And so it was clear to Mr. Beauclerk that the man knew nothing about it himself.


If there was anything wrong, Melmotte was not aware that the wrong had been discovered.


"Is it anything about the election to-morrow?"


"One never can tell what is actuating people," said Mr. Beauclerk.


"If you know anything about the matter I think you ought to tell me."

If you know anything about it I think you ought to tell me."


"I know nothing except that the ballot will be taken to-morrow.

"I know nothing except that the ballot will be taken tomorrow.


You and I have got nothing more to do in the matter except to wait the result."

You and I have got nothing more to do except await the result."


"Well; I suppose it's all right," said Melmotte, rising and going back to his seat.


But he knew that things were not all right.


Had his political friends only been absent, he might have attributed their absence to some political cause which would not have touched him deeply.


But the treachery of the Lord Mayor and of Sir Gregory Gribe was a blow.


For another hour after he had returned to his place, the Emperor sat solemn in his chair; and then, at some signal given by some one, he was withdrawn.

The Emperor sat solemn in his chair for another hour; and then, at some signal, he was withdrawn.


The ladies had already left the room about half an hour.


According to the programme arranged for the evening, the royal guests were to return to the smaller room for a cup of coffee, and were then to be paraded upstairs before the multitude who would by that time have arrived, and to remain there long enough to justify the invited ones in saying that they had spent the evening with the Emperor and the Princes and the Princesses.


At half-past ten the Emperor was made to walk upstairs, and for half an hour sat awful and composed in an arm-chair that had been prepared for him.

At half-past ten the Emperor was made to walk upstairs, and for half an hour sat awful and composed in an arm-chair.


How one would wish to see the inside of the mind of the Emperor as it worked on that occasion!

How one would wish to see inside his mind!


Melmotte, when his guests ascended his stairs, went back into the banqueting-room and through to the hall, and wandered about till he found Miles Grendall.

Melmotte went through to the hall, and found Miles Grendall.


"Miles," he said, "tell me what the row is."
"How row?" asked Miles.
"There's something wrong, and you know all about it.

"Miles," he said, "there's something wrong, and you know all about it.


Miles, looking guilty, did not even attempt to deny his knowledge.


We might as well know all about it at once."


Miles looked down on the ground, and grunted something.


"They got hold of something to-day in the City--about Pickering."

"They got hold of something today in the City - about Pickering."


"And what were they saying about Pickering?


You don't suppose that I care what lies they tell."


"They say there's been something--forged.

"They say there's been something - forged.


And his lordship has stayed away from my house after accepting my invitation because he has heard that story!


And the Great Financier went upstairs into his own drawing-room.


The Conservative party at this particular period was putting its shoulder to the wheel,--not to push the coach up any hill, but to prevent its being hurried along at a pace which was not only dangerous, but manifestly destructive. The Conservative party now and then does put its shoulder to the wheel, ostensibly with the great national object above named; but also actuated by a natural desire to keep its own head well above water and be generally doing something, so that other parties may not suppose that it is moribund.

The Conservative party at this particular period was putting its shoulder to the wheel, as it now and then does, so that other parties may not suppose that it is moribund.


There are, no doubt, members of it who really think that when some object has been achieved,--when, for instance, a good old Tory has been squeezed into Parliament for the borough of Porcorum, which for the last three parliaments has been represented by a Liberal,--the coach has been really stopped.


To them, in their delightful faith, there comes at these triumphant moments a conviction that after all the people as a people have not been really in earnest in their efforts to take something from the greatness of the great, and to add something to the lowliness of the lowly.


The handle of the windlass has been broken, the wheel is turning fast the reverse way, and the rope of Radical progress is running back. Who knows what may not be regained if the Conservative party will only put its shoulder to the wheel and take care that the handle of the windlass be not mended! Sticinthemud, which has ever been a doubtful little borough, has just been carried by a majority of fifteen! A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether,--and the old day will come back again.

A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull together - and the old days, before the Radical reforms, will come back again.


Venerable patriarchs think of Lord Liverpool and other heroes, and dream dreams of Conservative bishops, Conservative lord-lieutenants, and of a Conservative ministry that shall remain in for a generation.

Venerable patriarchs think of Lord Liverpool and other heroes, and dream of Conservative bishops and lord-lieutenants, and a Conservative ministry that shall remain in for a generation.


Porcorum and Sticinthemud had done their duty valiantly,--with much management.


If this special seat for Westminster could be carried, the country then could hardly any longer have a doubt on the matter. If only Mr. Melmotte could be got in for Westminster, it would be manifest that the people were sound at heart, and that all the great changes which had been effected during the last forty years,--from the first reform in Parliament down to the Ballot,--had been managed by the cunning and treachery of a few ambitious men.

If this seat for Westminster could be won by Mr. Melmotte, it would show that the country was sound at heart, and that all the great changes of the last forty years - from the first reform in Parliament down to the Secret Ballot - had been managed by the cunning and treachery of a few ambitious men.


Not, however, that the Ballot was just now regarded by the party as an unmitigated evil, though it was the last triumph of Radical wickedness.

Not that the Ballot was regarded by the party as an unmitigated evil, though it was the last triumph of Radical wickedness.


The Ballot was on the whole popular with the party. A short time since, no doubt it was regarded by the party as being one and the same as national ruin and national disgrace. But it had answered well at Porcorum, and with due manipulation had been found to be favourable at Sticinthemud. The Ballot might perhaps help the long pull and the strong pull,--and, in spite of the ruin and disgrace, was thought by some just now to be a highly Conservative measure. It was considered that the Ballot might assist Melmotte at Westminster very materially.

The Ballot was on the whole popular with the party, and it might assist Melmotte at Westminster.


Any one reading the Conservative papers of the time, and hearing the Conservative speeches in the borough,--any one at least who lived so remote as not to have learned what these things really mean,--would have thought that England's welfare depended on Melmotte's return.

Anyone reading the Conservative papers of the time would have thought that England's welfare depended on Melmotte's election.


In the enthusiasm of the moment, the attacks made on his character were answered by eulogy as loud as the censure was bitter.

The praise was as loud as the censure of him had been bitter.


The chief crime laid to his charge was connected with the ruin of some great continental assurance company, as to which it was said that he had so managed it as to leave it utterly stranded, with an enormous fortune of his own.

The chief crime laid to his charge was connected with the ruin of some great continental assurance company, which it was said he had left utterly stranded, with an enormous fortune of his own.


It was declared that every shilling which he had brought to England with him had consisted of plunder stolen from the shareholders in the company.


Now the "Evening Pulpit," in its endeavour to make the facts of this transaction known, had placed what it called the domicile of this company in Paris, whereas it was ascertained that its official head-quarters had in truth been placed at Vienna.

Now the Evening Pulpit, in reporting this, had said that the company's headquarters were in Paris, whereas in fact they were in Vienna.


Was not such a blunder as this sufficient to show that no merchant of higher honour than Mr. Melmotte had ever adorned the Exchanges of modern capitals?

Did not this blunder show that Mr. Melmotte was a merchant of high honour?


And then two different newspapers of the time, both of them antagonistic to Melmotte, failed to be in accord on a material point.

And then two different newspapers, both antagonistic to Melmotte, failed to agree about his wealth.


One declared that Mr. Melmotte was not in truth possessed of any wealth.


The other said that he had derived his wealth from those unfortunate shareholders.

The other said that he had derived his wealth from those unfortunate shareholders on the Continent.


Could anything betray so bad a cause as contradictions such as these? Could anything be so false, so weak, so malignant, so useless, so wicked, so self-condemned,--in fact, so "Liberal" as a course of action such as this?

Could anything be so false, so weak, so wicked - in fact, so "Liberal" as this contradiction?


The belief naturally to be deduced from such statements, nay, the unavoidable conviction on the minds--of, at any rate, the Conservative newspapers--was that Mr. Melmotte had accumulated an immense fortune, and that he had never robbed any shareholder of a shilling.

The natural deduction from this, said the Conservative newspapers, was that Mr. Melmotte had an immense fortune, and that he had never robbed any shareholder of a shilling.


The friends of Melmotte had moreover a basis of hope, and were enabled to sound premonitory notes of triumph, arising from causes quite external to their party.


The "Breakfast Table" supported Melmotte, but the "Breakfast Table" was not a Conservative organ. This support was given, not to the great man's political opinions, as to which a well-known writer in that paper suggested that the great man had probably not as yet given very much attention to the party questions which divided the country,--but to his commercial position.

Although it was not a Conservative paper, the Breakfast Table supported Melmotte because of his commercial position and understanding.


It was generally acknowledged that few men living,--perhaps no man alive,--had so acute an insight into the great commercial questions of the age as Mr. Augustus Melmotte.

Few men had so acute an insight into the great commercial questions of the age as Mr. Augustus Melmotte.


In whatever part of the world he might have acquired his commercial experience,--for it had been said repeatedly that Melmotte was not an Englishman,--he now made London his home and Great Britain his country, and it would be for the welfare of the country that such a man should sit in the British Parliament.

No matter what his origin, it would be for the country's good that such a man should sit in the British Parliament.


Such were the arguments used by the "Breakfast Table" in supporting Mr. Melmotte.

This was the opinion of the Breakfast Table.


This was, of course, an assistance;--and not the less so because it was asserted in other papers that the country would be absolutely disgraced by his presence in Parliament.


The hotter the opposition the keener will be the support.


Honest good men, men who really loved their country, fine gentlemen, who had received unsullied names from great ancestors, shed their money right and left, and grew hot in personally energetic struggles to have this man returned to Parliament as the head of the great Conservative mercantile interests of Great Britain!


There was one man who thoroughly believed that the thing at the present moment most essentially necessary to England's glory was the return of Mr. Melmotte for Westminster.

There was one man who thoroughly believed that the thing most necessary for England's glory was the return of Mr. Melmotte for Westminster.


This man was undoubtedly a very ignorant man.


