This is the best account I am determined to give of the slow progress my
father made in his _Tristra-pædia_; at which (as I said) he was three
years, and something more, indefatigably at work, and, at last, had
scarce completed, by his own reckoning, one half of his undertaking: the
misfortune was, that I was all that time totally neglected and abandoned
to my mother: and what was almost as bad, by the very delay, the first
part of the work, upon which my father had spent the most of his pains,
was rendered entirely useless, ----every day a page or two became of no
consequence.----
----Certainly it was ordained as a scourge upon the pride of human
wisdom, That the wisest of us all should thus outwit ourselves, and
eternally forego our purposes, in the intemperate act of pursuing them.
In short, my father was so long in all his acts of resistance, --or in
other words, --he advanced so very slow with his work, and I began to
live and get forwards at such a rate, that if an event had not happened,
----which, when we get to it, if it can be told with decency, shall not
be concealed a moment from the reader ----I verily believe, I had put by
my father, and left him drawing a sun-dial, for no better purpose than
to be buried underground.
CHAPTER XVII
----’Twas nothing, --I did not lose two drops of blood by it----
----’twas not worth calling in a surgeon, had he lived next door to
us----thousands suffer by choice, what I did by accident. ----Doctor
_Slop_ made ten times more of it, than there was occasion: ----some men
rise, by the art of hanging great weights upon small wires, --and I am
this day (_August_ the 10th, 1761) paying part of the price of this
man’s reputation. ----O ’twould provoke a stone, to see how things are
carried on in this world! ----The chamber-maid had left no ******* ***
under the bed: ----Cannot you contrive, master, quoth _Susannah_,
lifting up the sash with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into
the window-seat with the other, --cannot you manage, my dear, for a
single time, to **** *** ** *** ******?
I was five years old. ----_Susannah_ did not consider that nothing was
well hung in our family, ----so slap came the sash down like lightning
upon us; --Nothing is left, --cried _Susannah_, --nothing is left--for
me, but to run my country.----
My uncle _Toby’s_ house was a much kinder sanctuary; and so _Susannah_
fled to it.
CHAPTER XVIII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account