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Sir M. B-—.

Much might have been said on this establishment, but we have our reasons for not entering into details at present. Mr Phillips has been abroad, and, consequently, gives himself the airs of a travelled man, sets up for an homme d'esprit, fancies himself clever, and thinks he may be MIstaken for a gentleman.

'Oh! formose puer, nimium te crede colori !'

We have not done with you. We remember Sir John Of Captain Lowe, we can only say, that he deserves a better fate.



Our moral readers may start at the designation of this department; yet common sense will tell them that, as the Sunday Houses are but few, their profits must be the greater. Don't tell me about religion, morality, decorum, Those who hear gentlemen express themselves in these sinks of corruption, will at once discover that they are men of the world, who can adapt their conversation to their hearers. First under this head is



George Smith, George Pope and Co.

Mr P.

The scenes which nightly occur at this house, beggar all description. It is a hazard table, where the chances are little in favour of the uninitiated player. The first proprietor is low in stature as in breeding, a corpulent, selfsufficient, strutting, coxcombical, irreligious prig. is a respectable, decent, modest personage enough in his He is humble, and is forced to succumb to the other, who is the monied partner. Many tradesmen, broken, breaking, or in the right way, honour this house with their presence. This house, not being large enough for its trade, the proprietors have opened another in St James's Street.



27 Bury Street.

He has

He is a

Mr Oldfield is not a well-proportioned man. red hair, and soon betrays his dunghill origin. pragmatical, bloated, officious, flippant coxcomb, with the tout-ensemble of a waiter.

At the Sunday houses, Mr Kelly, proprietor of the public rooms at Cheltenham, which are not sufficient for him, is a steady hand, and, being a stout stentor of an Hibernian, keeps all his comrades in great awe. He, like Lord YY——, frequently plays by deputy; but that is only for small sums. However, like the bear in the boat of Gay

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He thought there might be picking
Even in the breast bone of a chicken.'

Bennet of Jermyn Street is tall and robust, with black hair and eyes, and a rather blue beard; and, as for Crockford, 'Do you know me ? Excellent well!


You're a


Crockford's Club His Life
Ude and the Magistrate

His new Club-house Epigrams thereon
Description of Club-house - Anecdotes of

À propos of Crockford, or Crockey, as he was familiarly called, his was perhaps the most celebrated gambling house in London, and deserves especial mention. It was on the site now occupied by the Devonshire Club, No. 50 St James's Street. William Crockford was born in 1775, his father being a fishmonger in a small way of business, having a shop adjoining Temple Bar, which was pulled down in 1846. His father dying when he was young, the business was carried on, first by his mother, and afterwards by himself, but he soon took to betting and gambling, became a proficient at cards, and was more particularly skilled in the games of whist, piquet and cribbage; he frequented the better kind of sporting houses in the neighbourhood of St James's market, where the latter game, more especially, was much played, and for large sums, by opulent tradesmen and others. He made some money at gambling, became connected with a gaming house in King Street, St James's, and then he turned his attention to horse racing; frequenting Tattersalls as a bookmaker, and becoming the owner of race horses. He had a splendid mansion and grounds at Newmarket, where he trained his stud, and at one time owned the celebrated horse Sultan, the sire of Bay Middleton, who won the Derby in 1836. But the roguery at Newmarket was too much even for him, and he sold his racing stud, and confined himself to his London businesses. About this time he is metrically described in a little pamphlet called “Leg

giana," which described the Legs who used to frequent The Sun tavern in Jermyn Street.

"Seated within the box, to window nearest,

See Crocky, richest, cunningest, and queerest
Of all the motley group that here assemble

To sport their blunt, chaff, blackguard and dissemble;
Who live (as slang has termed it) on the mace,
Tho' Crocky's heavy pull is, now, deuce ace.
His wine, or grog, as may be, placed before him,
And looking stupid as his mother bore him,
For Crock, tho' skilful in his betting duty,

Is not, 'twill be allowed, the greatest beauty;
Nor does his mug (we mean no disrespect)
Exhibit outward sign of intellect ;

In other words, old Crocky's chubby face
Bespeaks not inward store of mental grace;
Besides, each night, he's drunk as any lord,
And clips his mother English every word.
His head, howe'er, tho' thick to chance beholders,
Is screw'd right well upon his brawny shoulders;
He's quick as thought, and ripe at calculation,
Malgrè the drink's most potent visitation.
His pencil, líst, and betting book on table,
His wits at work, as hard as he is able,
His odds matur'd, at scarce a moment's pains,
Out pops the offspring of his ready brains,
In some enormous, captivating wager,

'Gainst one horse winning Derby, Oaks and Leger.
The bait is tak'n by some astonished wight,
Who chuckles, thinking it a glorious bite,
Nor takes the pains the figures o'er to run,
And see, by calculation, that he's done;
While Crocky books it, cash, for certain, won.
And why, forsooth, is Crocky to be blamed
More than those legs who're honourable named,
Whose inclination is plain sense to jockey,
But who lack brains to work the pull like Crocky?
Who, by the way, gives vast accommodation,
Nor bothers any one by litigation.

And, if a bet you'd have, you've nought to do,
But give it Crock, and, with it, sovereigns two;
You'll quickly, if you win it, touch the treasure,
For Crock (unlike some legs) dubs up with pleasure."


Crockford was indicted on several occasions, and by different persons, for his share in the nuisance of the public gaming-house in King Street; but his policy always led him to a settlement of the matter with the prosecutor, in preference to the risk of imprisonment and the treadmill.

On one occasion an indictment was preferred, and a true bill found against him and others, for keeping the beforementioned house; and it was not without difficulty and delay, creative of direful alarm, that the matter could be arranged so as to prevent the parties being brought to trial.

The prosecutor was a person known as Baron d'A

who formerly held a commission in the German Legion. This gentleman had been desperate, and, of course, unfortunate in his speculation at rouge et noir; and, at last, lost not only his pay, but the proceeds of the sale of his commission. Thus reduced, he became equally desperate in determination, and occasionally made demands and levied contributions from the parties who had won from him, but, compliance with such demands becoming less frequent and less willing, he resorted to the process of indictment, and made Crockford one of the objects of his attack. On the true bill being found, Crockford put in the necessary bail; between the period of which and the day appointed for trial, communication was opened with the baron, with a view to amicable settlement and non-appearance of the prosecutor on the day of trial; but in the negotiation Crockford's party relied too much on the poverty and distress of the baron, believing that the griping hand of necessity would oblige him to accept any offered sum to relieve his wants. Under such belief an inconsiderable amount was tendered, but refused. The baron had, fortunately for him, met with a shrewd adviser, who persuaded him to hold out against any overtures short of a handsome consideration; and he did so, notwithstanding the fact that a considerable advance had been made on the original sum offered to him.

The eve of trial approached, and Crockford's alarm was great. At length came the eventful day of his appearance

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