He knew nothing of any one political question which had vexed England for the last half century,--nothing whatever of the political history which had made England what it was at the beginning of that half century. Of such names as Hampden, Somers, and Pitt he had hardly ever heard. He had probably never read a book in his life. He knew nothing of the working of parliament, nothing of nationality,--had no preference whatever for one form of government over another, never having given his mind a moment's trouble on the subject.

He knew nothing of any of the political questions which had vexed England for the last half century, or of the country's political history, or of the working of Parliament.


He had not even reflected how a despotic monarch or a federal republic might affect himself, and possibly did not comprehend the meaning of those terms.


But yet he was fully confident that England did demand and ought to demand that Mr. Melmotte should be returned for Westminster.

Yet he was fully confident that England ought to demand that Mr. Melmotte should be returned for Westminster.


In this conjunction of his affairs Mr. Melmotte certainly lost his head.

At this point Mr. Melmotte certainly lost his head.


He had audacity almost sufficient for the very dangerous game which he was playing; but, as crisis heaped itself upon crisis, he became deficient in prudence.

He had enough boldness for the very dangerous game which he was playing; but, as crisis heaped itself upon crisis, he lacked prudence.


He did not hesitate to speak of himself as the man who ought to represent Westminster, and of those who opposed him as little malignant beings who had mean interests of their own to serve. He went about in his open carriage, with Lord Alfred at his left hand, with a look on his face which seemed to imply that Westminster was not good enough for him.

He spoke of those who opposed him as little malignant beings, and went about in his open carriage with a disdainful air.


He even hinted to certain political friends that at the next general election he should try the City.


Six months since he had been a humble man to a Lord,--but now he scolded Earls and snubbed Dukes, and yet did it in a manner which showed how proud he was of connecting himself with their social pre-eminence, and how ignorant of the manner in which such pre-eminence affects English gentlemen generally.

He scolded Earls and snubbed Dukes, and yet did it in a manner which showed how proud he was of connecting himself with their pre-eminence.


The more arrogant he became the more vulgar he was, till even Lord Alfred would almost be tempted to rush away to impecuniosity and freedom.

The more arrogant he became the more vulgar he was.


Perhaps there were some with whom this conduct had a salutary effect.


No doubt arrogance will produce submission; and there are men who take other men at the price those other men put upon themselves.


Such persons could not refrain from thinking Melmotte to be mighty because he swaggered; and gave their hinder parts to be kicked merely because he put up his toe.


We all know men of this calibre,--and how they seem to grow in number.


But the net result of his personal demeanour was injurious; and it was debated among some of the warmest of his supporters whether a hint should not be given him.


"Couldn't Lord Alfred say a word to him?"


said the Honourable Beauchamp Beauclerk, who, himself in Parliament, a leading man in his party, thoroughly well acquainted with the borough, wealthy and connected by blood with half the great Conservative families in the kingdom, had been moving heaven and earth on behalf of the great financial king, and working like a slave for his success.

said the Honourable Beauchamp Beauclerk, who, himself in Parliament, had been moving heaven and earth on behalf of the great financial king.


"Alfred's more than half afraid of him," said Lionel Lupton, a young aristocrat, also in Parliament, who had been inoculated with the idea that the interests of the party demanded Melmotte in Parliament, but who would have given up his Scotch shooting rather than have undergone Melmotte's company for a day.

"Alfred's more than half afraid of him," said Lionel Lupton, a young aristocrat, also in Parliament.


"Something really must be done, Mr. Beauclerk," said Mr. Jones, who was the leading member of a very wealthy firm of builders in the borough, who had become a Conservative politician, who had thoughts of the House for himself, but who never forgot his own position.

"Something really must be done, Mr. Beauclerk," said Mr. Jones, who led a very wealthy firm of builders in the borough.


"He is making a great many personal enemies."


"He's the finest old turkey cock out," said Lionel Lupton.


Then it was decided that Mr. Beauclerk should speak a word to Lord Alfred.

It was decided that Mr. Beauclerk should speak a word to Lord Alfred.


The rich man and the poor man were cousins, and had always been intimate.


"Alfred," said the chosen mentor at the club one afternoon, "I wonder whether you couldn't say something to Melmotte about his manner."

"Alfred," said he at the club one afternoon, "I wonder whether you couldn't say something to Melmotte about his manner."


Lord Alfred turned sharp round and looked into his companion's face.

Lord Alfred turned sharply round and looked into his companion's face.


Lord Alfred made his reply almost in a whisper.


"If you ask me, I don't think he could."


If you got him down and trampled on him, you might make him mild.


This, coming from Lord Alfred, who was absolutely dependent on the man, was very strong.


Lord Alfred had been much afflicted that morning.


He had spent some hours with his friend, either going about the borough in the open carriage, or standing just behind him at meetings, or sitting close to him in committee-rooms,--and had been nauseated with Melmotte.

He had spent some hours with Melmotte, going about the borough in the open carriage, and standing just behind him at meetings - and had been nauseated with him.


When spoken to about his friend he could not restrain himself.


Lord Alfred had been born and bred a gentleman, and found the position in which he was now earning his bread to be almost insupportable.

He found his position to be almost insupportable.


It had gone against the grain with him at first, when he was called Alfred; but now that he was told "just to open the door," and "just to give that message," he almost meditated revenge.

When he was told to "just open the door," and "just give that message," he meditated revenge.


Lord Nidderdale, who was quick at observation, had seen something of this in Grosvenor Square, and declared that Lord Alfred had invested part of his recent savings in a cutting whip.


Mr. Beauclerk, when he had got his answer, whistled and withdrew.


Melmotte was not the first vulgar man whom the Conservatives had taken by the hand, and patted on the back, and told that he was a god.


The Emperor of China was now in England, and was to be entertained one night at the India Office. The Secretary of State for the second great Asiatic Empire was to entertain the ruler of the first. This was on Saturday the 6th of July, and Melmotte's dinner was to take place on the following Monday.

The Emperor of China was now in England, and was to be entertained at the India Office on Saturday the 6th of July, and Melmotte's dinner was to take place on the following Monday.


Very great interest was made by the London world generally to obtain admission to the India Office,--the making of such interest consisting in the most abject begging for tickets of admission, addressed to the Secretary of State, to all the under secretaries, to assistant secretaries, secretaries of departments, chief clerks, and to head-messengers and their wives.

The London world was very keen to obtain admission to the India Office, begging for tickets allocated to the under secretaries, assistant secretaries, chief clerks, and head-messengers and their wives.


If a petitioner could not be admitted as a guest into the splendour of the reception rooms, might not he,--or she,--be allowed to stand in some passage whence the Emperor's back might perhaps be seen,--so that, if possible, the petitioner's name might be printed in the list of guests which would be published on the next morning?


Now Mr. Melmotte with his family was, of course, supplied with tickets.


He, who was to spend a fortune in giving the Emperor a dinner, was of course entitled to be present at other places to which the Emperor would be brought to be shown.


Melmotte had already seen the Emperor at a breakfast in Windsor Park, and at a ball in royal halls.

He had already seen the Emperor at a breakfast in Windsor Park, and at a ball in royal halls.


But hitherto he had not been presented to the Emperor.

But he had not been presented to the Emperor.


Presentations have to be restricted,--if only on the score of time; and it had been thought that as Mr. Melmotte would of course have some communication with the hardworked Emperor at his own house, that would suffice.


But he had felt himself to be ill-used and was offended.

He had felt himself to be ill-used, and was offended.


He spoke with bitterness to some of his supporters of the Royal Family generally, because he had not been brought to the front rank either at the breakfast or at the ball,--and now, at the India Office, was determined to have his due.

He spoke with bitterness of the Royal Family, because he had not been brought to the front rank - and now, at the India Office, was determined to have his due.


But he was not on the list of those whom the Secretary of State intended on this occasion to present to the Brother of the Sun.

But he was not on the list of those who would be presented to the Brother of the Sun.


At this period of his career he had taken to dining freely,--which was in itself imprudent, as he had need at all hours of his best intelligence.

At this period of his career he had taken to dining freely, which was imprudent, as he needed his best intelligence.


Let it not be understood that he was tipsy. He was a man whom wine did not often affect after that fashion. But it made him, who was arrogant before, tower in his arrogance till he was almost sure to totter.

Wine did not often make him tipsy; but it made him tower in his arrogance till he was almost sure to totter.


It was probably at some moment after dinner that Lord Alfred decided upon buying the cutting whip of which he had spoken.


Melmotte went with his wife and daughter to the India Office, and soon left them far in the background with a request,--we may say an order,--to Lord Alfred to take care of them. It may be observed here that Marie Melmotte was almost as great a curiosity as the Emperor himself, and was much noticed as the girl who had attempted to run away to New York, but had gone without her lover. Melmotte entertained some foolish idea that as the India Office was in Westminster, he had a peculiar right to demand an introduction on this occasion because of his candidature.

He went with his wife and daughter and Lord Alfred to the event at the India Office, with some foolish idea that as the India Office was in Westminster, he had a right to demand an introduction because of his candidature.


He did succeed in getting hold of an unfortunate under secretary of state, a studious and invaluable young peer, known as Earl De Griffin.


He was a shy man, of enormous wealth, of mediocre intellect, and no great physical ability, who never amused himself; but worked hard night and day, and read everything that anybody could write, and more than any other person could read, about India. Had Mr. Melmotte wanted to know the exact dietary of the peasants in Orissa, or the revenue of the Punjaub, or the amount of crime in Bombay, Lord De Griffin would have informed him without a pause. But in this matter of managing the Emperor, the under secretary had nothing to do, and would have been the last man to be engaged in such a service. He was, however, second in command at the India Office, and of his official rank Melmotte was unfortunately made aware.

He was a shy man, who worked hard night and day, and was second in command at the India Office.


"My Lord," said he, by no means hiding his demand in a whisper, "I am desirous of being presented to his Imperial Majesty."

