his nose with a rueful countenance, having just received a sharp backhander from one of his lords and masters. 3. Hence, figuratively, a rebuke; a ‘setting down.’ 1850. Whyte Melville, Kate Coventry, ch. i. I knew this was what John calls a back hander at me, but I can be so good-natured when I have anything to gain, therefore I only said ——. Backing and Filling, adj. (colloquial).—A backing and filling policy is one that is shifty; irresolute; trifling. A figurative usage derived from backing and filling a vessel, i.e., keeping it in the middle of the stream of a narrow river by advancing first to one shore, and then backing to the other, allowing the stream to make the way, the wind blowing in an opposite direction to the stream. Backing-On.—See Turning-on. Backings Up, subs. (Winchester College).—The unconsumed ends of half-burned fagots. They are collected and sometimes made into surreptitious fires by ‘Juniors.’ Back Jump, subs. (thieves’).—A back window.—See Jump. Backmarked. To be backmarked, verb. (pedestrian).—In handicapping to receive less start from ‘scratch’ than previously given—even to being put back to ‘scratch.’ Back Out, verb. (colloquial).—To retreat cautiously and tacitly; from stable phraseology; e.g., the backing out of a horse. Very much the same as to back down (q.v.). 1817. Scott, Rob Roy, ch. viii. Jobson, however, was determined that Morris should not back out of the scrape so easily. 1855. A. Trollope, The Warden, ch. xii. How was he to back out of a matter in which his name was already so publicly concerned? 1870. L. Oliphant, Piccadilly, pt. IV., p. 152. I am sure that he had done his best to spread the report of my marriage with his sister for fear of my backing out. Back Scuttle, verb. (thieves’).—The same as back-slang (q.v.). Back-Seam. To be down on one’s back-seam, phr. (tailors’).—To be down on one’s luck; to be unfortunate. Back Seat. To take a back seat, phr. (American).—Figuratively, to retire into obscurity; it also sometimes implies a silent confession of failure; an inability to accomplish what one has attempted. The colloquialism has gained a world-wide currency; it received an immense ‘send off,’ as the Americans say, from Andrew Johnson’s famous saying in 1868, that in the work of Reconstruction traitors should take back seats. 1885. Society, Feb. 7, p. 9. This great batting achievement must, however, take a back seat when compared with the enormous total recently scored by Shaw’s Eleven in Australia, against a powerful Colonial team. 1888. Daily News, Feb. 24, p. 5, col. 2. Any form of art which is barred by its very nature from perfection must take what the Americans call a back seat. 1888. Texas Siftings, p. 426. Who will say the Britishers are not a forbearing and forgiving race, and the inhabitants of Stratford-on-Avon don’t by any means take a back seat in that line? Ignatius Donnelly actually visited the birthplace of Shakespeare, and wasn’t lynched! Far from it, he was hospitably received and entertained. Back-Slum, subs. (colloquial).—The lowest and most disreputable quarters of a town or city; generally applied to the dens and rookeries of the criminal and ‘outcast’ classes. 1821. W. T. Moncrieff’s Tom and Jerry, Act ii., Scene 5. Log. Well, don’t grumble—every one must pay for his learning—and you wouldn’t bilk the schoolmaster, would you? But, come, I’m getting merry; so if you wish for a bit of good truth, come with me, and let’s have a dive among the cadgers in the back slums, in the Holy Land. Jerry. Back slums—Holy Land!—I’m at fault again. Log. Why, among the beggars in Dyot Street, St. Giles’s. Tom. Beggars! ah, we shall be very good figures for the part. (Turns out his pockets.) 1876. M. E. Braddon, Joshua Haggard’s Daughter, ch. xx. Not in fetid alleys and festering London back-slums only is man’s fight with difficulty a bitter and crushing battle. (Australian thieves’.)—A back room or entrance. Backstaircase, subs. (common).—A bustle, or ‘dress improver.’ For synonyms, see Birdcage. Backstair Influence, subs. (familiar).—Underhand dealing or persuasion; a stab in the dark; intrigue. [From the use of the back or private stairs of a palace, etc., for other than state visitors; hence, a secret mode of approach; and, attributively, applied to indirect, oblique, and unfair intrigue.] 1697. Vanbrugh, Relapse, II. He is like a backstair minister at Court, who, while the reputed favourites are sauntering in the bed-chamber, is ruling the roast in the closet. 1877. Grenville Murray, Round about France, p. 77. These men are the most indefatigable retailers of backstairs small talk to the little fry of journalism. Back-Stall, subs. (thieves’).—An accomplice who ‘covers’ the actual thief; especially used in relation to garrote-robberies, in which the back-stall has two functions, first to screen his companion, and then, if necessary, to ‘make off’ with the booty. Back Talk. No back talk! phr. (common).— 1. A slang catch-phrase indicating that the matter in question is closed to discussion; ‘there’s nothing more to be said.’ 2. Underhand insinuation. Back Teeth. To have one’s back teeth well afloat, phr. (popular).