Maxims of ODoherty.

Entroduction.

I HAVE often thought that the world loses much valuable information from the laziness or diffidence of people, who have it in their power to communicate facts and observations resulting from their own experience, and yet neglect doing so. The idlest or most unobservant has seen, heard, or thought something, which might conduce to the general stock of knowledge. A single remark may throw light on a doubtful or a knotty point-a solitary fact, observed by a careless individual, and which may have escaped the notice of other observers, however acute, may suffice to upset, or to establish, a theory.

For my part, my life has been abundantly checkered. I have mixed in society of all kinds, high and low. I have read much, wrote much, and thought a little; - very little, it is true, but still, more than nine tenths of people who write books. I am still in the prime of my life, and, I believe, in the vigor of my intellect. I intend, therefore, to write down as they occur to me,

*The Maxims of Odoherty appeared in Blackwood's Magazine, in 1824, shortly after Dr. Maginn had changed his residence from Cork to London. They were very popular, nearly all the provincial journals quoting largely from them. No. I. appeared in May, No. II. in June, and No. III. in September, 1824. They were collected and published, in book form, by Messrs. Blackwood, in 1849- -seven years after Maginn's death. The strong common sense, mingled with shrewdness and keen knowledge of the world, which characterize them, has rarely been rivalled. The late Dr. Macnish attempted it, in his "Book of Aphorisms" (annotated, very ludicrously, by Maginn), but by no means hit the white.' Maginn was fond of referring to and quoting from his “Maxims," not only in subsequent articles, but in conversation.-M.

without binding myself to any order, whether expressed or understood, any general reflections that may occur on men and manners, on the modes of thought and action, on the hopes, fears, wishes, doubts, loves, and hatreds, of mankind. It is probable that what I shall write will not be worth reading. I can not help that. All my bargain is, that I shall give genuine reflection, and narrate nothing but what I have seen and heard.

I was one day in the Salopian Coffeehouse, near CharingCross,* taking a bowl of ox-tail soup, when a venerable and imposing-looking gentleman came in. The coffee-room of that house is small, and it so happened that every box was occupied-that is, had a gentleman or two in it. The elderly gentleman looked about a little confused, and every body in the room gazed at him, without offering him a share of any table. Such is the politeness and affability of the English. I instantly rose, and requested him to be seated opposite me. He complied with a bow; and, after he had ordered what he wanted, we fell into conversation. He was a thoughtful man, who delivered his sentences in a weighty and well-considered style. He did not say much, but what he did say was marked with the impress of thought. I found, indeed, that he was a man of only one reflection; but that was a great one. He cast his eye solemnly over the morning paper, which happened to contain the announcement of many bankruptcies. This struck the key-note of his one reflection. "Sir,” said he to me, laying down the paper, and taking his spoon cautiously between his fingers, without making any attempt to lift it to his mouth, “ Sir, I have now lived in this world sixty-three years, through at least forty of which I have not been a careless or inattentive spectator of what has been passing around me; and I have uniformly found, when a man lives annually on a sum less than his year's income-say, five hundred, or five thousand, or five hundred thousand poundsfor the sum makes no difference-that that man's accounts are

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* A celebrated coffeehouse, close to Drummond's Bank, which still maintains its reputation. When Dr. Buckland, the geologist, now Dean of Westminster, was Canon of Christ's Church, Oxford, used to visit London, he invariably lived at the Salopian, and his example induced many of "the dons" of Oxford to frequent the house.-M.

clear at the end of the twelvemonth, and that he does not run into debt. On the contrary, I have uniformly found, when a man lives annually on a sum more than his year's income-say, five hundred, five thousand, or five hundred thousand poundsfor the sum makes no difference—that that man's accounts are liable, at the end of the twelvemonth, to get into confusion, and that it must end by his running into debt. Believe me, sir, that such is the result of my forty and odd years' experience in the world."

