—AND how does your mistress? cried my father, taking the same step over
again from the landing, and calling to _Susannah_, whom he saw passing
by the foot of the stairs with a huge pin-cushion in her hand—how does
your mistress? As well, said _Susannah_, tripping by, but without
looking up, as can be expected.—What a fool am I! said my father,
drawing his leg back again—let things be as they will, brother _Toby_,
’tis ever the precise answer——And how is the child, pray?——No answer.
And where is Dr. _Slop_? added my father, raising his voice aloud, and
looking over the ballusters—_Susannah_ was out of hearing.
Of all the riddles of a married life, said my father, crossing the
landing in order to set his back against the wall, whilst he propounded
it to my uncle _Toby_——of all the puzzling riddles, said he, in a
marriage state,——of which you may trust me, brother _Toby_, there are
more asses loads than all _Job_’s stock of asses could have
carried——there is not one that has more intricacies in it than
this—that from the very moment the mistress of the house is brought to
bed, every female in it, from my lady’s gentlewoman down to the
cinder-wench, becomes an inch taller for it; and give themselves more
airs upon that single inch, than all their other inches put together.
I think rather, replied my uncle _Toby_, that ’tis we who sink an inch
lower.—If I meet but a woman with child—I do it.—’Tis a heavy tax upon
that half of our fellow-creatures, brother _Shandy_, said my uncle
_Toby_—’Tis a piteous burden upon ’em, continued he, shaking his
head—Yes, yes, ’tis a painful thing—said my father, shaking his head
too——but certainly since shaking of heads came into fashion, never did
two heads shake together, in concert, from two such different springs.
God bless / Deuce take ’em all—said my uncle _Toby_ and my father, each
to himself.