When _Tom_, an' please your honour, got to the shop, there was nobody in it, but a poor negro girl, with a bunch of white feathers slightly tied to the end of a long cane, flapping away flies--not killing them. ----'Tis a pretty picture! said my uncle _Toby_--she had suffered persecution, _Trim_, and had learnt mercy----
----She was good, an' please your honour, from nature, as well as from hardships; and there are circumstances in the story of that poor friendless slut, that would melt a heart of stone, said _Trim_; and some dismal winter's evening, when your honour is in the humour, they shall be told you with the rest of _Tom's_ story, for it makes a part of it----
Then do not forget, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_.
A negro has a soul? an' please your honour, said the corporal (doubtingly).
I am not much versed, corporal, quoth my uncle _Toby_, in things of that kind; but I suppose, God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me----
----It would be putting one sadly over the head of another, quoth the corporal.

'When Tom got to the shop, your honour, there was nobody in it but a poor negro girl, with a bunch of white feathers tied to the end of a long cane, flapping away flies - not killing them.'
''Tis a pretty picture!' said my uncle Toby; 'she had suffered persecution, Trim, and had learnt mercy.'
'She was good, and the story of that poor friendless lass would melt a heart of stone,' said Trim. 'Some dismal winter's evening, when your honour is in the mood, I shall tell you it.'
'Do not forget, Trim,' said my uncle Toby.
'Does a negro have a soul?' asked the corporal.
'I am not much versed in things of that kind,' quoth my uncle; 'but I suppose, God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me.'
