CHAPTER XXXVIII

To conceive this right, --call for pen and ink--here’s paper ready to your hand. ----Sit down, Sir, paint her to your own mind----as like your mistress as you can----as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you--’tis all one to me----please but your own fancy in it.

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------Was ever any thing in Nature so sweet! --so exquisite!

----Then, dear Sir, how could my uncle _Toby_ resist it?

Thrice happy book! thou wilt have one page, at least, within thy covers, which MALICE will not blacken, and which IGNORANCE cannot misrepresent.

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