—A facetiously brutal way of implying that the subject of such a remark is well primed with liquor—even to the verge of drunkenness.—See Screwed. 1888. Missouri Republican, Jan. 25. When sober on the bench, Judge Noonan is a model of all the virtues. On Friday night, however, in company with Dr. Munford, of Kansas City, ex-Speaker Wood, Mr. Charles Mead and several other gentlemen, his honour once more drank until, as an onlooker put it, his back teeth were well afloat. Back-Timber, subs. (old).—Clothes. A humorous term which dates back to the middle of the seventeenth century. Other slang equivalents are togs and toggery; also war-paint in the sense of fine or showy garb. In French argot, alpague is used synonymously. b. 1574, d. 1656. Bp. Hall, Works V., 543. Was there ever more riot and excess in diet and clothes, in belly-cheer and back-timber, than we see at this day? [d.] Back Tommy, subs. (tailors’).—A piece of cloth used to cover the ‘stays’ at the waist. Back-Track. To take the back-track, phr. (American).—To retreat from any assumed position; to back out (q.v.). Back Up, verb. (Winchester College).—To call out. In ‘College’ various times are called out by Junior in ‘Chambers,’ such as ‘Three quarters!’ ‘Hour!’ ‘Bells go single!’ ‘Bells down!’ Back-Slang, subs. (street and costermonger).—A species of slang, in which every word, as far as possible, is pronounced backwards. See ‘A Comparative and Historical Study of Slang’ at the end of this work. verb. 1. (thieves’).—To talk in the back-slang lingo. 2. (thieves’).—To go or come stealthily from a place; to sneak by a roundabout way; also, to go away quickly. 3. (Australian).—Up country in Australia, as in most parts a little out of the beaten tracks of civilization, a traveller is welcome at most of the homesteads in his way. Though unknown to the inmates, and bearing no letter of introduction, it is a common thing for a wayfarer to ride or drive up to a house, maybe call for help, and then take up his quarters for the night. This, in Australia, is called back-slanging it, though how the phrase is derived is not quite clear, for there is no suggestion of sneaking or proceeding stealthily in the question. Backwardation, subs. (Stock Exchange).—A penalty paid for an extension of time, by sellers, when unable to deliver stock or shares which they have contracted to deliver by a certain date. Backwardation is the reverse of contango (q.v.). Obviously this sometimes permits the purchase of stock cheaper on credit than for cash. 1850. Keyser, Law of the Stock Exchange. The term backwardation is employed when stock is more in demand than money, and a premium is given to obtain the loan of stock against its value in money. 1886. Daily News, 14 Dec, p. 6, col. 1. The 1873 loan is, on balance, about ⅝ lower, at 94, after being 93½. The backwardation on the stock went off at the close. Backy, subs. (tailors’).—A shop-mate who works behind another. Bacon, subs. (popular).—The human body. A reference probably to the fact that the flesh of the pig forms the staple meat diet of the rural population, and lower classes generally. Formerly, no doubt, the term was applied, at first ironically or contemptuously, to a sleek, gross person; hence such compounds as ‘chaw-bacon,’ ‘bacon-brains,’ ‘bacon-face,’ ‘bacon-slicer,’ ‘bacon-picker,’ etc. A transference in sense, and a curtailment in form, in which bacon came to signify the human body was, from this point, easy enough. For synonyms, see Apple-cart. To save one’s bacon, phr. (popular).—To escape narrowly from loss, danger, or damage; to just get off. The term is here an attributive usage of the slang sense, in which bacon signifies the human body. When it is said that a man has just saved his bacon, it refers to the individual himself. So also in the kindred phrase, ‘Oh, spare my bacon,’ the suppliant asks to be spared in his own person; and the same idea occurs in ‘to sell one’s bacon,’ i.e., one’s flesh or body, as in the case of women of the town. Falstaff, in. I. Henry IV., Act ii., Sc. 2. 93 [1596] thus applies bacon to human beings—‘On! Bacons, on!’ So far the general aspect of the question; in regard to particulars, Mr. Thomas Boys has some curious remarks upon the subject [N. and Q., 2 S., iv., 132] in effect as follows. In connecting the phrase to save one’s bacon with its original meaning, we are carried back to times when imputed heresy was expiated at the stake; and a man was said to have just saved his bacon (i.e., from frying), who had himself narrowly escaped the penalty of being burnt alive. This connection of the two ideas is thus shown. When a pig is killed, it is the custom in some of the southern countries of Europe, as well as in many parts of England, to remove the bristles from the dead pig’s hide, not by scalding but by singeing. This is an operation of some nicety; for too much singeing would spoil the bacon. But practice makes perfect; and by the aid of ignited stubble, straw, or paper, the object is effected. The bristles are all singed off, and the bacon remains intact. This operation of singeing is in Portugal called chamuscar, from chama or chamma, a flame or blaze. Chamuscar, to singe, as pigs, to takeoff the hair (Moraes). Hence the noun chamusco, which is the smell of anything that has been singed. Hence also the phrase cheira a chamusco (he smells of singeing). This last phrase, however, cheira a chamusco, was specially applied to any suspected heretic:—‘o que merece ser queimado, e faz per onde o seja, o que dizião por afronta aos Judeos encobertos.’ That is ‘he who deserved to be burnt, and acted in a way that was very likely to lead to it,’ was said to smell of singeing (‘cheirar a chamusco’), i.e., to smell of the fire. Consequently, the phrase was contumeliously addressed to anyone who was secretly a Jew (Moraes). Thus the persecuted Israelite, who steadfastly adhered to his forefathers’ creed, and lived in daily peril of the stake, was allusively but threateningly and insultingly compared to the abhorred carcass, which, though not yet roasted, boiled or fried, had already the smell of fire. If, after all, he was actually burnt alive, the same allusion was carried out to the end; for he was then said, ‘morrer frito,’ to be fried to death (literally, ‘to die fried’). But even if not burnt he still had the chamusco, or ‘smell of fire’; that is, he had only just saved his bacon. 1691. Weesils, I., 5. No, they’l conclude I do’t to save my bacon. [M.] 1705. Ward, Hudibras Redivivus, vol. I., pt. II., p. 12. For could their talent be forsaken, And they unite truth to save their bacon. 1721. Mrs. Centlivre, The Artifice, v., ii. That pretence shan’t save your bacon, you old villain you. 1836. M. Scott, Cringle’s Log, ch. v. ‘You know I saved your bacon in that awkward affair, when through drunkenness you plumped the Torch ashore.’ 1866. C. Reade, Never Too Late, ch. lii. Jem drew a long breath and said brutally, yet with something of satisfaction, ‘You have saved your bacon this time.’ The French equivalent it may be noticed is somewhat analogous—sauver son lard, i.e., ‘to save one’s bacon.’ Possibly, however, most people will be inclined to take the phrase at its face value, without resort to complicated argumentative derivation. In such a case the figurative use of bacon as signifying the body will suffice to explain its origin. To pull bacon, phr. (popular).—An operation described by the immortal Ingoldsby in the line— He put his thumb unto his nose and spread his fingers out. In other words to take a sight (q.v.), or to make Queen Anne’s fan (q.v.). 1886. Household Words, Oct. 2, p. 453. [This] peculiar action has, I believe, almost invariably been described as ‘taking a sight.’ A solicitor, however, in a recent police case at Manchester, described it as pulling bacon. 1887. Leeds Evening News, Sept. 15. ‘Pulling bacon’ at Leeds policemen.—Before Mr. Goodman and Mr. Farrar Smith, at the Leeds Police Court to-day, George Evans (50), coachman to the Earl of Mexborough, Mexborough Hall, near Methley, was summoned under the Hackney Carriage Bye-laws for having driven on the wrong side of the road. Police-constables Moody and Lockwood were on duty in Boar Lane on the 6th inst., when they saw the defendant driving a pair of horses attached to a carriage on the wrong side of the road for a distance of one hundred yards. The officers spoke to him, when he put his fingers to his nose and pulled bacon at them. He had been previously cautioned, but had not taken the slightest notice. Defendant said he had been a driver in London for eighteen years, and knew they had policemen in the road there, but he did not understand the law of driving in Yorkshire. He was fined 20s. Bacon-Faced, adj. (colloquial).—With sleek, fat face; full faced. Otway in the Atheist [1684] speaks of one with a ‘bacon face like a cherubim.’ Bacon-Fed, adj. (colloquial).—Fat or greasy. The expression occurs in Shakspeare’s King Henry IV.—See Bacon. Bacon-Slicer, subs. (old).—A rustic.—See Chawbacon. 1653. Urquhart, Rabelais, bk. I., ch. xv. (Bohn), I., 149. If he have not a better judgment, a better discourse, and that expressed in better terms than your son, with a complete carriage and civility to all manner of persons, account me for ever hereafter a very clounch, and bacon-slicer of Brene. Bad, adj. (popular).—Hard; difficult. Used as in quotation. 1884. Hawley Smart, Post to Finish, ch. xi. ‘I have heard you say over and over again that, when they are in the mood, their very temper makes them bad to beat.’ To go to the bad, phr. (colloquial).—To be ruined; to become depraved. Virgil has a similar phrase in pejus ruere, ‘to go to the worse.’ 1864. M. E. Braddon, Aurora Floyd, ch. xi. ‘A reckless man, ready to go to the bad by any road that can take me there; worthless alike to myself and to others.’ 1880. G. R. Sims, Ballads of Babylon (Beauty and Beast). Let him go to the bad at his own mad pace. To the bad, i.e., on the wrong side of the account; in deficit. 1816. ‘Quiz,’ Grand Master, viii., 25. I’ve really to the bad some thousand of rupees to add. [M.] 1884. Pall Mall G., 6 Feb., 4. He was between £70 and £80 to the bad. [M.] Want ’em or him bad, phr. (American).