XXXVII

done the seeds of all other knowledge⁠⸻so that he had got out his penknife, and was trying experiments upon the sentence, to see if he could not scratch some better sense into it.⁠⸺⁠I’ve got within a single letter, brother Toby , cried my father, of Erasmus his mystic meaning.⁠—You are near enough, brother, replied my uncle, in all conscience.⁠⸻Pshaw! cried my father, scratching on⁠⸺⁠I might as well be seven miles off.⁠—I’ve done it⁠—said my father, snapping his fingers⁠—See, my dear brother Toby , how I have mended the sense.⁠⸺⁠But you have marr’d a word, replied my uncle Toby .⁠⸺⁠My father put on his spectacles⁠⸺⁠bit his lip⁠⸻and tore out the leaf in a passion.