"My Lord," said Melmotte loudly, "I desire to be presented to his Imperial Majesty."


Lord De Griffin looked at him in despair, not knowing the great man,--being one of the few men in that room who did not know him.

Lord De Griffin looked at him in despair, not knowing the great man.


"This is Mr. Melmotte," said Lord Alfred, who had deserted the ladies and still stuck to his master.

"This is Mr. Melmotte," said Lord Alfred.


"Lord De Griffin, let me introduce you to Mr. Melmotte."


"Oh--oh--oh," said Lord De Griffin, just putting out his hand.


"I am delighted;--ah, yes," and pretending to see somebody, he made a weak and quite ineffectual attempt to escape.

"I am delighted; ah, yes," and he made a weak and ineffectual attempt to escape.


Melmotte stood directly in his way, and with unabashed audacity repeated his demand.

Melmotte stood in his way, and repeated his demand.


"I am desirous of being presented to his Imperial Majesty.


Will you do me the honour of making my request known to Mr. Wilson?"


Mr. Wilson was the Secretary of State, who was as busy as a Secretary of State is sure to be on such an occasion.


"I hardly know," said Lord De Griffin. "I'm afraid it's all arranged.

"I'm afraid it's all arranged." said Lord De Griffin.


"He's up there, Mr. Melmotte; and I couldn't get at him.


And the poor under secretary again endeavoured to escape.


Mr. Melmotte put up his hand and stopped him.


"I'm not going to stand this kind of thing," he said.

"I'm not going to stand this kind of thing," said Melmotte.


The old Marquis of Auld Reekie was close at hand, the father of Lord Nidderdale, and therefore the proposed father-in-law of Melmotte's daughter, and he poked his thumb heavily into Lord Alfred's ribs.

The old Marquis of Auld Reekie was close at hand, Lord Nidderdale's father; and he poked his thumb into Lord Alfred's ribs.


"It is generally understood, I believe," continued Melmotte, "that the Emperor is to do me the honour of dining at my poor house on Monday.

"It is generally understood, I believe," continued Melmotte, "that the Emperor is to dine at my house on Monday.


He don't dine there unless I'm made acquainted with him before he comes.


I ain't going to entertain even an Emperor unless I'm good enough to be presented to him."


Perhaps you'd better let Mr. Wilson know, as a good many people intend to come."


"He has taken a little wine," whispered Lord Alfred.


"Melmotte," he said, still whispering; "upon my word it isn't the thing.


They're only Indian chaps and Eastern swells who are presented here,--not a fellow among 'em all who hasn't been in India or China, or isn't a Secretary of State, or something of that kind."

They're only Indian chaps and Eastern swells who are presented here."


"Then they should have done it at Windsor, or at the ball," said Melmotte, pulling down his waistcoat.

"Then they should have done it at Windsor," said Melmotte.


I'm in earnest, and somebody had better look to it.


If I'm not presented to his Imperial Majesty to-night, by G----, there shall be no dinner in Grosvenor Square on Monday.

If I'm not presented to his Imperial Majesty tonight, by G__, there shall be no dinner in Grosvenor Square on Monday."


I'm master enough of my own house, I suppose, to be able to manage that."


Here was a row, as the Marquis had said!


Lord De Griffin was frightened, and Lord Alfred felt that something ought to be done.


"There's no knowing how far the pig-headed brute may go in his obstinacy," Lord Alfred said to Mr. Lupton, who was there.


It no doubt might have been wise to have allowed the merchant prince to return home with the resolution that his dinner should be abandoned. He would have repented probably before the next morning; and had he continued obdurate it would not have been difficult to explain to Celestial Majesty that something preferable had been found for that particular evening even to a banquet at the house of British commerce.

It might have been wise to have allowed Melmotte to return home with the resolution that his dinner should be abandoned; he would probably have repented before the next morning.


The Government would probably have gained the seat for Westminster, as Melmotte would at once have become very unpopular with the great body of his supporters.


But Lord De Griffin was not the man to see this. He did make his way up to Mr. Wilson, and explained to the Amphytrion of the night the demand which was made on his hospitality.

But Lord De Griffin went to the Secretary of State, Mr. Wilson, and explained the issue.


A thoroughly well-established and experienced political Minister of State always feels that if he can make a friend or appease an enemy without paying a heavy price he will be doing a good stroke of business.


"He's going to do something out in the East, isn't he?"


"Nothing in India," said Lord De Griffin.


"The submarine telegraph is quite impossible."


Mr. Wilson, instructing some satellite to find out in what way he might properly connect Mr. Melmotte with China, sent Lord De Griffin away with his commission.
"My dear Alfred, just allow me to manage these things myself," Mr. Melmotte was saying when the under secretary returned. "I know my own position and how to keep it. There shall be no dinner. I'll be d---- if any of the lot shall dine in Grosvenor Square on Monday." Lord Alfred was so astounded that he was thinking of making his way to the Prime Minister, a man whom he abhorred and didn't know, and of acquainting him with the terrible calamity which was threatened. But the arrival of the under secretary saved him the trouble.
"If you will come with me," whispered Lord De Griffin, "it shall be managed.

Lord de Griffin returned to Melmotte, and whispered, "If you will come with me, it shall be managed.


It isn't just the thing, but as you wish it, it shall be done."


He was one of those men whom success never mollified, whose enjoyment of a point gained always demanded some hoarse note of triumph from his own trumpet.

He was one of those men for whom success always demanded some hoarse note of triumph from his own trumpet.


"If you will be so kind as to follow me," said Lord De Griffin.


Melmotte, as he was taken up to the imperial footstool, was resolved upon making a little speech, forgetful at the moment of interpreters,--of the double interpreters whom the Majesty of China required; but the awful, quiescent solemnity of the celestial one quelled even him, and he shuffled by without saying a word even of his own banquet.

Melmotte, as he was taken up to the imperial footstool, was resolved upon making a little speech; but the awful, silent solemnity of the celestial one quelled even him, and he shuffled by without saying a word.


But he had gained his point, and, as he was taken home to poor Mr. Longestaffe's house in Bruton Street, was intolerable.

But he had gained his point, and afterwards became intolerable.


Lord Alfred tried to escape after putting Madame Melmotte and her daughter into the carriage, but Melmotte insisted on his presence. "You might as well come, Alfred;--there are two or three things I must settle before I go to bed."

Lord Alfred tried to escape after putting Madame Melmotte and her daughter into the carriage, but Melmotte insisted: "Come with me, Alfred; there are two or three things I must settle before I go to bed."


"I'm about knocked up," said the unfortunate man.


I've been all day at the hardest work a man can do."


Had he as usual got in first, leaving his man-of-all-work to follow, the man-of-all-work would have escaped.


Melmotte, fearing such defection, put his hand on Lord Alfred's shoulder, and the poor fellow was beaten.

Melmotte put his hand on Lord Alfred's shoulder, and the poor fellow was beaten.


As they were taken home a continual sound of cock-crowing was audible, but as the words were not distinguished they required no painful attention; but when the soda water and brandy and cigars made their appearance in Mr. Longestaffe's own back room, then the trumpet was sounded with a full blast.

Walking about Mr. Longstaffe's back room with a brandy and a cigar, Melmotte again sounded his own trumpet.


"I mean to let the fellows know what's what," said Melmotte, walking about the room.

"I mean to let the fellows know what's what," he said.


Lord Alfred had thrown himself into an arm-chair, and was consoling himself as best he might with tobacco.


If I scratch their back, I mean them to scratch mine.


They won't find many people to spend ten thousand pounds in entertaining a guest of the country's as a private enterprise.

"They won't find many people to spend ten thousand pounds in entertaining a guest of the country.


I don't know of any other man of business who could do it, or would do it.

I don't know of any other man of business who could do it.


It's not much any of them can do for me.


But if consideration is to be shown to anybody, I intend to be considered.


The Prince treated me very scurvily, Alfred, and I shall take an opportunity of telling him so on Monday.


I suppose a man may be allowed to speak to his own guests."

I suppose a man may speak to his own guests."


"You might turn the election against you if you said anything the Prince didn't like."

"You might turn the election against you if you said anything the Prince didn't like," said Lord Alfred.


I stand before the electors of Westminster as a man of business, not as a courtier,--as a man who understands commercial enterprise, not as one of the Prince's toadies.

I stand before the electors of Westminster as a man of business, not as one of the Prince's toadies.


Some of you fellows in England don't realise the matter yet; but I can tell you that I think myself quite as great a man as any Prince."


Lord Alfred looked at him, with strong reminiscences of the old ducal home, and shuddered.


Didn't I teach 'em a lesson to-night,--eh?

Didn't I teach 'em a lesson tonight, eh?


They tell me that Lord De Griffin has sixty thousand a-year to spend.


You want to tell me this and that, but I can tell you that I know more of men and women than some of you fellows do, who think you know a great deal."


This went on through the whole of a long cigar; and afterwards, as Lord Alfred slowly paced his way back to his lodgings in Mount Street, he thought deeply whether there might not be means of escaping from his present servitude.

This went on through the whole of a cigar; and afterwards, as Lord Alfred slowly walked back to his lodgings, he thought deeply whether there might not be a means of escaping from his servitude.


he said to himself over and over again as he slowly went to Mount Street.

he said to himself over and over again as he returned to Mount Street.


The world is ashamed of being virtuous ----My uncle _Toby_ knew little of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow _Wadman_, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be made a mystery of, than if Mrs. _Wadman_ had given him a cut with a gap'd knife across his finger: Had it been otherwise----yet as he ever look'd upon _Trim_ as a humble friend; and saw fresh reasons every day of his life, to treat him as such----it would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair.

My uncle Toby knew little of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow Wadman, he had no idea that the thing was to be made a mystery of. Even had it been otherwise, as he looked upon Trim as a humble friend, it would have made no difference to the manner in which he informed him of it.


