Isle of Bishop.—A phrase among the Collegians at Oxford for getting jolly over port wine, roasted oranges and lemons.
Ivories.—The teeth: wash, or sluice your Ivories; drink.
J.
Jackson’s Rooms—were in Bond Street.—Mr. John Jackson, otherwise Gentleman Jackson? The proprietor was for a long time the connecting link between the patrons and practitioners of the Prize Ring. His persevering and honourable character enabled him to realize a handsome competence. He died at his residence 4, Grosvenor-street, Eaton-square, Oct. 7, 1845, aged 76.
Jarvey.—A Hackney-coach—“Better known perhaps by the name of a Hack: handy enough in wet weather or in a hurry.”
Jemmy.—A head. Bleeding Jemmy.—A sheep’s head, otherwise a Field-lane duck, otherwise The one eyed joint, otherwise Claretted James, otherwise Sanguinary Jacobus, otherwise a Pastoral Countenance, otherwise a Mountain Pecker, otherwise a Peaceful Profile. That man is to be pitied, who has not luxuriated on the delicasies of one of these, hot from the pan in their native element, at Mrs. Holmes’, the Two Brewers—the Sheep’s Head Tavern, Little St. Andrew Street, Seven Dials. Where the particular guest is never offended with a dirty table cloth, that appendage to mastication being invariably dispensed with; always taking care that they are accompanied with their proper and only sauce—a little of Hodges’s best, or Deady’s true cordial. Poor Colley Skylark, the Apollo of the pugilistic corps, has neglected many lordly banquets, for the felicity of feeding on them, and gouging out the rich eye in company with many of the gifted and learned of the age, viz.—The Keen pride of the British stage—the Comic Sheepface of Covent Garden—The talented author of the Cigar who acted as Clarke to the meeting: in their nocturnal vigils, and rich chaunts, will long be remembered there. Let us hope that Mr. Nash, the great architect, in his projected inroads through the Seven Dials, will spare this sacred haunt, so dear to the sons of good-feeding and fellowship. If he has ever had the happiness of regaling there, on a red hot bleeding jemmy! this remonstrance will not be needed.
Jemmy Green.—Every one must know this gentleman; he is a veritable being, and in being;—but as he is here said to live in Tooley Street, in the City, a place of no existence, no libel will lie. The lively Bunch of Greens, therefore, that at one time so pestered the Author with threatening and other letters, are informed their suspicions are quite correct, and that they were most certainly the officious empty fools of which this character is the representative.
Jerry Sneak.—A henpecked husband. From the poor sniveling Cockney cur in Foote’s farce of the “Mayor of Garrett.”
Johnny Raw.—A countryman.
Juniper.—Gin.