——O Tristram! Tristram! cried Jenny.

O Jenny! Jenny! replied I, and so went on with the twelfth chapter.

[ CHAPTER XII]

——“Not touch it for the world,” did I say——

Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!

[ CHAPTER XIII]

Which shows, let your reverences and worships say what you will of it (for as for thinking——all who do think—think pretty much alike both upon it and other matters)——Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most

Agitating
Bewitching
Confounded
Devilish affairs of life—the most
Extravagant
Futilitous
Galligaskinish
Handy-dandyish
Iracundulous (there is no K to it) and
Lyrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most
M isgiving
Ninnyhammering
Obstipating
Pragmatical
Stridulous

R idiculous—though by the bye the R should have gone first—But in short ’tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle Toby upon the close of a long dissertation upon the subject——“You can scarce,” said he, “combine two ideas together upon it, brother Toby, without an hypallage”——What’s that? cried my uncle Toby.

The cart before the horse, replied my father——