—A humorous manner of expressing strong desire. 1888. Daily Inter-Ocean, March 9. Myers’ absence is seriously annoying to the defense, and does not appear quite as funny as it did when the prosecution called for him on Saturday last. It is not probable that the Court will very long suspend the trial if Myers does not appear. As the case now stands, the defense want Myers, and want him bad. Bad ’Apenny.—See Bad halfpenny. Bad-Bargain, subs. (old).—Formerly a worthless soldier; a malingerer. Nowadays the term is applied to any worthless person or scapegrace. Bad-Break, subs. (American).—A corruption of ‘bad outbreak,’ i.e., riotous conduct, generally attributable to drink. Bad Crowd Generally, phr. (American).—Of Western origin, and equivalent to the English no great shakes (q.v.). ‘Crowd,’ it may be remarked, in America, signifies either one or more individuals. Bad-Egg, subs. (familiar).—A scoundrel; a blackguard; a ‘loose fish.’ In America the meaning attached to the term does not necessarily involve such an idea of depravity as on this side of the Atlantic. In the States the term is also applied to a worthless speculation. 1866. Sala, Trip to Barbary, p. 130. The man in black baize with the felt képi, and who had a hatchet face desperately scarred with the small-pox, looked from head to heel a bad egg. 1877. Five Years’ Penal Servitude, ch. ii., p. 123. There is no doubt, but there are many of the officials of the convict prisons who are what the Yankees call bad eggs. English Synonyms. Bad-lot; bad halfpenny; bad-hat. In Australia ‘ne’er-do-wells’ are termed sundowners; dry hash; or, a stringy bark. French Synonyms. Malfrat (popular); mauvais gobet (popular: mauvais, bad; gobet, properly a mouthful, morsel, lump, or piece); ferlampier or ferlandier (thieves’: ferlampié formerly signified a dunce); clique (popular); mariasse (popular). Bad Form, subs. (society).—He who, or that which fails to conform to the shifting fads and fancies of Society, with a big S; and, in a more general sense, anybody or anything vulgar or lacking polish. 1882. Punch. Eton boy. What an awful lot of energy you’ve got uncle! Uncle. Pretty well, my boy, for my time of life, I think! e. b. Yes! but energy’s such awful bad form, you know! Badge, subs. (old).—Used in the canting sense, for one branded in the hand. ‘He has got his badge, and piked’; i.e., ‘he was burned in the hand, and is at liberty.’—Grose. Badge-Cove, subs. (old).—A parish pensioner; also in the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries a licensed beggar or almsman. The remarks under Abram man and Abram sham are to the point in this connection. Badger, subs. (old).—1. A river thief. A good account of these gentry appears in Harrison Ainsworth’s Jack Sheppard. 2. (American thieves’).—In the cant language of the American criminal classes a badger or panel thief (q.v.) is one who robs a man after a woman accomplice has enticed the victim into her den. 3. (schoolboy).—A red haired individual. 4. (harlotry).—A common prostitute.—See Barrack-hack. 5. (nautical).—Sometimes badger-bag. The fictitious individual personating Neptune in the festivities incident to ‘crossing the line.’—See Ambassador and Arthur. 6. (Wellington School).—A fellow who has got his ‘badge’ for play in the 2nd XV. at football. verb. (popular).—To tease; to annoy; to confound. 1798. O. Keefe, Wild Oats, I., i. At home, abroad, you will still badger me. 1836. Dickens, Pickwick, ch. xxxiv., p. 299. Tracy Tupman, and Augustus Snodgrass, were severally called into the box; both corroborated the testimony of their unhappy friend; and each was driven to the verge of desperation by excessive badgering. 1860. Dickens, Great Expectations, ch. xviii., p. 82. ‘Which I meantersay,’ cried Joe, ‘that if you come into my place bull-baiting and badgering me, come out!’ The popular French equivalent of to badger is aguigner. To overdraw the badger, phr. (popular).—A figurative use of ‘drawing the badger’; to overdraw one’s banking account. 1843–4. Hood, Miss Kilmansegg. His cheeks no longer drew the cash, Because, as his comrades explain’d in flash, He had overdrawn his badger. Badger State, subs. (American).—A popular name for the State of Wisconsin, and so called because of the badgers which once abounded there. Bad Give-Away.—See Give away. Bad-Halfpenny, subs. (popular).—A ne’er-do-weel; an allusion to the frequency with which, like bad coins, they are always ‘turning up.’ Cf., Bad-egg. (Australian).—A failing speculation; a risky venture. Bad Hat, subs. (popular).—The same as bad egg (q.v.). 1883. Besant, They Were Married, p. II., ch. ix., in Captain’s Room, etc. There may be one or two bad hats among eldest sons; but there is not one, I am sure—there cannot be one—who would dare to take his wife’s salary and deprive her of her son. Bad Lot.—A term derived from auctioneering slang, and now generally used to describe a man or woman of indifferent morals. 