If a person has a great knack at finding out feats of legerdemain, you may pronounce him a blockhead.  I never knew a clever man who was worth a farthing at detecting such tricks.

I have a profound veneration for great liars of a certain class.  On this account Baron Munchausen, Major Longbow, and Ferdinand Mendez Pinto, are my especial favourites.  Men of this description are invariably good-tempered, benevolent, and generous; and will, any day, treat you to a bottle of wine, provided you do them the favour of listening to their adventures.

Important to Drunkards.—­If, an hour before sitting down to drink, you take a grain or two of opium, you will be able to withstand a much greater quantity than otherwise of liquor.  This fact has escaped the observation of Macnish.

Some stupid people suppose that imagination and philosophy are incompatible.  Blockheads!  Was not Bacon, the greatest of philosophers, one of the most imaginative of men?  There is more true philosophy in the writings of Shakespeare, Milton, and Scott, than in those of all the metaphysicians that ever existed.

An accomplished woman, in common parlance, means one who sings and dances well, knows a little French, a little Italian, a little drawing, a little embroidery, and not much of any thing, excepting fashionable novels; in which she is a great adept.

A lady’s album is generally worth looking at, as a psychological curiosity, indicative, to a considerable extent, of the taste and feelings of its owner.

If a man borrows a shilling from you, and on being dunned pretends to have forgotten it, you may with considerable safety set him down for a liar.

When a man finds it convenient to tell a lie, he should sport a good thumping one when he is about it.  If a great lie serves his purpose better than a little one, why hesitate between the two, when the sin is equally great in both cases?  The former has this advantage, that, when detected, its enormity may be so great as to enable the person to pass it off as a piece of quizzery, which can never be done with the latter.

Heroic liars, such as the Baron or Major, are a godly race; but those who practise the sin in a small way, and keep fibbing about trifles are a despicable crew, and should be held by the heels, and soused head down-most in a firkin of small beer.

Men who are, or who fancy themselves to be good singers, are great bores.  The airs which they assume in company are most insufferable.  If asked for a song, they affect, with an aspect of the most hypocritical humility, that really they cannot sing—­that their voice is out of order—­that they are hoarse, and so forth; the fellows all the while being most anxious to show forth, only wanting to be pressed, in order to enhance their own importance, and stimulate the curiosity of the company.  Nor is this the worst of the case; for no sooner do they perpetrate one song, than they volunteer a dozen, interlarding