"I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim, taking the pipe out of his mouth.
"For example, whether this earth on which we tread," said the Doctor, giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and setting his foot on the cat's tail, "whether the earth does really exist, or whether it does not exist."
"That is a point of considerable consequence to settle," said my grandfather.
"Especially," added the schoolmaster, "to the holders of real estate."
"Now the earth," continued the Doctor, "may exist—"
"Why, who ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.
"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very learned ones."
Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill his pipe, whistling the tune of "Heigh! Betty Martin," while the Doctor went on:
"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has proved beyond all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does not exist. The case is clear; the only difficulty is, to know whether we shall believe it or not."
"And how," asked Uncle Tim, "is all this to be found out?"