THO’ my father persisted in not going on with the discourse—yet he
could not get my uncle _Toby_’s smoke-jack out of his head—piqued as he
was at first with it;—there was something in the comparison at the
bottom, which hit his fancy; for which purpose, resting his elbow upon
the table, and reclining the right side of his head upon the palm of
his hand——but looking first stedfastly in the fire——he began to commune
with himself, and philosophize about it: but his spirits being wore out
with the fatigues of investigating new tracts, and the constant
exertion of his faculties upon that variety of subjects which had taken
their turn in the discourse——the idea of the smoke jack soon turned all
his ideas upside down—so that he fell asleep almost before he knew what
he was about.
As for my uncle _Toby_, his smoke-jack had not made a dozen
revolutions, before he fell asleep also.——Peace be with them both!——Dr.
_Slop_ is engaged with the midwife and my mother above stairs.——_Trim_
is busy in turning an old pair of jack-boots into a couple of mortars,
to be employed in the siege of _Messina_ next summer—and is this
instant boring the touch-holes with the point of a hot poker.——All my
heroes are off my hands;—’tis the first time I have had a moment to
spare—and I’ll make use of it, and write my preface.