Talking of the caution necessary to be used in conversation amongst a mixed company, Macklin observed, "Sir, I have experienced to my cost that a man in any situation of life should never be off his guard. It is the fault of the Irish that they are too ready to 'commit' themselves. Now, this never happens with the Scotch:--a Scotchman is always on the look-out; he never lives a moment _extempore_, and that is one great reason why he is so successful in life as we see." Macklin was very intimate with Frank Hayman (at that time one of our best historical painters), and happening to call on him one morning soon after the death of the painter's wife, with whom he (Frank) had lived but on indifferent terms, he found him wrangling with the undertaker about his high charge for the funeral expenses. Macklin listened to the altercation for some time; at last, going up to Hayman--"Come, come, Frank," said he, "this bill is to be sure a little extravagant, but you should pay it, if it were only on account of the respect you owe your wife's memory; for I am sure," he added with the greatest gravity, "she would have paid twice as much for your burial with the greatest gladness, if she had had the opportunity." A notorious egotist one day in a large company, indirectly praising himself for a number of good qualities which it was well known he did not possess, asked Macklin the reason why he should have the singular propensity of interfering in the concerns of others for their benefit, when he so often met with unsuitable returns. "I could tell you, sir," said Macklin. "Ah! well do, then, my good fellow; you are a man of some observation; and--I--a--should be glad of your--a--definition." "Why, then, sir," replied Macklin, "the cause is _impudence_--nothing but stark staring _impudence_!" A gentleman at a public dinner asking him, rather inconsiderately, whether he remembered Mrs Barry the celebrated Irish actress, who died about the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, he stared him in the face with considerable ferocity, and bawled out, "No, sir, nor Harry the Eighth neither!" An Irish dignitary of the church, not remarkable for his veracity, complaining that a tradesman of his parish had called him a liar, Macklin asked what reply he had made him. "I told him," said the bishop, "that a lie was among those things that I _dared_ not commit." "And why, doctor," returned Macklin, with an indescribable sort of comic frown, "why did you give the rascal _so erroneous a notion of your courage_?"