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 (tho' hobby-horsical) gallantry of my uncle Toby, brought him into perfect good humour with them in an instant.

Generous souls!—God prosper you both, and your mortar-pieces too, quoth my father to himself.

is quiet and hush, cried my father, at least above stairs,—I hear not one foot stirring.—Prithee, Trim, who is in the kitchen? There is no one soul in the kitchen, answered Trim, making a low bow as he spoke, except Dr. Slop.—Confusion! cried my father, (getting up upon his legs a second time)—not one single thing has gone right this day! had I faith in astrology, brother, (which by the bye, my father had)