Hartland, Frederick, Pantomimist, died August 17th, 1852, aged 70.
Hear any thing knock.—Take the office, to be put up to any thing that is going forward.
Heavy Plodders.—Stock brokers.
Heavy Wet.—Porter.
Hedge.—To “hedge off,” or “its a prime hedge for me,” are phrases repeatedly made use of in the Sporting World, when an individual wishes to save himself from any serious consequences.
Heel Tap.—“Bumpers all round,” and no heel-taps! “that is,” said Bob Logic, “your glasses are to be drained to the bottom.”
Hell.—A gambling house, from the infernal practices carried on in such places. In 1823 Lord Byron wrote—“What number of Hells there may be now in this life, I know not. Before I was of age, I knew them pretty accurately, both “Gold” and “Silver.” I was once nearly called out by an acquaintance, because, when he asked me where I thought that his soul would be found hereafter, I answered, ‘In Silver Hell.’”—
Don Juan, our young diplomatic sinner,
Pursued his path, and drove past some hotels,
St. James’s Palace, and St. James’s Hells.
Hells upon Earth.—Is a name given to the Swell Gambling-houses, at the West-end of the town; most of them situated in the vicinity of St. James’ Street. Some of the principal of these have been queered outright, by the vigilance and exertions of the beaks, whose orders to the traps upon the subject were so imperative, that taking tip to stash the matter, was quite out of the question; and some of the most distinguished Spirits that haunted these infernal abodes, were actually put under the discipline of Cubitt’s Machine to purify. But though the amateur of the broads may as he perambulates the suburbs of the Palace, see reason in many instances, to mourn for the desolation of his Zion, there are still enough of these places to make “a Hell upon earth” for thousands. All of these now remaining, are however eclipsed by the piscatory Hell, called Fishmongers’ Hall! so named, from Crockford, the keeper of it, having formerly been a Fishmonger, many persons remember Crockford, a poor, very poor Sprat Seller, yet he must now be living at the rate of nearly £4000, annum.—“Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.” at this establishment money is sported like dirt, which may account for so many of the visitors being cleaned out. It is a question whether any other Fishmonger’s shop, can boast of so numerous an assembly of flat fish and gudgeons.
Impromptu.