----What an unconscionable jointure, my dear, do we pay out of this small estate of ours, quoth my grandmother to my grandfather.

'What an excessive jointure, my dear, we pay out of this small estate of ours,' quoth my grandmother to my grandfather.


My father, replied my grandfather, had no more nose, my dear, saving the mark, than there is upon the back of my hand.

'My father,' replied my grandfather, 'had no more nose, my dear, than there is upon the back of my hand.'


--Now, you must know, that my great-grandmother outlived my grandfather twelve years; so that my father had the jointure to pay, a hundred and fifty pounds half-yearly--(on _Michaelmas_ and _Lady-day_), --during all that time.

Now, you must know that my great-grandmother outlived my grandfather twelve years; so that my father had the jointure to pay, a hundred and fifty pounds half-yearly, during all that time.


No man discharged pecuniary obligations with a better grace than my father.

No man paid his bills with a better grace than my father.


------And as far as a hundred pounds went, he would fling it upon the table, guinea by guinea, with that spirited jerk of an honest welcome, which generous souls, and generous souls only, are able to fling down money: but as soon as ever he enter'd upon the odd fifty--he generally gave a loud _Hem!_ rubb'd the side of his nose leisurely with the flat part of his fore finger----inserted his hand cautiously betwixt his head and the cawl of his wig--look'd at both sides of every guinea as he parted with it----and seldom could get to the end of the fifty pounds, without pulling out his handkerchief, and wiping his temples.

As far as a hundred pounds went, he would fling it upon the table with a generous spirit; but faced with half that amount, he gave a loud 'Hem!', rubbed his nose, scratched his head, looked at both sides of every guinea as he parted with it - and could seldom get to the end of the fifty pounds, without pulling out his handkerchief, and wiping his temples.


from those persecuting spirits who make no allowances for these workings within us. --Never --O never may I lay down in their tents, who cannot relax the engine, and feel pity for the force of education, and the prevalence of opinions long derived from ancestors!

from those persecuting spirits who make no allowances for these workings within us, and for opinions derived from our ancestors!


For three generations at least this _tenet_ in favour of long noses had gradually been taking root in our family. ------TRADITION was all along on its side, and INTEREST was every half-year stepping in to strengthen it; so that the whimsicality of my father's brain was far from having the whole honour of this, as it had of almost all his other strange notions.

For three generations at least this opinion in favour of long noses had gradually been taking root in our family; so my father's whimsical brain was far from having devised this, as it had almost all his other strange notions.


--For in a great measure he might be said to have suck'd this in with his mother's milk.

He might be said to have sucked this in with his mother's milk.


----If education planted the mistake (in case it was one) my father watered it, and ripened it to perfection.

However, if education planted the mistake, my father watered it, and ripened it to perfection.


He would often declare, in speaking his thoughts upon the subject, that he did not conceive how the greatest family in _England_ could stand it out against an uninterrupted succession of six or seven short noses.

He would often declare that he did not see how the greatest family in England could stand it out against an uninterrupted succession of six or seven short noses.


--And for the contrary reason, he would generally add, That it must be one of the greatest problems in civil life, where the same number of long and jolly noses, following one another in a direct line, did not raise and hoist it up into the best vacancies in the kingdom.

And conversely, he would add, it must be a great problem when the same number of long and jolly noses, following one another in a line, did not raise the family up into the best vacancies in the kingdom.


------He would often boast that the _Shandy_ family rank'd very high in King _Harry_ the VIIIth's time, but owed its rise to no state engine--he would say--but to that only; ----but that, like other families, he would add----it had felt the turn of the wheel, and had never recovered the blow of my great-grandfather's nose.

He would often boast that the Shandy family ranked very high in King Harry the VIIIth's time, owing to its noses; - but that it had never recovered from the blow of my great-grandfather's nose.


----It was an ace of clubs indeed, he would cry, shaking his head--and as vile a one for an unfortunate family as ever turn'd up trumps.

'It was an ace of clubs indeed,' he would cry, shaking his head, 'and as vile a one for an unfortunate family as ever turned up trumps.'


----If there is truth in man, by my great-grandfather's nose, I mean the external organ of smelling, or that part of man which stands prominent in his face----and which painters say, in good jolly noses and well-proportioned faces, should comprehend a full third----that is, measured downwards from the setting on of the hair.----

By my great-grandfather's nose, I mean the external organ of smelling - and which painters say, should take up a full third of the face measured downwards from the hairline.


----What a life of it has an author, at this pass!


The first thing which entered my father's head, after affairs were a little settled in the family, and _Susannah_ had got possession of my mother's green sattin night-gown, --was to sit down coolly, after the example of _Xenophon_, and write a TRISTRA-pdia, or system of education for me; collecting first for that purpose his own scattered thoughts, counsels, and notions; and binding them together, so as to form an INSTITUTE for the government of my childhood and adolescence.

The first thing which entered my father's head, after affairs were a little settled in the family, and Susannah had got possession of my mother's green satin night-gown - was to sit down coolly, after Xenophon's example, and write a Tristra-paedia, or system of education for me; collecting his scattered thoughts, and binding them together, so as to form an Institute for the government of my childhood and adolescence.


I was my father's last stake--he had lost my brother _Bobby_ entirely, --he had lost, by his own computation, full three-fourths of me--that is, he had been unfortunate in his three first great casts for me--my geniture, nose, and name, --there was but this one left; and accordingly my father gave himself up to it with as much devotion as ever my uncle _Toby_ had done to his doctrine of projectils.

I was my father's last stake - he had lost my brother Bobby entirely; he had lost, he reckoned, full three-fourths of me - that is, he had been unfortunate in his three first great casts of the dice for me - my begetting, my nose, and my name - but there was this one left.
Accordingly my father gave himself up to it with as much devotion as ever my uncle Toby gave to his study of projectiles.


--The difference between them was, that my uncle _Toby_ drew his whole knowledge of projectils from _Nicholas Tartaglia_ --My father spun his, every thread of it, out of his own brain, --or reeled and cross-twisted what all other spinners and spinsters had spun before him, that 'twas pretty near the same torture to him.

The difference was, that my uncle Toby drew his knowledge of projectiles from Nicholas Tartaglia. My father spun his knowledge, every thread of it, out of his own brain - or reeled and twisted what all other spinners had spun before him, which was pretty near the same thing.


In about three years, or something more, my father had got advanced almost into the middle of his work.

In about three years, my father had almost reached the middle of his work.


--Like all other writers, he met with disappointments.


--He imagined he should be able to bring whatever he had to say, into so small a compass, that when it was finished and bound, it might be rolled up in my mother's hussive.

He imagined he should be able to fit whatever he had to say into so small a space that, when it was finished and bound, it might be rolled up in my mother's pocket-case.


--Let no man say, --"Come --I'll write a duodecimo."


My father gave himself up to it, however, with the most painful diligence, proceeding step by step in every line, with the same kind of caution and circumspection (though I cannot say upon quite so religious a principle) as was used by _John de la Casse_, the lord archbishop of _Benevento_, in compassing his _Galatea_; in which his Grace of _Benevento_ spent near forty years of his life; and when the thing came out, it was not of above half the size or the thickness of a _Rider's_ Almanack.

My father gave himself up to it, however, with painful diligence, proceeding step by step with the same caution as was used by John de la Casse, the archbishop of Benevento, in writing his Galatea, on which he spent near forty years; and when the thing came out, it was only half the size of a Rider's Almanack.


--How the holy man managed the affair, unless he spent the greatest part of his time in combing his whiskers, or playing at _primero_ with his chaplain, --would pose any mortal not let into the true secret; --and therefore 'tis worth explaining to the world, was it only for the encouragement of those few in it, who write not so much to be fed--as to be famous.

How he managed it, unless he spent most of his time combing his whiskers, or playing at cards with his chaplain, would puzzle anyone not let into the true secret; and therefore 'tis worth explaining to the world.


I own had _John de la Casse_, the archbishop of _Benevento_, for whose memory (notwithstanding his _Galatea_) I retain the highest veneration, --had he been, Sir, a slender clerk--of dull wit--slow parts--costive head, and so forth, --he and his _Galatea_ might have jogged on together to the age of _Methuselah_ for me, --the phnomenon had not been worth a parenthesis.--

I admit, if John de la Casse, for whose memory (despite his Galatea) I retain the highest respect,- if he had been, Sir, a slender clerk of dull wit, he and his Galatea might have jogged on together to the age of Methuselah, and have not been worth a mention.


But the reverse of this was the truth: _John de la Casse_ was a genius of fine parts and fertile fancy; and yet with all these advantages of nature, which should have pricked him forwards with his _Galatea_, he lay under an impuissance at the same time of advancing above a line and a half in the compass of a whole summer's day: this disability in his Grace arose from an opinion he was afflicted with, --which opinion was this, --_viz._ that whenever a Christian was writing a book (not for his private amusement, but) where his intent and purpose was, _bon fide_, to print and publish it to the world, his first thoughts were always the temptations of the evil one.

But John de la Casse was a genius of fertile fancy; yet with the natural advantages which should have spurred him on with his Galatea, he was incapable of writing more than a line and a half in a whole summer's day. This disability arose from his opinion that, whenever a Christian was writing a book with the intent of publishing it to the world, his first thoughts were always the temptations of the evil one.


--This was the state of ordinary writers: but when a personage of venerable character and high station, either in church or state, once turned author, --he maintained, that from the very moment he took pen in hand--all the devils in hell broke out of their holes to cajole him.

And, he maintained, when a person of high character and status turned author, from the very moment he took pen in hand - all the devils in hell broke out of their holes to cajole him.


--'Twas Term-time with them, --every thought, first and last, was captious; --how specious and good soever, --'twas all one; --in whatever form or colour it presented itself to the imagination, --'twas still a stroke of one or other of 'em levell'd at him, and was to be fenced off.

Every thought, however it came to him, was a stroke of one or other of these devils.


