On hearing that Mr. Ude, the celebrated cook, was engaged by Mr. Crockford, at a salary of £1,200 per annum.
With this Ude for a cook—who all cooks doth excell—
There’ll be nothing on earth like a dinner in “Hell!”
Hen and Chickens.—All my pretty chickens and their dam, St. James’.—The Missus and the blooming kids, St. Giles’.
Highflier.—A tip-topper, a first rater.
Hop Merchant.—A dancing master.
Holy Land.—The back slums of St. Giles’.
Holy Water.—Gin.
Horse Chaunter.—A man being brought up at one of the police courts, the magistrate asked, “What is your trade?”—“A horse chaunter, yer vurship.”—“A what! a horse chaunter? Why what’s that?”—“Vy, yer vurship, ain’t you up to that ere trade?”—“Come, explain yourself,” said the magistrate.—“Vell, yer vurship, I goes round among the livery stables—they all on’em knows me—and ven I sees a gen’man bargaining for an ’orse, I just steps up like a stranger, and ses I, “Vell, that’s a rare ’un, I’ll be bound,” ses I; ‘he’s got the beautifullest ’ead and neck as ever I seed,’ ses I; ‘only look at ’is open nostrils—he’s got vind like a no-go-motive, I’ll be bound; he’ll travel a hundred miles a day, and never vunce think on’t; them’s the kind of legs vat never fails.’ Vell, this tickles the gen’man, and he ses to ’imself, ‘that ’ere ’onest countryman’s a rale judge of a ’orse;’ so please you, yer vurship, he buys ’im and trots off. Vell, then I goes up to the man vat keeps the stable, and axes ’im, ‘Vell, vat are you going to stand for that ’ere chaunt?’ and he gives me a suvrin. Vell, that’s vat I call ’orse chaunting, yer vurship; there’s rale little ’arm in it; there’s a good many sorts on us; some chaunts canals, some chaunts railroads, some chaunts j’int stock companies, and ther’s a werry many other chaunts in this ’ere vorld as is too numerous to mention and some on ’em as even me nor ye vurship is’nt fly too.”
Hot House.—A brothel:—“Now she professes a hot-house, which I think, is a very ill-house too.”
Hot Waters.—Spirits.