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CHAP. VII.
Tho' my father was a good natural philosopher,—yet he was something of a moral philosopher too; for which reason, when his tobacco-pipe snapp'd short in the middle,—he had nothing to do,—as such,—but to have taken hold of the two pieces, and thrown them gently upon the back of the fire.—He did no such thing;—he threw them with all the violence in the world;—and, to give the action still more emphasis,—he started up upon both his legs to do it.
This looked something like heat;—and the manner of his reply to what my uncle Toby was saying, prov'd it was so.
"Not
