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then that, in all its possible directions and foreshortenings,—he would have concluded my uncle Toby had got hold of the medius terminus; and was syllogizing and measuring with it the truth of each hypothesis of long noses, in order as my father laid them before him. This by the bye, was more than my father wanted,—his aim in all the pains he was at in these philosophic lectures,—was to enable my uncle Toby not to discuss,—but comprehend—to hold the grains and scruples of learning,—not to weigh them.—My uncle Toby, as you will read in the next chapter, did neither the one or the other.
CHAP.
