Of all the tracts my father was at the pains to procure and study in support of his hypothesis, there was not any one wherein he felt a more cruel disappointment at first, than in the celebrated dialogue between _Pamphagus_ and _Cocles_, written by the chaste pen of the great and venerable _Erasmus_, upon the various uses and seasonable applications of long noses. ------Now don't let Satan, my dear girl, in this chapter, take advantage of any one spot of rising ground to get astride of your imagination, if you can any ways help it; or if he is so nimble as to slip on--let me beg of you, like an unback'd filly, _to frisk it, to squirt it, to jump it, to rear it, to bound it--and to kick it, with long kicks and short kicks_, till, like _Tickletoby's_ mare, you break a strap or a crupper and throw his worship into the dirt. --You need not kill him.--
--And pray who was _Tickletoby's_ mare? --'tis just as discreditable and unscholarlike a question, Sir, as to have asked what year (_ab. urb. con._) the second Punic war broke out. --Who was _Tickletoby's_ mare? ----Read, read, read, read, my unlearned reader! read--or by the knowledge of the great saint _Paraleipomenon_ --I tell you before-hand, you had better throw down the book at once; for without _much reading_, by which your reverence knows I mean _much knowledge_, you will no more be able to penetrate the moral of the next marbled page (motly emblem of my work!) than the world with all its sagacity has been able to unravel the many opinions, transactions, and truths which still lie mystically hid under the dark veil of the black one.
[Illustration]
Of all the tracts my father studied in support of his hypothesis, there was not one which disappointed him more at first, than the celebrated dialogue between Pamphagus and Cocles, written by the great Erasmus, upon the various uses of long noses. - Now don't let Satan, my dear girl, get astride of your imagination: if he is so nimble as to slip on - let me beg you to frisk, jump, and kick like Tickletoby's mare till you throw his worship into the dirt.
- And pray who was Tickletoby's mare?
'Tis as unscholarlike a question, Sir, as to have asked what year the second Punic war broke out. Read, read, read, my unlearned reader! - or by the knowledge of the great saint Paraleipomenon, you had better throw down this book at once; for without much reading and knowledge, you will no more be able to penetrate the moral of the next marbled page (motley emblem of my work!) than the world with all its wisdom has been able to unravel the many truths which still lie mystically hid under the dark veil of the black one.
Book 3 - Chapter 36