GREAT wits jump: for the moment Dr. _Slop_ cast his eyes upon his bag
(which he had not done till the dispute with my uncle _Toby_ about
mid-wifery put him in mind of it)—the very same thought occurred.—’Tis
God’s mercy, quoth he (to himself) that Mrs. _Shandy_ has had so bad a
time of it,——else she might have been brought to bed seven times told,
before one half of these knots could have got untied.——But here you
must distinguish—the thought floated only in Dr. _Slop_’s mind, without
sail or ballast to it, as a simple proposition; millions of which, as
your worship knows, are every day swimming quietly in the middle of the
thin juice of a man’s understanding, without being carried backwards or
forwards, till some little gusts of passion or interest drive them to
one side.
A sudden trampling in the room above, near my mother’s bed, did the
proposition the very service I am speaking of. By all that’s
unfortunate, quoth Dr. _Slop_, unless I make haste, the thing will
actually befall me as it is.