Chapter V: Part 5

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.