"--Was motion bad for it?" _et ctera_, were so tenderly spoke to, and so directed towards my uncle _Toby's_ heart, that every item of them sunk ten times deeper into it than the evils themselves----but when Mrs. _Wadman_ went round about by _Namur_ to get at my uncle _Toby's_ groin; and engaged him to attack the point of the advanced counterscarp, and _ple mle_ with the _Dutch_ to take the counterguard of St. _Roch_ sword in hand--and then with tender notes playing upon his ear, led him all bleeding by the hand out of the trench, wiping her eye, as he was carried to his tent ----Heaven! Earth! Sea! --all was lifted up--the springs of nature rose above their levels--an angel of mercy sat besides him on the sopha--his heart glow'd with fire--and had he been worth a thousand, he had lost every heart of them to Mrs. _Wadman_.
--And whereabouts, dear Sir, quoth Mrs. _Wadman_, a little categorically, did you receive this sad blow? ----In asking this question, Mrs. _Wadman_ gave a slight glance towards the waistband of my uncle _Toby's_ red plush breeches, expecting naturally, as the shortest reply to it, that my uncle _Toby_ would lay his forefinger upon the place ----It fell out otherwise----for my uncle _Toby_ having got his wound before the gate of St. _Nicolas_, in one of the traverses of the trench opposite to the salient angle of the demibastion of St. _Roch_; he could at any time stick a pin upon the identical spot of ground where he was standing when the stone struck him: this struck instantly upon my uncle _Toby's_ sensorium----and with it, struck his large map of the town and citadel of _Namur_ and its environs, which he had purchased and pasted down upon a board, by the corporal's aid, during his long illness----it had lain with other military lumber in the garret ever since, and accordingly the corporal was detached into the garret to fetch it.
My uncle _Toby_ measured off thirty toises, with Mrs. _Wadman's_ scissars, from the returning angle before the gate of St. _Nicolas_; and with such a virgin modesty laid her finger upon the place, that the goddess of Decency, if then in being--if not, 'twas her shade--shook her head, and with a finger wavering across her eyes--forbid her to explain the mistake.
Unhappy Mrs. _Wadman!_
----For nothing can make this chapter go off with spirit but an apostrophe to thee----but my heart tells me, that in such a crisis an apostrophe is but an insult in disguise, and ere I would offer one to a woman in distress--let the chapter go to the devil; provided any damn'd critic _in keeping_ will be but at the trouble to take it with him.

'Was motion bad for it?' et cetera, were so tenderly spoken, and so directed towards my uncle Toby's heart, that every item of them sunk deep into it - but when Mrs. Wadman went round about by Namur to get at my uncle Toby's groin; and engaged him to attack the point of the advanced counterscarp of Saint Roch, sword in hand - and then with tender notes playing upon his ear, led him all bleeding by the hand out of the trench, wiping her eye, as he was carried to his tent-
Heaven! Earth! Sea! - all was lifted up - an angel of mercy sat beside him on the sofa - his heart glowed with fire - and had he had a thousand hearts, he would have lost them all to Mrs. Wadman.
'And whereabouts, dear Sir,' quoth Mrs. Wadman, 'did you receive this sad blow?' She glanced towards the waistband of my uncle Toby's red plush breeches, expecting naturally, as the shortest reply, that my uncle Toby would lay his forefinger upon the place.
It fell out otherwise - for my uncle Toby having got his wound before the gate of St. Nicolas, in one of the traverses of the trench opposite the salient angle of the demibastion of St. Roch, he could stick a pin upon the exact spot of ground where he was standing when the stone struck him. My uncle immediately thought of his large map of the citadel of Namur and its environs, which he had purchased and pasted down upon a board during his long illness. It had lain with other military lumber in the garret ever since, and accordingly the corporal was sent into the garret to fetch it.
My uncle Toby measured off two hundred feet on the map, with Mrs. Wadman's scissors, from the angle before the gate of St. Nicolas; and with such a virgin modesty laid her finger upon the place, that the goddess of Decency shook her head, and forbade her to explain the mistake.
Unhappy Mrs. Wadman!
- For nothing can make this chapter end with spirit but an apostrophe to thee - but my heart tells me, that in such a crisis, an apostrophe is an insult in disguise, and before I would offer one to a woman in distress - let the chapter go to the devil.