The first thing which entered my father's head, after affairs were a little settled in the family, and _Susannah_ had got possession of my mother's green sattin night-gown, --was to sit down coolly, after the example of _Xenophon_, and write a TRISTRA-pdia, or system of education for me; collecting first for that purpose his own scattered thoughts, counsels, and notions; and binding them together, so as to form an INSTITUTE for the government of my childhood and adolescence. I was my father's last stake--he had lost my brother _Bobby_ entirely, --he had lost, by his own computation, full three-fourths of me--that is, he had been unfortunate in his three first great casts for me--my geniture, nose, and name, --there was but this one left; and accordingly my father gave himself up to it with as much devotion as ever my uncle _Toby_ had done to his doctrine of projectils. --The difference between them was, that my uncle _Toby_ drew his whole knowledge of projectils from _Nicholas Tartaglia_ --My father spun his, every thread of it, out of his own brain, --or reeled and cross-twisted what all other spinners and spinsters had spun before him, that 'twas pretty near the same torture to him.

The first thing which entered my father's head, after affairs were a little settled in the family, and Susannah had got possession of my mother's green satin night-gown - was to sit down coolly, after Xenophon's example, and write a Tristra-paedia, or system of education for me; collecting his scattered thoughts, and binding them together, so as to form an Institute for the government of my childhood and adolescence.
I was my father's last stake - he had lost my brother Bobby entirely; he had lost, he reckoned, full three-fourths of me - that is, he had been unfortunate in his three first great casts of the dice for me - my begetting, my nose, and my name - but there was this one left.
Accordingly my father gave himself up to it with as much devotion as ever my uncle Toby gave to his study of projectiles. The difference was, that my uncle Toby drew his knowledge of projectiles from Nicholas Tartaglia. My father spun his knowledge, every thread of it, out of his own brain - or reeled and twisted what all other spinners had spun before him, which was pretty near the same thing.