--So that the life of a writer, whatever he might fancy to the contrary, was not so much a state of _composition_, as a state of _warfare_; and his probation in it, precisely that of any other man militant upon earth, --both depending alike, not half so much upon the degrees of his WIT--as his RESISTANCE.

So that the life of a writer was not so much a state of composition, as a state of warfare; and his success, like a soldier's, depended not so much upon his Wit as his Resistance.


My father was hugely pleased with this theory of _John de la Casse_, archbishop of _Benevento_; and (had it not cramped him a little in his creed) I believe would have given ten of the best acres in the _Shandy_ estate, to have been the broacher of it.

My father was hugely pleased with this theory of John de la Casse.


--How far my father actually believed in the devil, will be seen, when I come to speak of my father's religious notions, in the progress of this work: 'tis enough to say here, as he could not have the honour of it, in the literal sense of the doctrine--he took up with the allegory of it; and would often say, especially when his pen was a little retrograde, there was as much good meaning, truth, and knowledge, couched under the veil of _John de la Casse's_ parabolical representation, --as was to be found in any one poetic fiction or mystic record of antiquity.

- How far my father actually believed in the devil will be seen when I come to speak of his religious notions: 'tis enough to say here, that he took up the allegory of the doctrine, if not its literal sense; and would often say there was as much good truth in John de la Casse's description as was to be found in any poetic fiction or ancient record.


--Prejudice of education, he would say, _is the devil_, --and the multitudes of them which we suck in with our mother's milk--_are the devil and all_.

'Prejudice of education,' he would say, 'is the devil - and the multitudes of them which we suck in with our mother's milk are the devil and all.


----We are haunted with them, brother _Toby_, in all our lucubrations and researches; and was a man fool enough to submit tamely to what they obtruded upon him, --what would his book be?

We are haunted with them, brother Toby, in all our researches; and if a man was fool enough to submit tamely to them, what would his book be?


Nothing, --he would add, throwing his pen away with a vengeance, --nothing but a farrago of the clack of nurses, and of the nonsense of the old women (of both sexes) throughout the kingdom.

Nothing,' he would add, throwing his pen away, - 'nothing but a farrago of the clack of nurses, and of the nonsense of the old women (of both sexes) throughout the kingdom.'


This is the best account I am determined to give of the slow progress my father made in his _Tristra-pdia_; at which (as I said) he was three years, and something more, indefatigably at work, and, at last, had scarce completed, by his own reckoning, one half of his undertaking: the misfortune was, that I was all that time totally neglected and abandoned to my mother: and what was almost as bad, by the very delay, the first part of the work, upon which my father had spent the most of his pains, was rendered entirely useless, ----every day a page or two became of no consequence.----

This is the best account I can give of the slow progress my father made in his Tristra-paedia; at which (as I said) he was over three years at work, and had scarce completed one half. The misfortune was, that I was all that time totally neglected and abandoned to my mother: and what was almost as bad, by the very delay, the first part of the work was rendered entirely useless - every day a page or two became outdated.


----Certainly it was ordained as a scourge upon the pride of human wisdom, That the wisest of us all should thus outwit ourselves, and eternally forego our purposes, in the intemperate act of pursuing them.

- Certainly it was ordained as a scourge upon our pride, that the wisest of us should thus outwit ourselves, and eternally deny our purposes, in the intemperate act of pursuing them.


In short, my father was so long in all his acts of resistance, --or in other words, --he advanced so very slow with his work, and I began to live and get forwards at such a rate, that if an event had not happened, ----which, when we get to it, if it can be told with decency, shall not be concealed a moment from the reader ----I verily believe, I had put by my father, and left him drawing a sun-dial, for no better purpose than to be buried underground.

In short, my father advanced so very slow with his work, and I began to get forwards at such a rate, that, if an event had not happened - which, if it can be told with decency, shall not be concealed a moment from the reader - I believe I would have outgrown it.


"_Nihil me pnitet hujus nasi_," quoth _Pamphagus_; ----that is-- "My nose has been the making of me."

'Nihil me poenitet hujus nasi,' quoth Pamphagus; that is, 'My nose has been the making of me.'


----------"_Nec est cur pniteat_," replies _Cocles_; that is, "How the duce should such a nose fail?"

'Nec est cur poeniteat,' replies Cocles; that is, 'How the deuce should such a nose fail?'


The doctrine, you see, was laid down by _Erasmus_, as my father wished it, with the utmost plainness; but my father's disappointment was, in finding nothing more from so able a pen, but the bare fact itself; without any of that speculative subtilty or ambidexterity of argumentation upon it, which Heaven had bestow'd upon man on purpose to investigate truth, and fight for her on all sides.

This was laid down by Erasmus with great plainness; but my father was disappointed to find no subtler argument from so able a pen.


----My father pish'd and pugh'd at first most terribly------'tis worth something to have a good name.

My father pished and pughed at first most terribly.


As the dialogue was of _Erasmus_, my father soon came to himself, and read it over and over again with great application, studying every word and every syllable of it thro' and thro' in its most strict and literal interpretation--he could still make nothing of it, that way.

But as the dialogue was by Erasmus, he soon read it over again with great application, studying every word through and through.
He could still make nothing of it.


Mayhap there is more meant, than is said in it, quoth my father.

'Mayhap more is meant than is said in it,' quoth he.


----Learned men, brother _Toby_, don't write dialogues upon long noses for nothing.

'Learned men don't write dialogues upon long noses for nothing.


------I'll study the mystick and the allegorick sense----here is some room to turn a man's self in, brother.

I'll study the mystic and allegoric sense.'


------Now I find it needful to inform your reverences and worships, that besides the many nautical uses of long noses enumerated by _Erasmus_, the dialogist affirmeth that a long nose is not without its domestic conveniencies also; for that in a case of distress--and for want of a pair of bellows, it will do excellently well, _ad ixcitandum focum_ (to stir up the fire).

Now I must inform your worships, that besides the many nautical uses of long noses listed by Erasmus, he writes that a long nose has its domestic conveniences also; for instance, in the want of a pair of bellows, it will do excellently well ad excitandum focum (to arouse the fire.)


Nature had been prodigal in her gifts to my father beyond measure, and had sown the seeds of verbal criticism as deep within him, as she had done the seeds of all other knowledge------so that he had got out his penknife, and was trying experiments upon the sentence, to see if he could not scratch some better sense into it.

My father had got out his penknife, and was trying experiments upon the sentence, to see if he could not scratch some better sense into it.


----I've got within a single letter, brother _Toby_, cried my father, of _Erasmus_ his mystic meaning.

'I've got within a single letter, brother Toby,' cried he, scratching on, 'of Erasmus's mystic meaning.


--You are near enough, brother, replied my uncle, in all conscience.


cried my father, scratching on ----I might as well be seven miles off.


--I've done it--said my father, snapping his fingers --See, my dear brother _Toby_, how I have mended the sense.

I've done it,' he said, snapping his fingers. 'See, my dear brother, how I have mended the sense.'


----But you have marr'd a word, replied my uncle _Toby_.

'But you have marred a word,' replied my uncle Toby.


----My father put on his spectacles----bit his lip------and tore out the leaf in a passion.

My father bit his lip - and tore the page out in a passion.


Now, because I have once or twice said, in my inconsiderate way of talking, That I was confident the following memoirs of my uncle _Toby's_ courtship of widow _Wadman_, whenever I got time to write them, would turn out one of the most complete systems, both of the elementary and practical part of love and love-making, that ever was addressed to the world----are you to imagine from thence, that I shall set out with a description of _what love is?_ whether part God and part Devil, as _Plotinus_ will have it----

Now, because I have once or twice said that I was confident the following memoirs of my uncle Toby's courtship of widow Wadman, whenever I got time to write them, would turn out one of the most complete accounts of the practice of love and love-making that ever was addressed to the world - do you imagine that I shall set out with a description of what love is? whether part God and part Devil, as Plotinus puts it-


----Or by a more critical equation, and supposing the whole of love to be as ten----to determine with _Ficinus_, "_How many parts of it--the one, --and how many the other_;" --or whether it is _all of it one great Devil_, from head to tail, as _Plato_ has taken upon him to pronounce; concerning which conceit of his, I shall not offer my opinion: --but my opinion of _Plato_ is this; that he appears, from this instance, to have been a man of much the same temper and way of reasoning with doctor _Baynyard_, who being a great enemy to blisters, as imagining that half a dozen of 'em at once, would draw a man as surely to his grave, as a herse and six--rashly concluded, that the Devil himself was nothing in the world, but one great bouncing _Canthari[di]s_.------

- Or supposing the whole of love to be as ten - as Ficinus does - 'How many parts of it are one, and how many the other' - or whether it is all one great Devil from head to tail, as Plato says: but Plato appears to have been a man of much the same temper as doctor Baynyard, who being a great enemy to blisters, imagined that half a dozen of 'em at once would draw a man to his grave, and rashly concluded that the Devil himself was nothing but one great bouncing blister beetle.


I have nothing to say to people who allow themselves this monstrous liberty in arguing, but what _Nazianzen_ cried out (_that is, polemically_) to _Philagrius_----

I have nothing to say to people who allow themselves this monstrous liberty in arguing, but what Nazianzen cried out to Philagrius-


_O rare! 'tis fine reasoning, Sir, indeed!_-- " "--_and most nobly do you aim at truth, when you philosophize about it in your moods and passions._

'O fine reasoning, Sir! when you philosophize in your moods and passions.'


Nor is it to be imagined, for the same reason, I should stop to inquire, whether love is a disease, ----or embroil myself with _Rhasis_ and _Dioscorides_, whether the seat of it is in the brain or liver; --because this would lead me on, to an examination of the two very opposite manners, in which patients have been treated----the one, of _Atius_, who always begun with a cooling clyster of hempseed and bruised cucumbers; --and followed on with thin potations of water-lillies and purslane--to which he added a pinch of snuff of the herb _Hanea_; --and where _Atius_ durst venture it, --his topaz-ring.

