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,
Malgré the drink's most potent visitation.
His pencil, list, 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'Awho 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

Incar

at Clerkenwell Sessions. What was to be done? ceration and hard labour stared him in the face, and with them all the evil consequences connected with his absence from his newly established club.

In this dilemma he sought the advice and active service of Guy, his principal acting man in St James's Street. This man accompanied Crockford to the scene of trial, and, discovering the baron in the precinct of the Court, contrived to get into friendly conversation with him, a scheme which led to some judicious hints on the impolicy of his longer holding out against the liberal offer which he (Guy) had now the authority to make from Crockford. Fortunately for the latter the indictment was low down in the list of the day's business, and this gave opportunity to Guy to proceed more leisurely in his designs. He prevailed on the baron to accompany him to a tavern in the neighbourhood, and there, under the influence of copious draughts of wine, an arrangement was ultimately effected. The proposal, once entertained by the baron, was not left to the chance of change, nor was the baron permitted to consult with his adviser in the matter; time was precious, the cause was approaching its hearing, and at this crisis Guy called a coach, took from his pocket a tempting sum, hurried the baron into the vehicle, gave him the money, and never left him until he had seen him on board a vessel bound for a foreign country.

At the commencement of the season 1821-22, luck went against Crockford's gaming establishment, and night after night their capital decreased, so that, at last, it was with difficulty they could supply the funds requisite for the night's bank. One night, their last £5000 was scraped together, and they were all on wires; for an hour after play had commenced £3000 had flown away. Crockford could stand it no longer; he left the house, meditating whether he should hang or drown himself: but scarcely was his back turned than the run of luck changed, and, within two hours, the bank had not only recovered their night's loss, but a good round sum besides. For the remainder of the season Fortune was

in their favour, and, at its close, the proprietors had netted over £200,000.

Crockford began building his new club house in St James's Street in 1827, and workmen were engaged on it day and night. A huge ice house was dug which so affected the Guard's club house, which adjoined the northern end of Crockford's premises, that one entire side of it fell with a crash, leaving the entire interior completely exposed to the There are two bon môts on the subject, pre

public gaze. served.

"What can the workmen be about?

Do, Crockford, let the secret out,

Why thus our houses fall.

Quoth he, 'Since folks are out of town,
I find it better to pull down,

Than have no pull at all."

See, passenger, at Crockford's high behest,
Red coats by black legs ousted from their nest;
The arts of peace o'ermatching reckless war,
And gallant rouge outdone by wily noir."

The Club was opened in the latter part of 1827 with a great flourish of trumpets, and cards to view, which were eagerly sought after by the élite. The Times of Ist Jan. 1828 gives an account of the royal displeasure at this Club, which comes extremely à propos from the unsullied lips of George IV. "CROCKFORD'S HELL. The establishment of the Pandemonium in St James's, under the entire superintendence of the fishmonger and his unblushing patronizers, lately called forth the opinion of the highest personage in the kingdom, who expressed himself in a manner which reflected the utmost credit on his head and heart. A Nobleman of some standing at Court, in answer to a question from his royal master, denied, in the most unequivocal way, having become a subscriber to this splendid temple of vice. The monarch evinced his satisfaction at the intelligence, and, in his usual nervous style, denounced such infamous receptacles for plunder, as not only a disgrace to the country at large, but the age in which we live."

The number of members belonging to the Club was from 1000 to 1200, exclusive of the privilege, or right of entrée permitted to ambassadors and foreigners of distinction during their diplomatic sojourn, or temporary visit, to this country, and the Duke of Wellington, although he did not gamble, was one of the earliest members. The annual subscription was twenty-five pounds, and, for this, the members had the most luxurious club of its time, with wines and viands at a very low rate, although the latter were presided over by the celebrated chef, Ude, to whom Crockford paid a salary of £1200! The Annual Register, for 1834, tells a very amusing story of Ude in connection with Crockford's Club.

"On July 25 M. Eustache Ude, the celebrated French cook, appeared at Bow Street on a summons at the suit of the Marquess of Queensberry, for unlawfully disposing of certain birds called 'red game,' between the 19th of March and the 1st of August, contrary to the provisions of the Game Laws.

"Sir Roger Griesley deposed that he was a member of Crockford's Club House, and one of the managing committee of that establishment. The defendant was cook there, and, on the 19th of June, witness dined at the Club house, and saw grouse served in the room, but did not partake of it.

"M. Ude: Vell, my dear Sare Rojer, vat is all dis to me? Certainement you must know dat I don't know vat de devil goes up into de dining room. How de devil can I tell veder black game, or vite game, or red game go up to de dining room? Dere is plenty of game always go on in de house, but dat is nothing to me. My only business is to cook for de palates of dose who like de game.

Sir Roger Griesley: I really don't know what, in common justice, M. Ude can have to do in this matter. He is the cook of the establishment, certainly, but he only prepares what is ordered. The Committee order the things, and he provides according to that order. I knew you

"M. Ude: Tank you, my dear Sare Rojer.