It is two hours, and ten minutes--and no more--cried my father, looking at his watch, since Dr. _Slop_ and _Obadiah_ arrived--and I know not how it happens, brother _Toby_--but to my imagination it seems almost an age.
----Here--pray, Sir, take hold of my cap--nay, 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 'em, on condition you give me all your attention to this chapter.
Though my father said, "_he knew not how it happen'd_," --yet he knew very well how it happen'd; ----and at the instant he spoke it, was pre-determined 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 shew 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. ----"I know not how it happens--cried my father, --but it seems an age."
----'Tis 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 too--proposed infinite pleasure to himself in this, of the succession of ideas, and had not the least apprehension of having it snatch'd out of his hands by my uncle _Toby_, who (honest man!) generally took everything as it happened; ----and who, of all things in the world, troubled his brain the least with abstruse thinking; --the ideas of time and space--or how we came by those ideas--or of what stuff they were made----or whether they were born with us--or we picked them up afterwards as we went along--or whether we did it in frocks----or not till we had got into breeches--with 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 cracked----never did my uncle _Toby's_ the least injury at all; my father knew it--and was no less surprized than he was disappointed, with my uncle's fortuitous solution.
Do you understand the theory of that affair? replied my father.

'It is two hours, and ten minutes,' cried my father, looking at his watch, 'since Dr. Slop and Obadiah arrived - and I know not how it happens, brother Toby, but to my imagination it seems an age.'
- Here - pray, Sir, take my cap, and my bell, and my slippers. I freely make you a present of 'em, on condition you give me all your attention in this chapter.
Though my father said, 'he knew not how it happened,' yet he knew very well how it happened; - and at the instant he spoke it, decided to give my uncle Toby a clear account of the matter by a metaphysical dissertation upon the duration of time and its modes, in order to show my uncle by what mechanism in the brain it happened that the rapid succession of their ideas, and the eternal scampering of the discussion from one thing to another, had lengthened out so short a period to so great an extent.
- 'I know not how it happens,' cried my father, 'but it seems an age.'
''Tis owing entirely,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'to the succession of our ideas.'
My father had proposed infinite pleasure to himself in this argument of the succession of ideas, and had not the least apprehension of having it snatched out of his hands by my uncle Toby, who (honest man!) generally never troubled his brain with abstruse ideas of time and space. Theories about Infinity, Prescience, Liberty, Necessity, and so forth, which have cracked so many fine heads, never did my uncle Toby's head the least injury. My father knew it, and was no less surprised than he was disappointed with my uncle's answer.
'Do you understand the theory of that?' he asked.