Nor should I stop to inquire whether love is a disease, or embroil myself with Rhasis and Dioscorides, whether the seat of it is in the brain or liver; because this would lead me on to an examination of the two opposite manners in which patients have been treated - the one, of Aertius, who always began with a cooling dressing of hempseed and bruised cucumbers, followed with thin potations of water-lilies and purslane - to which he added a pinch of snuff of the herb Hanea.


----The other, that of _Gordonius_, who (in his cap. 15. _de Amore_) directs they should be thrashed, "_ad putorem usque_," ----till they stink again.

- The other, that of Gordonius (in Ch. 15 of De Amore), who directs they should be thrashed ad putorem usque - till they stink again.


These are disquisitions, which my father, who had laid in a great stock of knowledge of this kind, will be very busy with in the progress of my uncle _Toby's_ affairs: I must anticipate thus much, That from his theories of love, (with which, by the way, he contrived to crucify my uncle _Toby's_ mind, almost as much as his amours themselves)--he took a single step into practice; --and by means of a camphorated cerecloth, which he found means to impose upon the taylor for buckram, whilst he was making my uncle _Toby_ a new pair of breeches, he produced _Gordonius's_ effect upon my uncle _Toby_ without the disgrace.

My father, who had a great stock of knowledge of this kind, was very busy with the progress of my uncle Toby's affairs: from his theories of love, (with which, by the way, he contrived to crucify my uncle Toby's mind, almost as much as his amours themselves) - he put one into practice; and by means of a camphorated waxed cloth to allay lust, which he imposed upon the tailor whilst he was making my uncle Toby a new pair of breeches, he produced Gordonius's effect upon my uncle Toby without the disgrace.


What changes this produced, will be read in its proper place: all that is needful to be added to the anecdote, is this ----That whatever effect it had upon my uncle _Toby_, ----it had a vile effect upon the house; ----and if my uncle _Toby_ had not smoaked it down as he did, it might have had a vile effect upon my father too.

What changes this produced, will be read in its proper place: all that needs to be added is this - that whatever effect the camphorated cloth had upon my uncle Toby, it had a vile effect upon the house; and if my uncle Toby had not swathed it in smoke, it might have had a vile effect upon my father too.


We live in a world beset on all sides with mysteries and riddles--and so 'tis no matter----else it seems strange, that Nature, who makes everything so well to answer its destination, and seldom or never errs, unless for pastime, in giving such forms and aptitudes to whatever passes through her hands, that whether she designs for the plough, the caravan, the cart--or whatever other creature she models, be it but an asse's foal, you are sure to have the thing you wanted; and yet at the same time should so eternally bungle it as she does, in making so simple a thing as a married man.

We live in a world beset on all sides with mysteries and riddles - but it seems strange that Nature, who makes everything so well for its purpose, whether she designs for the plough or the cart - yet at the same time should so eternally bungle it as she does, in making so simple a thing as a married man.


Whether it is in the choice of the clay----or that it is frequently spoiled in the baking; by an excess of which a husband may turn out too crusty (you know) on one hand----or not enough so, through defect of heat, on the other----or whether this great Artificer is not so attentive to the little Platonic exigences _of that part_ of the species, for whose use she is fabricating _this_----or that her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what sort of a husband will do ----I know not: we will discourse about it after supper.

Whether it is in the choice of the clay, or because it is spoiled in the baking, so that a husband may turn out too crusty on one hand - or not crusty enough, on the other; - or whether this great Artificer is not so attentive to the little details of that part of the species - or whether her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what sort of a husband will do - I know not: we will discuss it after supper.


It is enough, that neither the observation itself, or the reasoning upon it, are at all to the purpose----but rather against it; since with regard to my uncle _Toby's_ fitness for the marriage state, nothing was ever better: she had formed him of the best and kindliest clay----had temper'd it with her own milk, and breathed into it the sweetest spirit----she had made him all gentle, generous, and humane----she had filled his heart with trust and confidence, and disposed every passage which led to it, for the communication of the tenderest offices----she had moreover considered the other causes for which matrimony was ordained----

However, with regard to my uncle Toby's fitness for the marriage state, nothing was ever better. Nature had formed him of the best and kindliest clay - had tempered it with her own milk, and breathed into it the sweetest spirit - she had made him gentle, generous, and humane - she had filled his heart with trust and confidence, and made it fit for the tenderest offices. - She had moreover considered the other causes for which matrimony was ordained-


The DONATION was not defeated by my uncle _Toby's_ wound.

The gift was not defeated by my uncle Toby's wound.


Now this last article was somewhat apocryphal; and the Devil, who is the great disturber of our faiths in this world, had raised scruples in Mrs. _Wadman's_ brain about it; and like a true devil as he was, had done his own work at the same time, by turning my uncle _Toby's_ Virtue thereupon into nothing but _empty bottles_, _tripes_, _trunk-hose_, and _pantofles_.

Now this wound was somewhat apocryphal; and the Devil had raised scruples in Mrs. Wadman's brain about it; and like the true devil he was, had done his own work at the same time, by turning my uncle Toby's Virtue thereupon into nothing but empty bottles, tripes, trunk-hose, and slippers.


"The two great causes, which conspire with each other to shorten life, says lord _Verulam_, are first----
"The internal spirit, which, like a gentle flame, wastes the body down to death: --And secondly, the external air, that parches the body up to ashes: --which two enemies attacking us on both sides of our bodies together, at length destroy our organs, and render them unfit to carry on the functions of life."

The two great causes which shorten life, says lord Verulam, are:
First: the internal spirit, which, like a gentle flame, wastes the body down to death:
And secondly, the external air, that parches the body: these two enemies, attacking us together, at length destroy our organs, and make them unfit to carry on the functions of life.


This being the state of the case, the road to Longevity was plain; nothing more being required, says his lordship, but to repair the waste committed by the internal spirit, by making the substance of it more thick and dense, by a regular course of opiates on one side, and by refrigerating the heat of it on the other, by three grains and a half of salt-petre every morning before you got up.----

This being the case, the road to Longevity was plain; nothing more being required, (says his lordship), but to repair the waste committed by the internal spirit, by making it more thick and dense with a regular course of opiates, and also by cooling its heat with three grains and a half of salt-petre every morning before you got up.


Still this frame of ours was left exposed to the inimical assaults of the air without; --but this was fenced off again by a course of greasy unctions, which so fully saturated the pores of the skin, that no spicula could enter; ----nor could any one get out.

Still this frame of ours was left exposed to the assaults of the air - but this was fenced off by a course of greasy unctions, which so fully saturated the pores of the skin, that no particles could enter, nor get out.


----This put a stop to all perspiration, sensible and insensible, which being the cause of so many scurvy distempers--a course of clysters was requisite to carry off redundant humours, --and render the system complete.

This put a stop to all perspiration, the cause of so many scurvy distempers - and a course of enemas was needed to make the system complete.


What my father had to say to my lord of _Verulam's_ opiates, his salt-petre, and greasy unctions and clysters, you shall read, --but not to-day--or to-morrow: time presses upon me, --my reader is impatient --I must get forwards.

What my father had to say to my lord of Verulam's opiates, his salt-petre, and greasy unctions and purges, you shall read, - but not today - or tomorrow: time presses upon me, - my reader is impatient - I must get on.


----You shall read the chapter at your leisure (if you chuse it), as soon as ever the _Tristra-pdia_ is published.----

You shall read the chapter at your leisure (if you choose), as soon as the Tristra-paedia is published.


Sufficeth it at present, to say, my father levelled the hypothesis with the ground, and in doing that, the learned know, he built up and established his own.----

Suffice it to say at present, my father destroyed the hypothesis, and in doing so, he established his own.


I had now the whole south of _France_, from the banks of the _Rhne_ to those of the _Garonne_, to traverse upon my mule at my own leisure--_at my own leisure_----for I had left Death, the Lord knows----and He only--how far behind me---- "I have followed many a man thro' _France_, quoth he--but never at this mettlesome rate."

I had now the whole south of France to cross upon my mule at my leisure - for I had left Death far behind me - 'I have followed many a man through France,' quoth he, 'but never at this speed.'


----Still he followed, ----and still I fled him----but I fled him chearfully----still he pursued----but, like one who pursued his prey without hope----as he lagg'd, every step he lost, soften'd his looks----why should I fly him at this rate?

- Still he followed, and still I fled him, but I fled him cheerfully - and he lagged like one without hope of catching his prey. - Why should I fly him at this rate?


So notwithstanding all the commissary of the post-office had said, I changed the _mode_ of my travelling once more; and, after so precipitate and rattling a course as I had run, I flattered my fancy with thinking of my mule, and that I should traverse the rich plains of _Languedoc_ upon his back, as slowly as foot could fall.

So I changed the mode of my travelling once more; and, after running so rapid and rattling a course, I flattered my fancy with thinking that I should cross the rich plains of Languedoc upon my mule's back, as slowly as foot could fall.


There is nothing more pleasing to a traveller----or more terrible to travel-writers, than a large rich plain; especially if it is without great rivers or bridges; and presents nothing to the eye, but one unvaried picture of plenty: for after they have once told you, that 'tis delicious!

There is nothing more pleasing to a traveller - or more terrible to travel-writers, than a large rich plain; especially if it is without great rivers or bridges, and presents nothing to the eye but one unvaried picture of plenty. For after they have told you that 'tis delicious!


(as the case happens)--that the soil was grateful, and that nature pours out all her abundance, &c. . . . they have then a large plain upon their hands, which they know not what to do with--and which is of little or no use to them but to carry them to some town; and that town, perhaps of little more, but a new place to start from to the next plain----and so on.

and that nature pours out her abundance, &c, they have then a large plain upon their hands, which they know not what to do with - and which is of little use to them but to carry them to some town; and that town may be of no more use than as a starting-point for the next plain - and so on.


