CHAPTER XIX

----What a conjecture was here lost! ----My father in one of his best explanatory moods--in eager pursuit of a metaphysical point into the very regions, where clouds and thick darkness would soon have encompassed it about; --my uncle _Toby_ in one of the finest dispositions for it in the world; --his head like a smoak-jack; ----the funnel unswept, and the ideas whirling round and round about in it, all obfuscated and darkened over with fuliginous matter! --By the tomb-stone of _Lucian_----if it is in being----if not, why then by his ashes! by the ashes of my dear _Rabelais_, and dearer _Cervantes!_------my father and my uncle _Toby’s_ discourse upon TIME and ETERNITY----was a discourse devoutly to be wished for! and the petulancy of my father’s humour, in putting a stop to it as he did, was a robbery of the _Ontologic Treasury_ of such a jewel, as no coalition of great occasions and great men are ever likely to restore to it again.

##