XVIII
It is two hours, and ten minutesвБ†вАФand no moreвБ†вАФcried my father, looking at his watch, since Dr.¬†Slop and Obadiah arrivedвБ†вАФand I know not how it happens, brother TobyвБ†вАФbut to my imagination it seems almost an age.
вЄЇвБ†HereвБ†вАФpray, Sir, take hold of my capвБ†вАФnay, take the bell along with it, and my pantoufles too.
Now, Sir, they are all at your service; and I freely make you a present of вАЩem, on condition you give me all your attention to this chapter.
Though my father said, вАЬhe knew not how it happenвАЩd,вАЭвБ†вАФyet he knew very well how it happenвАЩd;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and at the instant he spoke it, was predetermined in his mind to give my uncle Toby a clear account of the matter by a metaphysical dissertation upon the subject of duration and its simple modes, in order to show my uncle Toby by what mechanism and mensurations in the brain it came to pass, that the rapid succession of their ideas, and the eternal scampering of the discourse from one thing to another, since Dr.¬†Slop had come into the room, had lengthened out so short a period to so inconceivable an extent.вБ†вЄЇвАЬI know not how it happensвБ†вАФcried my father,вБ†вАФbut it seems an age.вАЭ
вЄЇвАЩTis owing entirely, quoth my uncle Toby, to the succession of our ideas.
My father, who had an itch, in common with all philosophers, of reasoning upon everything which happened, and accounting for it tooвБ†вАФproposed infinite pleasure to himself in this, of the succession of ideas, and had not the least apprehension of having it snatchвАЩd out of his hands by my uncle Toby, who (honest man!) generally took everything as it happened;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and who, of all things in the world, troubled his brain the least with abstruse thinking;вБ†вАФthe ideas of time and spaceвБ†вАФor how we came by those ideasвБ†вАФor of what stuff they were madeвБ†вЄЇвБ†or whether they were born with usвБ†вАФor we picked them up afterwards as we went alongвБ†вАФor whether we did it in frocksвБ†вЄЇвБ†or not till we had got into breechesвБ†вАФwith a thousand other inquiries and disputes about infinity, prescience, liberty, necessity, and so forth, upon whose desperate and unconquerable theories so many fine heads have been turned and crackedвБ†вЄЇвБ†never did my uncle TobyвАЩs the least injury at all; my father knew itвБ†вАФand was no less surprised than he was disappointed, with my uncleвАЩs fortuitous solution.
Do you understand the theory of that affair? replied my father.
Not I, quoth my uncle.
вАФBut you have some ideas, said my father, of what you talk about?вБ†вАФ
No more than my horse, replied my uncle Toby.
Gracious heaven! cried my father, looking upwards, and clasping his two hands togetherвБ†вЄЇвБ†there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother TobyвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwere almost a pity to exchange it for a knowledge.вБ†вАФBut IвАЩll tell thee.вБ†вЄЇвБ†
To understand what time is aright, without which we never can comprehend infinity, insomuch as one is a portion of the otherвБ†вЄЇвБ†we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea it is we have of duration, so as to give a satisfactory account how we came by it.вБ†вЄЇвБ†What is that to anybody? quoth my uncle Toby. For if you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind, continued my father, and observe attentively, you will perceive, brother, that whilst you and I are talking together, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, or whilst we receive successively ideas in our minds, we know that we do exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing coexisting with our thinkingвБ†вЄЇвБ†and so according to that preconceivedвБ†вЄїYou puzzle me to death, cried my uncle Toby.
вЄївАЩTis owing to this, replied my father, that in our computations of time, we are so used to minutes, hours, weeks, and monthsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and of clocks (I wish there was not a clock in the kingdom) to measure out their several portions to us, and to those who belong to usвБ†вЄЇвБ†that вАЩtwill be well, if in time to come, the succession of our ideas be of any use or service to us at all.
Now, whether we observe it or no, continued my father, in every sound manвАЩs head, there is a regular succession of ideas of one sort or other, which follow each other in train just likeвБ†вЄїA train of artillery? said my uncle TobyвБ†вЄЇвБ†A train of a fiddlestick!вБ†вАФquoth my fatherвБ†вАФwhich follow and succeed one another in our minds at certain distances, just like the images in the inside of a lantern turned round by the heat of a candle.вБ†вАФI declare, quoth my uncle Toby, mine are more like a smoak-jack.вБ†вЄїThen, brother Toby, I have nothing more to say to you upon that subject, said my father.