--This is most terrible work; judge if I don't manage my plains better.


When Dr. _Slop_ entered the back parlour, where my father and my uncle _Toby_ were discoursing upon the nature of women, ----it was hard to determine whether Dr. _Slop's_ figure, or Dr. _Slop's_ presence, occasioned more surprize to them; for as the accident happened so near the house, as not to make it worth while for _Obadiah_ to remount him, ----Obadiah had led him in as he was, _unwiped_, _unappointed_, _unannealed_, with all his stains and blotches on him.

When Dr. Slop entered the back parlour, where my father and my uncle Toby were discussing the nature of women, it was hard to say whether Dr. Slop's appearance, or his presence, surprised them more; for Obadiah had led him in as he was, unwiped, with all his stains and blotches on him.


--He stood like _Hamlet's_ ghost, motionless and speechless, for a full minute and a half at the parlour-door (_Obadiah_ still holding his hand) with all the majesty of mud.

He stood like Hamlet's ghost, motionless and speechless, for a full minute and a half at the parlour-door in all the majesty of mud.


His hinder parts, upon which he had received his fall, totally besmeared, ----and in every other part of him, blotched over in such a manner with _Obadiah's_ explosion, that you would have sworn (without mental reservation) that every grain of it had taken effect.

His hinder parts, upon which he had fallen, were totally besmeared, and every other part so blotched with Obadiah's explosion, that you would have sworn that every grain of it had taken effect.


Here was a fair opportunity for my uncle _Toby_ to have triumphed over my father in his turn; --for no mortal, who had beheld Dr. _Slop_ in that pickle, could have dissented from so much at least, of my uncle _Toby's_ opinion, "That mayhap his sister might not care to let such a Dr. _Slop_ come so near her ****."

Here was an opportunity for my uncle Toby to have triumphed over my father; for no one who beheld Dr. Slop in that pickle, could disagree with my uncle's opinion, 'That mayhap Mrs. Shandy might not care to let Dr. Slop come near her ****.'


But it was the _Argumentum ad hominem_; and if my uncle _Toby_ was not very expert at it, you may think, he might not care to use it. ----No; the reason was, --'twas not his nature to insult.

But 'twas not my uncle Toby's nature to insult.


Dr. _Slop's_ presence at that time, was no less problematical than the mode of it; tho' it is certain, one moment's reflexion in my father might have solved it; for he had apprized Dr. _Slop_ but the week before, that my mother was at her full reckoning; and as the doctor had heard nothing since, 'twas natural and very political too in him, to have taken a ride to _Shandy-Hall_, as he did, merely to see how matters went on.

Had my father reflected a moment, he might have recalled that he had told Dr. Slop only the week before, that my mother was at her full reckoning; and 'twas very natural in the doctor to have ridden to Shandy-Hall, to see how matters went on.


But my father's mind took unfortunately a wrong turn in the investigation; running, like the hypercritick's, altogether upon the ringing of the bell and the rap upon the door, --measuring their distance, and keeping his mind so intent upon the operation as to have power to think of nothing else, ----common-place infirmity of the greatest mathematicians!

But my father's mind took unfortunately a wrong turn; running upon his ringing of the bell and the rap upon the door, measuring the distance betwixt them, and able to think of nothing else.


working with might and main at the demonstration, and so wasting all their strength upon it, that they have none left in them to draw the corollary, to do good with.


The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon the door, struck likewise strong upon the sensorium of my uncle _Toby_, --but it excited a very different train of thoughts; --the two irreconcileable pulsations instantly brought _Stevinus_, the great engineer, along with them, into my uncle _Toby's_ mind.

The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon the door, likewise struck my uncle Toby, - but it excited a very different train of thought; - the noises instantly brought Stevinus, the great engineer, into my uncle Toby's mind.


What business _Stevinus_ had in this affair, --is the greatest problem of all: ----It shall be solved, --but not in the next chapter.

What business Stevinus had in this affair, is the greatest problem of all. - It shall be solved, but not in the next chapter.


----"_I WISH, Dr. Slop_," quoth my uncle _Toby_, (repeating his wish for Dr. _Slop_ a second time, and with a degree of more zeal and earnestness in his manner of wishing, than he had wished at first[3.1])---- "_I wish, Dr. Slop_," quoth my uncle _Toby_, "_you had seen what prodigious armies we had in_ Flanders."

'I wish, Dr. Slop,' quoth my uncle Toby earnestly, - 'I wish you had seen what prodigious armies we had in Flanders.'


My uncle _Toby's_ wish did Dr. _Slop_ a disservice which his heart never intended any man, --Sir, it confounded him----and thereby putting his ideas first into confusion, and then to flight, he could not rally them again for the soul of him.

My uncle Toby's wish did a thing he never intended; - it confounded Dr. Slop - putting his ideas to flight, so that he could not rally them again for the soul of him.


In all disputes, ----male or female, ----whether for honour, for profit, or for love, --it makes no difference in the case; --nothing is more dangerous, Madam, than a wish coming sideways in this unexpected manner upon a man: the safest way in general to take off the force of the wish, is for the party wish'd at, instantly to get upon his legs--and wish the _wisher_ something in return, of pretty near the same value, ----so balancing the account upon the spot, you stand as you were--nay sometimes gain the advantage of the attack by it.

In all disputes, nothing is more dangerous, Madam, than a wish coming sideways in this unexpected manner upon a man. The safest way to take off the force of the wish, is for the party wished at, instantly to stand up and wish the wisher something in return of pretty near the same value, so balancing the account upon the spot.


This will be fully illustrated to the world in my chapter of wishes.--

This will be fully illustrated in my chapter of wishes.


Dr. _Slop_ did not understand the nature of this defence; --he was puzzled with it, and it put an entire stop to the dispute for four minutes and a half; --five had been fatal to it: --my father saw the danger--the dispute was one of the most interesting disputes in the world, "Whether the child of his prayers and endeavours should be born without a head or with one:" --he waited to the last moment, to allow Dr. _Slop_, in whose behalf the wish was made, his right of returning it; but perceiving, I say, that he was confounded, and continued looking with that perplexed vacuity of eye which puzzled souls generally stare with--first in my uncle _Toby's_ face--then in his--then up--then down--then east--east and by east, and so on, ----coasting it along by the plinth of the wainscot till he had got to the opposite point of the compass, ----and that he had actually begun to count the brass nails upon the arm of his chair, --my father thought there was no time to be lost with my uncle _Toby_, so took up the discourse as follows.

Dr. Slop did not understand the nature of this defence; he was puzzled, and it put an entire stop to the dispute for four minutes and a half. Five would have been fatal to it: my father saw the danger. The dispute was most interesting to him - 'Whether the child of his prayers should be born without a head or with one.' He waited till the last moment, to allow Dr. Slop to return the wish; but perceiving that he was confounded, and was looking with that perplexed vacuity of eye which puzzled souls generally stare with - first up - then down - then east - then west, and so on; - and seeing that he had actually begun to count the brass nails upon the arm of his chair, my father thought there was no time to be lost, so took up the discourse as follows.


As soon as the corporal had finished the story of his amour--or rather my uncle _Toby_ for him --Mrs. _Wadman_ silently sallied forth from her arbour, replaced the pin in her mob, pass'd the wicker-gate, and advanced slowly towards my uncle _Toby's_ sentry-box: the disposition which _Trim_ had made in my uncle _Toby's_ mind, was too favourable a crisis to be let slipp'd----

As soon as the corporal had finished the story of his amour, Mrs. Wadman silently sallied forth from her arbour, passed the wicker-gate, and advanced towards my uncle Toby's sentry-box. The effect which Trim had made in my uncle's mind was too favourable a crisis to let slip.


----The attack was determin'd upon: it was facilitated still more by my uncle _Toby's_ having ordered the corporal to wheel off the pioneer's shovel, the spade, the pick-axe, the picquets, and other military stores which lay scatter'd upon the ground where _Dunkirk_ stood--the corporal had march'd--the field was clear.

The attack was determined upon: it was facilitated still more by my uncle Toby's ordering the corporal to move away the shovel, spade, pick-axe, and other military stores which lay scattered upon the ground. - The corporal marched - the field was clear.


Now, consider, sir, what nonsense it is, either in fighting, or writing, or anything else (whether in rhyme to it, or not) which a man has occasion to do--to act by plan: for if ever Plan, independent of all circumstances, deserved registering in letters of gold (I mean in the archives of _Gotham_)--it was certainly the PLAN of Mrs. _Wadman's_ attack of my uncle _Toby_ in his sentry-box, BY PLAN ----Now the plan hanging up in it at this juncture, being the Plan of _Dunkirk_--and the tale of _Dunkirk_ a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she could make: and besides, could she have gone upon it--the manuvre of fingers and hands in the attack of the sentry-box, was so outdone by that of the fair _Beguine's_, in _Trim's_ story--that just then, that particular attack, however successful before--became the most heartless attack that could be made----

If ever Plan deserved registering in letters of gold, it was certainly the Plan of Mrs. Wadman's attack on my uncle Toby in his sentry-box.
Now the plan hanging up in the sentry-box at this point being the plan of Dunkirk, and the tale of Dunkirk a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she could make: and besides, the manoeuvre of fingers and hands in the attack of the sentry-box, was so outdone by the fair Beguine's, in Trim's story, that just then, that particular attack, however successful before, became the most heartless attack that could be made.


Mrs. _Wadman_ had scarce open'd the wicket-gate, when her genius sported with the change of circumstances.

But Mrs. Wadman had scarce opened the wicket-gate, when her mind took in the change of circumstances.


----She formed a new attack in a moment.


The learned Bishop _Hall_, I mean the famous Dr. _Joseph Hall_, who was Bishop of _Exeter_ in King _James_ the First's reign, tells us in one of his _Decads_, at the end of his divine art of meditation, imprinted at _London_, in the year 1610, by _John Beal_, dwelling in _Aldersgate-street_, "That it is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself;" ----and I really think it is so.

