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 kinds of bodies, light may, or may not be struck out, to carry the arts and sciences up to perfection.—Heaven! thou knowest how I love them;—thou knowest the secrets of my heart, and that I would this moment give my shift—Thou art a fool, Shandy, says Eugenius,—for thou hast but a dozen in the world,—and 'twill break thy set.

No matter for that, Eugenius; I would give the shirt off my back to be burnt into tinder, were it only to satisfy one feverish enquirer, how many sparks at one good stroke, a good flint and steel could strike into the tail of it.—Think ye not that in striking these in,—he might, peradventure, strike something out? as sure as a gun.

—But this project, by the bye.

The corporal sat up the best part of the night in bringing his to perfection;