udy Keturah Titterwell, who could knit stockings "like all
possest," but could not syllogise; Malachi Muggs, our hired man that
drove the oxen; and Isaac Thrasher, the district schoolmaster, who had
dropped in to warm his fingers and get a drink of cider. Something was
under discussion, and my grandfather could make nothing of it; but the
Doctor said it was "metaphysically true."

"Pray, Doctor," said Uncle Tim, "tell me something about metaphysics; I
have often heard of that science, but never for my life could find out
what it was."

"Metaphysics," said the Doctor, "is the science of abstraction."

"I'm no wiser for that explanation," said Uncle Tim.

"It treats," said the Doctor, "of matters most profound and sublime, a
little difficult perhaps for a common intellect or an unschooled
capacity to fathom, but not the less important on that account, to all
living beings."

"What does it teach?" asked the Schoolmaster.

"It is not applied so much to the operation of teaching," answered the
Doctor, "as to that of inquiring; and the chief inquiry is, whether
things are, or whether they are not."

"I don't understand the question," said Uncle Tim, taking the pipe out
of his mouth.

"For example, whether this earth on which we tread," said the Doctor,
giving a heavy stamp on the floor, and setting his foot on the cat's
tail, "whether the earth does really exist, or whether it does not
exist."

"That is a point of considerable consequence to settle," said my
grandfather.

"Especially," added the schoolmaster, "to the holders of real estate."

"Now the earth," continued the Doctor, "may exist--"

"Why, who ever doubted that?" asked Uncle Tim.

"A great many men," said the Doctor, "and some very learned ones."

Uncle Tim stared a moment, and then began to fill his pipe, whistling
the tune of "Heigh! Betty Martin," while the Doctor went on:

"The earth, I say, may exist, although Bishop Berkeley has proved beyond
all possible gainsaying or denial, that it does not exist. The case is
clear; the only difficulty is, to know whether we shall believe it or
not."

"And how," asked Uncle Tim, "is all this to be found out?"

"By digging down to the first principles," answered the Doctor.

"Ay," interrupted Malachi, "there is nothing equal to the spade and
pickaxe."

"That is true," said my grandfather, going on in Malachi's way, "'tis by
digging for the foundation, that we shall find out whether the world
exists