When the letter was brought into the parlour, which contained the news of my brother's death, my father had got forwards again upon his journey to within a stride of the compasses of the very same stage of _Nevers_. ----By your leave, Mons. _Sanson_, cried my father, striking the point of his compasses through _Nevers_ into the table--and nodding to my uncle _Toby_ to see what was in the letter--twice of one night, is too much for an _English_ gentleman and his son, Mons. _Sanson_, to be turned back from so lousy a town as _Nevers_ --What think'st thou, _Toby?_ added my father in a sprightly tone. ----Unless it be a garrison town, said my uncle _Toby_----for then ----I shall be a fool, said my father, smiling to himself, as long as I live. --So giving a second nod--and keeping his compasses still upon _Nevers_ with one hand, and holding his book of the post-roads in the other--half calculating and half listening, he leaned forwards upon the table with both elbows, as my uncle _Toby_ hummed over the letter.

He had got forward again with his journey to within a stride of Nevers, when the letter was brought in, which contained the news of my brother's death.
'By your leave, Monsieur,' cried my father, stabbing his compasses through Nevers into the table - and nodding to my uncle Toby to see what was in the letter. Holding his compasses with one hand, and his book of post-roads in the other - half calculating and half listening - he leaned upon the table with both elbows, as my uncle Toby hummed over the letter.