1849. Thackeray, Pendennis, ch. lx. ‘He’s a bad’un, Mr. Lightfoot—a bad lot, sir, and that you know.’ 1868. Miss Braddon, Trail of the Serpent, bk. I., ch. ii. ‘I am good for nothing,’ he said, ‘I am a bad lot. I wonder they don’t hang such men as me.’ 1872. M. E. Braddon, Dead Sea Fruit, ch. i. ‘The impracticable Daniel has a certain kind of influence; and though he rarely cares to use it on his own account—being so bad a lot that he dare not give himself a decent character—he will employ it to the uttermost for a spotless nephew.’ Bad Man, subs. (American).—A bad man, in the West, is a somewhat mixed character. The term is generally understood to mean a professional fighter or man-killer, but who, despite this drawback, is said by Roosevelt, in Ranch Life in the Far West, to be sometimes, according to his light, perfectly honest. These are the men who do most of the killing in frontier communities; yet it is a noteworthy fact that the men who are killed generally deserve their fate. These men are, of course, used to brawling, and are not only sure shots, but, what is equally important, able to ‘draw’ their weapon with marvellous quickness. They think nothing whatever of murder, and are the dread and terror of their associates; yet they are very chary of taking the life of a man of good standing, and will often ‘weaken’ and ‘backdown’ at once if confronted fearlessly. With many of them their courage arises from confidence in their own powers and knowledge of the fear in which they are held; and men of this type often show the white feather when they get into a ‘tight place.’ Others, however, will face any odds without flinching, and when mortally wounded, have been known to fight with a cool ferocious despair that was terrible. During the last two or three years, stockmen have united to put down these dangerous characters, often by the most summary exercise of lynch law; and, as a consequence, many localities once infested by bad men are now perfectly law-abiding. Bad Match Twist, subs. phr. (hairdressers’).—A man who has red, or carotty hair and black whiskers is said to have a bad match twist. Badminton, subs. (common).—1. A cooling drink; a kind of claret-cup, so called because invented at the Duke of Beaufort’s seat of the same name. Composed of claret, sugar, spice, soda-water, and ice. 1845. Disraeli, Sybil, bk. I., ch. i. ‘Waiter, bring me a tumbler of Badminton.’ 1853. Whyte Melville, Digby Grand, ch. ix. An enormous measure of Badminton, that grateful compound of mingled claret, sugar, and soda-water. 1868. Ouida, Under Two Flags, ch. ix. Looking up out of a great silver flagon of Badminton, with which he was ending his breakfast. 2. (pugilistic).—Blood; from the similarity in colour to the summer drink of the same name. Claret (q.v.), for a like reason, is also, in the language of the prize-ring, synonymous with blood. Bad Record.—See Record. Bad Shot, subs. (popular).—An abortive attempt; a woman’s guess. 1844. Kinglake, Eothen, viii., 137. I secretly smiled at this last prophecy as a bad shot. 1859. Rev. E. Bradley (‘Cuthbert Bede’) in Notes and Queries, 2 S., viii., p. 492. A bad shot is one of the worst exposures of his ignorance that a University man when up for examination can make. See, however, Shot. Bad Slang, subs. (circus and showmen’s).—Faked up monstrosities; spurious curiosities. 1876. C. Hindley, Life and Adventures of a Cheap Jack, p. 206. Roderick Palsgrave was considered by all who knew him to be the best showman of a bad slang that ever travelled. He would get hold of any black girl or woman, dress her up, and then show her as one of the greatest novelties ever seen. Bag, subs. (old slang).—1. A woman when enceinte was said ‘to have a bag.’ Cf., To bag. Sense 3. 2. (Westminster School).—Milk. To empty the bag, phr. (old).—To tell, or disclose the whole truth; to wind up an argument or discussion. To give the bag, phr. (old).—1. Formerly used in varying senses. In the following quotation it conveys, says Nares, the idea of chicanery and cheating. This, however, is doubtful, but compare ‘to give the bag to hold.’ 1592. Greene, Quip, in works IX., 263. You shall be ... lighte witted upon every small occasion to geue your maister the bagge. 2. In another respect to give the bag was used in a sense analogous to that conveyed in to give the sack (q.v.), i.e., to dismiss a person from one’s employment, with this important difference that primarily the ‘bag’ or ‘sack’ was not given by the master or mistress to the servant, but vice versâ, and, therefore, the expression meant ‘to leave without warning.’ This was the earliest usage. 1592. Defence of Conny Catching, in Greene’s works XI., 86. If he meane to giue her the bagge, he selleth whatsoever he can, and so leaues hir spoild both of hir wealth and honestie. 