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 —That she is not a woman of science, my father would say,—is her misfortune—but she might ask a question.—

My mother never did.—In short, she went out of the world at least without knowing whether it turned round, or stood still.—My father had officiously told her above a thousand times which way it was,—but she always forgot.

For these reasons a discourse seldom went on much further betwixt them, than a proposition,—a reply, and a rejoinder; at the end of which, it generally took breath for a few minutes, (as in the affair of the breeches) and then went on again.

If he marries, 'twill be the worse for us,—quoth my mother.