XVII
When the misfortune of my Nose fell so heavily upon my fatherвАЩs head;вБ†вАФthe reader remembers that he walked instantly upstairs, and cast himself down upon his bed; and from hence, unless he has a great insight into human nature, he will be apt to expect a rotation of the same ascending and descending movements from him, upon his misfortune of my Name;вБ†вЄЇвБ†no.
The different weight, dear SirвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay even the different package of two vexations of the same weightвБ†вЄЇвБ†makes a very wide difference in our manner of bearing and getting through with them.вБ†вЄЇвБ†It is not half an hour ago, when (in the great hurry and precipitation of a poor devilвАЩs writing for daily bread) I threw a fair sheet, which I had just finished, and carefully wrote out, slap into the fire, instead of the foul one.
Instantly I snatchвАЩd off my wig, and threw it perpendicularly, with all imaginable violence, up to the top of the roomвБ†вАФindeed I caught it as it fellвБ†вЄЇвБ†but there was an end of the matter; nor do I think anything else in Nature would have given such immediate ease: She, dear Goddess, by an instantaneous impulse, in all provoking cases, determines us to a sally of this or that memberвБ†вАФor else she thrusts us into this or that place or posture of body, we know not whyвБ†вЄЇвБ†But mark, madam, we live amongst riddles and mysteriesвБ†вЄЇвБ†the most obvious things, which come in our way, have dark sides, which the quickest sight cannot penetrate into; and even the clearest and most exalted understandings amongst us find ourselves puzzled and at a loss in almost every cranny of natureвАЩs works: so that this, like a thousand other things, falls out for us in a way, which though we cannot reason upon itвБ†вАФyet we find the good of it, may it please your reverences and your worshipsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and thatвАЩs enough for us.
Now, my father could not lie down with this affliction for his lifeвБ†вЄЇвБ†nor could he carry it upstairs like the otherвБ†вАФhe walked composedly out with it to the fishpond.
Had my father leaned his head upon his hand, and reasoned an hour which way to have goneвБ†вЄїreason, with all her force, could not have directed him to anything like it: there is something, Sir, in fishpondsвБ†вЄЇвБ†but what it is, I leave to system-builders and fishpond-diggers betwixt вАЩem to find outвБ†вАФbut there is something, under the first disorderly transport of the humours, so unaccountably becalming in an orderly and a sober walk towards one of them, that I have often wondered that neither Pythagoras, nor Plato, nor Solon, nor Lycurgus, nor Muhammad, nor any one of your noted lawgivers, ever gave order about them.