s not altogether satisfied that his
foundation was a solid one. My grandfather might have posed him with
another question, but he poked the fire and let him go on.

"Metaphysics, to speak exactly----"

"Ah," interrupted the Schoolmaster, "bring it down to vulgar fractions,
and then we shall understand it."

"'Tis the consideration of immateriality, or the mere spirit and essence
of things."

"Come, come," said Aunt Judy, taking a pinch of snuff, "now I see into
it."

"Thus, man is considered, not in his corporeality, but in his essence or
capability of being; for a man, metaphysically, or to metaphysical
purposes, hath two natures, that of spirituality, and that of
corporeality, which may be considered separate."

"What man?" asked Uncle Tim.

"Why, any man; Malachi there, for example; I may consider him as Malachi
spiritual, or Malachi corporeal."

"That is true," said Malachi, "for when I was in the militia they made
me a sixteenth corporal, and I carried grog to the drummer."

"That is another affair," said the Doctor in continuation; "we speak of
man in his essence; we speak, also, of the essence of locality, the
essence of duration--"

"And essence of peppermint," said Aunt Judy.

"Pooh!" said the Doctor, "the essence I mean is quite a different
essence."

"Something too fine to be dribbled through the worm of a still," said my
grandfather.

"Then I am all in the dark again," rejoined Aunt Judy.

"By the spirit and essence of things I mean things in the abstract."

"And what becomes of a thing when it goes into the abstract?" asked
Uncle Tim.

"Why, it becomes an abstraction."

"There we are again," said Uncle Tim; "but what on earth is an
abstraction?"

"It is a thing that has no matter: that is, it cannot be felt, seen,
heard, smelt, or tasted; it has no substance or solidity; it is neither
large nor small, hot nor cold, long nor short."

"Then what is the long and short of it?" asked the Schoolmaster.

"Abstraction," replied the Doctor.

"Suppose, for instance," said Malachi, "that I had a pitchfork----"

"Ay," said the Doctor, "consider a pitchfork in general; that is,
neither this one nor that one, nor any particular one, but a pitchfork
or pitchforks divested of their materiality--these are things in the
abstract."

"They are things in the hay-mow," said Malachi.

"Pray," said Uncle Tim, "have there been many such things discovered?"

"Discovered!" returned the Doctor, "why,