1647. Speedy Hue and Crie, I.... He being sometime an Apprentice on London Bridge ... gave his master the bag. [M.] Gradually the meaning of to give the bag changed to that which, even to-day, is dialectically current, i.e., ‘to dismiss a person from one’s employment,’ though in large centres of population to give or receive the sack is, at present, the more popular equivalent. While dealing with variations of this kind, it is noteworthy that ‘bag’ was, in the seventeenth century, varied by ‘canvas,’ as Shirley has it—— 1652. Shirley, The Brothers, Act ii. I have promis’d him as much as marriage comes to, and I lose my honour, if my don receive the canvas. Gifford and Dyce in a note say ‘the phrase is taken from the practice of journeymen mechanics who travel in quest of work, with the implements of their profession. When they are discharged by their masters, they are said to receive the canvas, or the bag; because in this their tools and necessaries are packed up, preparatory to their removal.’ This suggested derivation would possibly pass muster were it not that, treated historically, the phrase though identical in form is shown to have had an earlier usage, and one, moreover, of an entirely antagonistic character; unless indeed, in the first instance, it was customary for employers to find ‘bags’ of tools and working implements for their employees, in which case the workman or servant in leaving his work would naturally give the master the bag. The transition in sense which the phrase has undergone would then become perfectly clear, as far as the why and wherefore of the change is concerned. Cf., Sack. To give one the bag to hold, phr. (old).—To leave in the lurch; to engage a person’s attention in order to deceive. Cf., To give the bag, sense 1. 1793. T. Jefferson, Writings (1859), iv., 7. She will leave Spain the bag to hold. [M.] 1823. Scott, Peveril of the Peak, vii. She gave me the bag to hold and was smuggling in a corner with a rich old Puritan. In the bottom of the bag, phr. (old).—An expression equivalent to what, in modern slang, is termed ‘having a trump card in reserve’; something in hand as a last resource or expedient. 1659. Reynolds, in Burton Diary (1828), iv., 447. If this be done which is in the bottom of the bag, and must be done, we shall ... be able to buoy up our reputation, [M.] To let the cat out of the bag, phr. (familiar).—To disclose a trick or secret.—See Cat. To put one in a bag, phr. (old).—Usage and derivation explained, as far as known, in quotation. 1662. Fuller, Worthies, Cardigan (ii., 579). They (the Welsh) had a kind of play wherein the stronger who prevailed put the weaker into a sack; and hence we have borrowed our English by-word to express such, betwixt whom there is apparent odds of strength. ‘He is able to put him up in a bagge.’ [d.] 1676. Earl of Rochester, Hist. of Insipids, st. 14. Had haughty Holms but call’d in Spragg, Hans had been put into a bag. To put or get one’s head in a bag, phr. (printers’).—A ‘bag’ here signifies a pot of beer; hence, to drink. Also in use amongst seafaring men. 1887. Sat. Review, 14 May, p. 700. It is slang, and yet purely trade slang, when one printer says of another that he has got his head in the bag. To turn to bag and wallet (old).—To become a beggar. Verb. (popular).—1. To secure for oneself. Most probably a mere extension of the colloquial sporting usage of to bag (properly, to put or enclose in a bag), in the sense of to seize, capture, entrap, or otherwise bring within one’s reach. 1880. Mortimer Collins, Thoughts in my Garden, vol. I., p. 163. The word beggar itself is from bag—meaning a man who carries a bag; and modern commercial slang reproduces the phrase, saying of a clever man of business that he has bagged a good thing. 2. To steal; or to catch (a thief or man). Sometimes rendered by to collar (q.v.). 1818. Moore, Fudge Family in Paris, VI. Who can help to bag a few, When Sidmouth wants a death or two? 1862. Farrar, St. Winifred’s, ch. xxxv. They would not call it stealing but bagging a thing, or, at the worst, ‘cribbing it’—concealing the villainy under a new name. 3. (old).—To beget; to conceive; to breed. Also to be bagged. This usage dates from about A.D. 1400, and was colloquial until about the middle of the seventeenth century. Warner [in Alb. Eng. VI., 148] has the line Well, Venus shortly bagged, and ere long was Cupid bred. To get baggy, phr. (common).—Said of clothes when loosened by the stretching which arises from wear and tear. Trousers get baggy at the knees. Bag and Baggage, phr. (common).—To clear one out bag and baggage is to get quit of one entirely. A deprecatory expression indicating complete riddance. Bag and Bottle, subs. phr. (old).—Food and drink. The former from being carried in a bag as by beggars and vagrants; the latter also being of similar derivation. 1671. Eachard, Observations. An ill-contriving rascal that in his younger years should choose to lug the bag and the bottle a mile or two to school; and to bring home only a small bit of Greek or Latin most magisterially construed. Baggage. Heavy baggage, subs. phr. (old).—1. Women and children.—Grose. 2. Baggage is also a familiar colloquialism for a pert, saucy, young woman; like ‘wench,’ ‘rogue,’ ‘gypsy,’ it is often used endearingly. 1693. Congreve, Old Batchelor, I., iii. I believe the baggage loves me. 1732. Fielding, The Miser, Act i., Sc. 9. Here’s a baggage of a daughter, who refuses the most advantageous match that ever was offered. 