"--What prodigious armies you had in _Flanders!_"----
Brother _Toby_, replied my father, taking his wig from off his head with his right hand, and with his _left_ pulling out a striped _India_ handkerchief from his right coat pocket, in order to rub his head, as he argued the point with my uncle _Toby_.----
----Now, in this I think my father was much to blame; and I will give you my reasons for it.
Matters of no more seeming consequence in themselves than, "_Whether my father should have taken off his wig with his right hand or with his left_," ----have divided the greatest kingdoms, and made the crowns of the monarchs who governed them, to totter upon their heads. ----But need I tell you, Sir, that the circumstances with which every thing in this world is begirt, give every thing in this world its size and shape! --and by tightening it, or relaxing it, this way or that, make the thing to be, what it is--great--little--good--bad--indifferent or not indifferent, just as the case happens?
As my father's _India_ handkerchief was in his right coat pocket, he should by no means have suffered his right hand to have got engaged: on the contrary, instead of taking off his wig with it, as he did, he ought to have committed that entirely to the left; and then, when the natural exigency my father was under of rubbing his head, called out for his handkerchief, he would have had nothing in the world to have done, but to have put his right hand into his right coat pocket and taken it out; ----which he might have done without any violence, or the least ungraceful twist in any one tendon or muscle of his whole body
In this case, (unless, indeed, my father had been resolved to make a fool of himself by holding the wig stiff in his left hand----or by making some nonsensical angle or other at his elbow-joint, or arm-pit)--his whole attitude had been easy--natural--unforced: _Reynolds_ himself, as great and gracefully as he paints, might have painted him as he sat.
Now as my father managed this matter, --consider what a devil of a figure my father made of himself.

'- What prodigious armies you had in Flanders!' replied my father, taking his wig off his head with his right hand, and with his left hand pulling out a striped handkerchief from his right coat pocket, in order to rub his head.
Now, in this I think my father was much to blame; and I will tell you why.
Matters of no more seeming consequence than 'Whether my father should have taken off his wig with his right hand or his left,' have divided the greatest kingdoms, and made their monarchs' crowns totter upon their heads.
As my father's handkerchief was in his right coat pocket, he should not have taken off his wig with his right hand, but with his left; and then, when the rubbing of his head called for his handkerchief, he could have put his right hand into his right coat pocket to take it out without the least violent or ungraceful twist of his body.
In this case, (unless my father had been resolved to make a fool of himself by bending his elbow at some nonsensical angle) - his whole attitude would have been easy - natural - unforced: Reynolds himself might have painted him as he sat.
Now, consider what a devil of a figure my father made of himself.
