It would so; said my uncle _Toby_. Why then, an' please your honour, is a black wench to be used worse than a white one?
I can give no reason, said my uncle _Toby_------
----Only, cried the corporal, shaking his head, because she has no one to stand up for her----
----'Tis that very thing, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, ----which recommends her to protection----and her brethren with her; 'tis the fortune of war which has put the whip into our hands _now_----where it may be hereafter, heaven knows! ----but be it where it will, the brave, _Trim!_ will not use it unkindly.
----God forbid, said the corporal.
Amen, responded my uncle _Toby_, laying his hand upon his heart.
The corporal returned to his story, and went on----but with an embarrassment in doing it, which here and there a reader in this world will not be able to comprehend; for by the many sudden transitions all along, from one kind and cordial passion to another, in getting thus far on his way, he had lost the sportable key of his voice, which gave sense and spirit to his tale: he attempted twice to resume it, but could not please himself; so giving a stout hem! to rally back the retreating spirits, and aiding nature at the same time with his left arm a-kimbo on one side, and with his right a little extended, supporting her on the other--the corporal got as near the note as he could; and in that attitude, continued his story.
'Then why, your honour, is a black wench to be used worse than a white one?'
'I can give no reason,' said my uncle Toby.
'Only,' cried the corporal, 'because she has no one to stand up for her.'
''Tis that very thing, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'which recommends her and her brethren to our protection; the fortune of war has put the whip into our hands now - where it may be hereafter, heaven knows! but the brave will not use it unkindly.'
'God forbid,' said the corporal; and he returned to his story - but with an embarrassment the reader may not comprehend; for by the many sudden transitions of feeling, he had lost the sportable key of his voice, which gave spirit to his tale.
So giving a stout hem! to rally back the retreating spirits, and placing his left arm akimbo, the corporal continued his story.