CHAPTER XXV

An eye is for all the world exactly like a cannon, in this respect; That it is not so much the eye or the cannon, in themselves, as it is the carriage of the eye----and the carriage of the cannon, by which both the one and the other are enabled to do so much execution. I don’t think the comparison a bad one; However, as ’tis made and placed at the head of the chapter, as much for use as ornament, all I desire in return is, that whenever I speak of Mrs. _Wadman’s_ eyes (except once in the next period), that you keep it in your fancy.

I protest, Madam, said my uncle _Toby_, I can see nothing whatever in your eye.

It is not in the white; said Mrs. _Wadman_: my uncle _Toby_ look’d with might and main into the pupil----

Now of all the eyes which ever were created----from your own, Madam, up to those of _Venus_ herself, which certainly were as venereal a pair of eyes as ever stood in a head----there never was an eye of them all, so fitted to rob my uncle _Toby_ of his repose, as the very eye, at which he was looking----it was not, Madam, a rolling eye----a romping or a wanton one--nor was it an eye sparkling--petulant or imperious--of high claims and terrifying exactions, which would have curdled at once that milk of human nature, of which my uncle _Toby_ was made up----but ’twas an eye full of gentle salutations----and soft responses----speaking---- not like the trumpet stop of some ill-made organ, in which many an eye I talk to, holds coarse converse----but whispering soft----like the last low accent of an expiring saint---- “How can you live comfortless, captain _Shandy_, and alone, without a bosom to lean your head on----or trust your cares to?”

It was an eye----

But I shall be in love with it myself, if I say another word about it.

----It did my uncle _Toby’s_ business.

##