Chapter C: H a P. XXXV

NOW as widow _Wadman_ did love my uncle _Toby_——and my uncle _Toby_ did not love widow _Wadman_, there was nothing for widow _Wadman_ to do, but to go on and love my uncle _Toby_——or let it alone.

Widow _Wadman_ would do neither the one or the other.

——Gracious heaven!——but I forget I am a little of her temper myself; for whenever it so falls out, which it sometimes does about the equinoxes, that an earthly goddess is so much this, and that, and t’other, that I cannot eat my breakfast for her——and that she careth not three halfpence whether I eat my breakfast or no——

——Curse on her! and so I send her to _Tartary_, and from _Tartary_ to _Terra del Fuogo_, and so on to the devil: in short, there is not an infernal nitch where I do not take her divinityship and stick it.

But as the heart is tender, and the passions in these tides ebb and flow ten times in a minute, I instantly bring her back again; and as I do all things in extremes, I place her in the very center of the milky-way——

Brightest of stars! thou wilt shed thy influence upon some one——

——The duce take her and her influence too——for at that word I lose all patience——much good may it do him!——By all that is hirsute and gashly! I cry, taking off my furr’d cap, and twisting it round my finger——I would not give sixpence for a dozen such!

——But ’tis an excellent cap too (putting it upon my head, and pressing it close to my ears)—and warm—and soft; especially if you stroke it the right way—but alas! that will never be my luck——(so here my philosophy is shipwreck’d again.)

——No; I shall never have a finger in the pye (so here I break my metaphor)——

Crust and Crumb

Inside and out

Top and bottom——I detest it, I hate it, I repudiate it——I’m sick at the sight of it——

’Tis all pepper,
garlick,
speak-punctuation:,
salt, and
devil’s dung——by the great arch-cooks of cooks, who does nothing,
I think, from morning to night, but sit down by the fire-side and
invent inflammatory dishes for us, I would not touch it for the world——

——_O Tristram! Tristram!_ cried _Jenny._

_O Jenny! Jenny!_ replied I, and so went on with the thirty-sixth chapter.

C H A P. XXXVI

——“Not touch it for the world,” did I say——

Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!