The city of _Limerick_, the siege of which was begun under his majesty king _William_ himself, the year after I went into the army--lies, an' please your honours, in the middle of a devilish wet, swampy country. --'Tis quite surrounded, said my uncle _Toby_, with the _Shannon_, and is, by its situation, one of the strongest fortified places in _Ireland_.----
I think this is a new fashion, quoth Dr. _Slop_, of beginning a medical lecture. --'Tis all true, answered _Trim_. --Then I wish the faculty would follow the cut of it, said _Yorick_. --'Tis all cut through, an' please your reverence, said the corporal, with drains and bogs; and besides, there was such a quantity of rain fell during the siege, the whole country was like a puddle, --'twas that, and nothing else, which brought on the flux, and which had like to have killed both his honour and myself; now there was no such thing, after the first ten days, continued the corporal, for a soldier to lie dry in his tent, without cutting a ditch round it, to draw off the water; --nor was that enough, for those who could afford it, as his honour could, without setting fire every night to a pewter dish full of brandy, which took off the damp of the air, and made the inside of the tent as warm as a stove.------
And what conclusion dost thou draw, corporal _Trim_, cried my father, from all these premises?
I infer, an' please your worship, replied _Trim_, that the radical moisture is nothing in the world but ditch-water--and that the radical heat, of those who can go to the expence of it, is burnt brandy, --the radical heat and moisture of a private man, an' please your honour, is nothing but ditch-water--and a dram of geneva----and give us but enough of it, with a pipe of tobacco, to give us spirits, and drive away the vapours--we know not what it is to fear death.
I am at a loss, Captain _Shandy_, quoth Dr. _Slop_, to determine in which branch of learning your servant shines most, whether in physiology or divinity. --_Slop_ had not forgot _Trim's_ comment upon the sermon.--

'The city of Limerick, the siege of which was begun under his majesty king William, the year after I entered the army, lies in the middle of a devilish wet, swampy country.'
''Tis quite surrounded,' said my uncle Toby, 'with the River Shannon, and is one of the strongest fortified places in Ireland.'
'I think this is a new fashion,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'of beginning a medical lecture.'
''Tis all cut through,' said the corporal, 'with drains and bogs; and there was such a quantity of rain fell during the siege, the whole country was like a puddle; 'twas that which brought on the dysentery, which almost killed us both. A soldier could not lie dry in his tent, without cutting a ditch round it, to draw off the water; and those who could afford it, as his honour could, set fire every night to a dish full of brandy, which took off the damp of the air, and made the inside of the tent as warm as a stove.'
'And what conclusion dost thou draw,' cried my father, 'from all this?'
'I infer, an' please your worship,' replied Trim, 'that the radical moisture is nothing but ditch-water - and that the radical heat, of those who can afford it, is burnt brandy; - for a private soldier, 'tis nothing but ditch-water and a dram of gin - and give us but enough of it, with a pipe of tobacco, to drive away the vapours - we know not what it is to fear death.'
'I am at a loss, Captain Shandy,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'to decide whether your servant shines most in physiology or divinity.' Slop had not forgot Trim's comment on the sermon.