1863. Alex. Smith, Dreamthorpe, p. 12. And Beauty, who is something of a coquette ... goes off in a huff. Let the baggage go! 3. (old).—A whore or strumpet; a woman of loose morals. 4. (old).—Rubbish; ‘rot.’ 1575. Touchstone of Complexions, p. 118. For throughe cruditye and lacke of perfect concoction in the stomacke is engendered great abundance of naughty baggage and hurtful phlegme. 1576. Gascoigne, The Steele Glas, p. 79. When brewers put no bagage in their beere. Adj. (old).—Used contemptuously of individuals and things. Cf., Baggage—a worthless, good-for-nothing woman. 1593. G. Harvey, Pierees Superero, in works (Gresart) II., 273. Bibbing Nash, baggage Nash, swaddish Nash, rogish Nash, the bellweather of the scribling flocke. 1692. Hacket, Life of Williams, ii., 128. For four cellars of wine, syder, ale, beer, with wood, hay, corn, and the like, stored up for a year or two, he gave not account of sixpence, but spent it upon baggage, and loose franions. Ibid., p. 123. Booth himself confest, in the hearing of those witnesses, that Pregion had nothing to do with that baggage woman. Baggage-Smasher, subs. (American).—1. A railway porter. The why and wherefore of this nickname is abundantly apparent from the following quotations. 1871. De Vere, Americanisms, p. 358. The baggage-smasher, as the porter is commonly called, handles his burdens with appalling recklessness, and responsibility there is none. 1880. New Virginians, i., 37. ‘Called baggage-smashers.’ [M.] 1888. Texas Siftings, Nov. 3. Fashionable people who have spent the summer at the watering places or at the seaside, but have now returned to the cities, assert that the baggage-smasher has become more destructive than ever. The baggage-smasher is indeed a terror. In fact there are two of them: the one who flits from station to station and dumps your poor dumb trunk with force enough to drive piles in a government breakwater, and the one who loiters around the depôt watching for his chance to shatter your baggage. The depôt baggageman is the most culpable of the two species. In his long and dark career of smashing trunks, he has, evidently, knocked the hoops off his conscience, and there is no remorse brave, foolhardy and reckless enough to tackle his heart-strings and play on them. 2. Also a thief who hangs about ‘depôts,’ with a view to robbery of luggage. 1861. New York Tribune, Nov. 23. Gamblers, ticket-swindlers, emigrant robbers, baggage-smashers, and all the worst classes of the city. Bagged, ppl. adj. (American).—A term used to signify imprisonment and victimization—probably only an extension of the idea of capture as derived from sport, through the slang ‘to bag,’ i.e., to steal. Cf., To bag. Bagging, subs. (provincial slang).—In the first instance, food taken between regular meals; now generally applied, especially in Lancashire, to what is known in the South of England as ‘high tea.’ 1750. J. Collier, in Lancashire Glossary (E.D.S.). Hoo’l naw cum agen till baggin’ time. [M.] 1870. Chambers’ Journal, Oct., p. 661. Lancashire adopts the whole-board or partial-board system very extensively. The local term of bagging implies bread and cheese, or pies; and there are all the varieties of board and lodging, dinner of potatoes and bacon with buttermilk, bagging in the forenoon and afternoon, dinner and lunch, and rations allowed for women. 1879. In Temple Bar Mag., 4 Jan. Baggin’ is not only lunch, but any accidental meal coming between two regular ones. Bagging the Over.—See Jockeying the over. Bagman, subs. (popular).—1. A commercial traveller. Formerly of respectable usage; now only employed contemptuously. 1765. Goldsmith, Essays, I. The bagman was telling a better story. [M.] 1840. Thackeray, Paris Sketch Book, p. 20. When all the rest of mankind look hideous, dirty, peevish, wretched, after a forty hours’ coach-journey, a bagman appears as gay and spruce as when he started. The term bagman took its rise in the saddle-bags in which the commercial traveller of the past century carried his patterns and goods. These saddle-bags being of larger dimensions than those usually carried by travellers on horseback, would designate the commercial traveller par excellence as the bagman. 2. In sporting slang, a ‘bag-fox.’ 1875. Stonehenge, Brit. Sports, I., II., iv., § 5. If ... wild cubs cannot be found, a bagman or two must be obtained. [M.] Bagnio, subs. (old).—A brothel. [From Italian bagno, a bath, properly a hot bath; whence an application as in the case of stew (q.v.), for a house of prostitution.] 1624. Massinger, Parliament of Love, II., ii. To be sold to a brothel or a common bagnio. 1851. Thackeray, English Humour, V. (1858), 243. How the prodigal drinks and sports at the bagnio. 1861. Wright, Domestic Manners in England during the Middle Ages, 491. They were soon used to such an extent for illicit intrigues, that the name of a hothouse or bagnio became equivalent to that of a brothel. Bag of Bones, subs. phr. (familiar).—A lean, attenuated person; sometimes called a ‘walking skeleton.’ The French have un sac à os (often contracted into sacdos)—a literal translation. The term is quite modern, being traced by Murray no further back than 1838, when Dickens used it [in Oliver Twist, iv., 64]. Bag o’ Moonshine, subs. phr. (common).—Nonsense.—See All moonshine. Bag of Nails, subs. phr. (American thieves’).—A state of confusion or topsy-turveydom. [Qy. from ‘bacchanals.’] Bag of Tricks, phr. (common).—Generally, the whole bag of tricks; i.e., every expedient. Bagpipe, subs. (common).—A windy talker; a senseless chatter-box. The derivation is obviously from the musical instrument of the same name. Verb. (old).—A lascivious practice; too indecent for explanation. Bags, subs. (popular).—An ironical nickname for trousers, thought by some to be of University origin, and borrowed from ‘the variegated bags’ of Euripides—τους θυλάκους τους ποικίλους (Cyclops., 182). 1853. Rev. E. Bradley (‘Cuthbert Bede’), Adventures of Verdant Green, p. 51. Just jump into a pair of bags and Wellingtons. Ibid., p. 5. His black go-to-meeting bags. 1870. Chambers’ Journal (Christmas Number). ‘But, holloa!’ he cried, as he caught sight of his legs. ‘Parsons don’t wear light tweed bags!’... Jack had to unpack his portmanteau and get out his evening inexpressibles. 1874. M. Collins, Frances, ch. xv. His well-shapen hip and calf were hidden in loose-fitting bags of corduroy. 1880. Punch, Jan. 10, p. 6. The spread of education and liberal ideas.—His Grace the Duke of Poplar and Bermondsey. ‘Just look at these bags you last built me, Snippe! J’ever see such beastly bags in your life? I shall always be glad to come and dine with you, old man; but I’ll be hanged if you shall ever measure me for another pair of bags!’ Mr. Snippe (of Snippe and Son, St. James’s Street). ‘You’ve always grumbled about your bags, as you call ’em, ever since you were my fag at Eton; and at Christchurch you were just as bad, even though my poor dear old governor used to come all the way down and measure you himself. It ain’t the fault of the bags, my dear Popsy—it’s the fault of the legs inside ’em! So, shut up, old Stick-in-the-mud, and let’s join the ladies—the duchess has promised to give us “Little Billee.”’ When made of startling material, or ‘cut’ in an exaggerated style of fashion they become howling bags. English Synonyms. Dittoes; kicks; kicksies; bum-bags; sit-upons; unmentionables; continuations; hams; inexpressibles; abridgements; drumstick-cases; and ducks (when made of white material). French Synonyms. Dalzar; falzar. Intj. (schoolboy).—Bags! or bags I! is frequently used to assert a claim to some article or privilege. Analogous schoolboy slang is fains or fain it (q.v.) for demanding a truce during the progress of a game, and which is always granted by the opposing party. In other schools pike I or prior pike serve to lay claim to anything, or for asserting priority of claim. Also bar! e.g., ‘He wanted me to do so and so, but I barred not.’ Cf., Fain, Pike, and Bar. To have the bags, phr. (popular).—This phrase is erroneously given by Hotten (and Barrère has followed suit), as to have the bags off. The meaning is to be of age, and thus to possess all the rights and privileges of adultship; also to have plenty of money. Obviously an allusion to the transition from child’s attire to the garments of manhood. Bags of mystery, subs. phr. (common).—Sausages and saveloys are so called—from the often mysterious character of their compounds. Presumably composed of minced ‘meat,’ but so highly flavoured and seasoned that no man can tell whereof they are made. To take the bags (athletic).—To act as ‘hare’ in ‘Hare and Hounds,’ a game too well known to need description in this place. (Stock Exchange).—Buenos Ayres Great Southern Railway Bonds.—Formed from the initial letters, thus B-A-G-S. Baijan.—See Bejan. Bail. Straw-bail or straw-shoes, subs. (common).—A nickname for a person willing for a consideration, to give evidence, or act as bail. Formerly men were much more ostentatious in plying a vocation of perjury than is now happily possible. It was no uncommon thing for such openly to perambulate the entrances to the law-courts ready for any chance customer. They made known their occupation by wearing a piece of straw just sticking out of their shoes. The Quarterly Review (xxxiii., 344) points out that the practice is a very ancient one, Athens having abounded in straw-shoes. The modus operandi was much the same then as in later days. When it was ‘desirable’ to season Attic testimony with bribery and perjury, the scene outside a Greek court of justice might be thus described. An advocate or lawyer who wanted a convenient witness knew by these signs [the straws in the sandals] where to find one, and the colloquy between the parties was brief. ‘Don’t you remember’ said the advocate—(the party looked at the fee and gave no sign: but the fee increased and the powers of memory increased with it). ‘To be sure I do!’ ‘Then come into the court and swear it.’ And straw-shoes went into the court and swore it. As b.c., so A.D. 1754—before and after. 1754. Fielding, Jonathan Wild,