The oracular gravity in which this sentence was delivered— for he paused between every word, I might say between every syllable, and kept the uplifted spoon all the time in suspense between the plate of mulligatawny and his lip, which did not receive the savoury contents until the last syllable died away struck me with peculiar emphasis, and I puzzled my brain to draw out, if possible, something equally profound to give in return. Accordingly, after looking straight across at him for a minute, with my head firmly imbedded on my hands, while my elbows rested on the table, I addressed him thus: “ Sir," said I, "I have only lived thirty-three years in the world, and can not, of course, boast of the vast experience which you have had; neither have my reasoning faculties been exerted so laboriously as yours appear to have been; but from twenty years' consideration, I can assure you that I have observed it as a general rule, admitting of no exception, and thereby in itself forming an exception to a general rule, that if a man walks through Piccadilly, or the Strand, or Oxford street- for the street makes no difference, provided it be of sufficient length-without an umbrella or other defence against a shower, during a heavy fall of rain, he is inevitably wet; while, on the contrary, if a man walks through Piccadilly, or the Strand, or Oxford street-for the street makes no difference-during fine dry weather, he runs no chance whatever of being wet to the skin. Believe me, sir, that such is the result of my twenty and odd years' experience in the world."

The elderly gentleman had by this time finished his soup. "Sir," said he, "I agree with you. I like to hear rational conversation. Be so good as to give me your card. Here is mine.

name an early day to dine with me. Waiter, what's to pay? Will you, sir, try my snuff? I take thirty-seven. I wish you, sir, a good morning." So saying, he quitted the box, leaving me to ruminate upon the discovery made by a man who had lived sixty-three years in the world, and had observed its ways for forty and odd years of that period. I thought with myself, that I, too, if I set about it seriously to reflect, might perhaps come to something as striking and original; and have accordingly set about this little work, which I dedicate to your kindness, gentle reader. If from it you can extract even one observation conducive toward making you a better or a happier man, the end has been answered which was proposed to himself by,

Gentle reader,

́Your most obedient and

Very humble servant,

MORGAN ODOHERTY.

SALOPIAN, May 1, 1824, P. T. T.

Maxim First.

If you intend to drink much after dinner, never drink much at dinner, and particularly avoid mixing wines. If you begin with Sauterne, for example, stick to Sauterne, though, on the whole, red wines are best. Avoid malt liquor most cautiously; for nothing is so apt to get into the head unawares, or, what is almost as bad, to fill the stomach with wind. Champagne, on the latter account, is bad. Port, three glasses at dinclaret, three bottles after: behold the fair proportion, the most excellent wines.

ner

and

Maxim Second.

It is laid down in fashionable life, that you must drink champagne after white cheeses -- water after red. This is mere nonThe best thing to be drunk after cheese is strong ale, for the taste is more coherent. We should always take our

sense:

ideas of those things from the most constant practitioners. Now, you never hear of a drayman, who lives almost entirely on bread and cheese, thinking of washing it down with water, far less with champagne.* He knows what is better. As for champagne, there is a reason against drinking it after cheese, which I could give if it were cleanly. It is not so, and therefore I am silent concerning it; but it is true.

N. B. According to apophthegm the first, ale is to be avoided in case a wet night is expected-as should cheese also. I recommend ale only when there is no chance of a man's getting a skinful.

Maxim Third.

A PUNSTER, during dinner, is a most inconvenient animal. He should, therefore, be immediately discomfited. The art of discomfiting a punster is this: Pretend to be deaf; and after he has committed his pun, and just before he expects people to laugh at it, beg his pardon, and request him to repeat it again. After you have made him do this three times, say, O! that is a pun, I believe. I never knew a punster venture a third exhibition under similar treatment. It requires a little nicety, so as to make him repeat it in proper time. If well done, the company laugh at the punster, and then he is ruined for ever.

Maxim Fourth.

A FINE singer, after dinner, is a still greater bore, for he stops the wine. This we pardon in a slang or drinking song, for such things serve as shoeing-horns to draw on more bottles, by jollifying your host; so that, though the supply may be slow, it is more copious in the end; but a fine-song-singer only serves to put people in mind of tea. You, therefore, not only lose the circulation of the bottle while he is getting through his crotchets and quavers, but he actually tends to cut off the final supply. He, then, by all means is to be discouraged. These fellows are are always most insufferably conceited, so that it is not very easy to keep them down-but it is possible, nevertheless. One

* How could a drayman obtain champagne? — M.