The famous Dr. Joseph Hall, who was Bishop of Exeter in King James I's reign, tells us in one of his Decads, printed at London in the year 1610, by John Beal, of Aldersgate-street, 'That it is an abominable thing for a man to praise himself'; and I agree.


And yet, on the other hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of a fashion, which thing is not likely to be found out; --I think it is full as abominable, that a man should lose the honour of it, and go out of the world with the conceit of it rotting in his head.

And yet, on the other hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of a fashion, yet likely to go undiscovered; - I think it is just as abominable that a man should lose the honour of it, and go out of the world with the idea of it rotting in his head.


For in this long digression which I was accidentally led into, as in all my digressions (one only excepted) there is a masterstroke of digressive skill, the merit of which has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my reader, --not for want of penetration in him, --but because 'tis an excellence seldom looked for, or expected indeed, in a digression; --and it is this: That tho' my digressions are all fair, as you observe, --and that I fly off from what I am about, as far, and as often too, as any writer in _Great Britain_; yet I constantly take care to order affairs so that my main business does not stand still in my absence.

For in this long digression which I was accidentally led into, as in all my digressions (apart from one) there is a masterstroke of digressive skill, the merit of which has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my reader, - not for lack of penetration in him, - but because 'tis an excellence seldom expected in a digression; - and it is this:
That though my digressions are all fair, as you observe, and though I fly off from my subject as much as any writer in Great Britain; yet I constantly take care to order affairs so that my main business does not stand still in my absence.


I was just going, for example, to have given you the great outlines of my uncle _Toby's_ most whimsical character; --when my aunt _Dinah_ and the coachman came across us, and led us a vagary some millions of miles into the very heart of the planetary system: Notwithstanding all this, you perceive that the drawing of my uncle _Toby's_ character went on gently all the time; --not the great contours of it, --that was impossible, --but some familiar strokes and faint designations of it, were here and there touch'd on, as we went along, so that you are much better acquainted with my uncle _Toby_ now than you was before.

I was just going, for example, to have given you the outlines of my uncle Toby's character, when my aunt Dinah and the coachman came across us, and led us wandering some millions of miles into the heart of the planetary system. Despite this, you perceive that the drawing of my uncle Toby's character went on gently all the time; - not the great contours of it, but some faint strokes were here and there touched on, as we went along, so that you are much better acquainted with my uncle Toby now than you were before.


By this contrivance the machinery of my work is of a species by itself; two contrary motions are introduced into it, and reconciled, which were thought to be at variance with each other.

By this means, two contrary motions are introduced into the machinery of my work, and reconciled.


In a word, my work is digressive, and it is progressive too, --and at the same time.

In a word, my work is digressive, and progressive too, both at the same time.


This, Sir, is a very different story from that of the earth's moving round her axis, in her diurnal rotation, with her progress in her elliptick orbit which brings about the year, and constitutes that variety and vicissitude of seasons we enjoy; --though I own it suggested the thought, --as I believe the greatest of our boasted improvements and discoveries have come from such trifling hints.

This, Sir, is a very different story from that of the earth's moving round her axis in her daily rotation, along with her progress in her elliptic orbit which brings about the year and our variety of seasons; - though I admit it suggested the thought, as I believe the greatest of our discoveries have come from such trifling hints.


Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine; ----they are the life, the soul of reading!

Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine - they are the life, the soul of reading!


--take them out of this book, for instance, --you might as well take the book along with them; --one cold eternal winter would reign in every page of it; restore them to the writer; --he steps forth like a bridegroom, --bids All-hail; brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.

Take them out of this book, for instance, and you might as well take the book along with them; cold eternal winter would reign in every page. Restore them to the writer; - he steps forth like a bridegroom who bids All-hail to the feast.


All the dexterity is in the good cookery and management of them, so as to be not only for the advantage of the reader, but also of the author, whose distress, in this matter, is truly pitiable: For, if he begins a digression, --from that moment, I observe, his whole work stands stock still; --and if he goes on with his main work, --then there is an end of his digression.

All the skill is in the good cookery and management of these digressions, not only for the advantage of the reader, but also of the author, whose distress, in this matter, is truly pitiable. For, if he begins a digression, from that moment his whole work stands stock still; - and if he goes on with his main work, then there is an end of his digression.


--For which reason, from the beginning of this, you see, I have constructed the main work and the adventitious parts of it with such intersections, and have so complicated and involved the digressive and progressive movements, one wheel within another, that the whole machine, in general, has been kept a-going; --and, what's more, it shall be kept a-going these forty years, if it pleases the fountain of health to bless me so long with life and good spirits.

For which reason, from the start, you see, I have constructed this book with such intersections, and have so complicated and involved the digressive and progressive movements, one wheel within another, that the whole machine, in general, has been kept a-going. What's more, it shall be kept a-going for forty years, if it pleases the fountain of health to bless me so long with life and good spirits.


----You shall see the very place, Madam; said my uncle _Toby_.

'You shall see the very place, Madam,' said my uncle Toby.


Mrs. _Wadman_ blush'd----look'd towards the door----turn'd pale----blush'd slightly again----recover'd her natural colour----blush'd worse than ever; which, for the sake of the unlearned reader, I translate thus----

Mrs. Wadman blushed - looked towards the door - turned pale - blushed again - recovered her natural colour - blushed worse than ever; which, for the sake of the unlearned reader, I translate thus:


I cannot look at it---- What would the world say if I look'd at it?

I cannot look at it - What would the world say if I looked at it?


I should drop down, if I look'd at it-- I wish I could look at it---- There can be no sin in looking at it. ----I will look at it._"

I should drop down, if I looked at it - I wish I could look at it - there can be no sin in looking at it - I will look at it.'


Whilst all this was running through Mrs. _Wadman's_ imagination, my uncle _Toby_ had risen from the sopha, and got to the other side of the parlour door, to give _Trim_ an order about it in the passage----

Whilst all this was running through Mrs. Wadman's imagination, my uncle Toby had risen from the sofa, and left the parlour, to give Trim an order about it in the passage-


* * ----I believe it is in the garret, said my uncle _Toby_ ----I saw it there, an' please your honour, this morning, answered _Trim_ ----Then prithee, step directly for it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and bring it into the parlour.

- 'I believe it is in the garret,' said my uncle Toby.
'I saw it there, your honour, this morning,' answered Trim.
'Then prithee, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'go and bring it into the parlour.'


The corporal did not approve of the orders, but most chearfully obeyed them.

The corporal did not approve of the order, but cheerfully obeyed.


The first was not an act of his will--the second was; so he put on his _Montero_-cap, and went as fast as his lame knee would let him.

He put on his Montero-cap, and went as fast as his lame knee would let him.


My uncle _Toby_ returned into the parlour, and sat himself down again upon the sopha.

My uncle Toby returned into the parlour, and sat himself down again upon the sofa.


----You shall lay your finger upon the place--said my uncle _Toby_.

'You shall lay your finger upon the place,' said my uncle Toby.


----I will not touch it, however, quoth Mrs. _Wadman_ to herself.

'I will not touch it, however,' thought Mrs. Wadman.


This requires a second translation: --it shews what little knowledge is got by mere words--we must go up to the first springs.

This shows what little knowledge is got by mere words - we must go up to the source.


Now in order to clear up the mist which hangs upon these three pages, I must endeavour to be as clear as possible myself.

Now in order to clear up the mist which hangs upon these three pages, I must try to be as clear as possible myself.


Rub your hands thrice across your foreheads--blow your noses--cleanse your emunctories--sneeze, my good people!

Rub your hands thrice across your foreheads - blow your noses - sneeze, my good people!


From this moment I am to be considered as heir-apparent to the _Shandy_ family----and it is from this point properly, that the story of my LIFE and my OPINIONS sets out.

From this moment I am to be considered as heir-apparent to the Shandy family - and it is from this point properly that the story of my Life and my Opinions begins.


With all my hurry and precipitation, I have but been clearing the ground to raise the building----and such a building do I foresee it will turn out, as never was planned, and as never was executed since _Adam_.

With all my hurry, I have merely been clearing the ground to raise the building - and such a building do I foresee it will turn out, as never was planned and executed since Adam.


In less than five minutes I shall have thrown my pen into the fire, and the little drop of thick ink which is left remaining at the bottom of my ink-horn, after it --I have but half a score things to do in the time ----I have a thing to name----a thing to lament----a thing to hope----a thing to promise, and a thing to threaten --I have a thing to suppose--a thing to declare----a thing to conceal----a thing to choose, and a thing to pray for ------This chapter, therefore, I _name_ the chapter of THINGS------and my next chapter to it, that is, the first chapter of my next volume, if I live, shall be my chapter upon WHISKERS, in order to keep up some sort of connection in my works.

In five minutes I shall have thrown my pen into the fire, and my last drop of ink with it. I have ten things to do in that time - I have a thing to name - a thing to lament - a thing to hope - a thing to promise, and a thing to threaten - I have a thing to suppose - a thing to declare - a thing to conceal - a thing to choose, and a thing to pray for.
This chapter, therefore, I name the chapter of Things - and my next chapter, that is, the first chapter of my next volume, shall be my chapter upon Whiskers.


The thing I lament is, that things have crowded in so thick upon me, that I have not been able to get into that part of my work, towards which I have all the way looked forwards, with so much earnest desire; and that is the Campaigns, but especially the amours of my uncle _Toby_, the events of which are of so singular a nature, and so Cervantick a cast, that if I can so manage it, as to convey but the same impressions to every other brain, which the occurrences themselves excite in my own --I will answer for it the book shall make its way in the world, much better than its master has done before it.

The thing I lament is, that things have crowded in so thick upon me, that I have not been able to get into that part of my work, towards which I have always looked forwards with earnest desire; and that is the Campaigns, but especially the amours of my uncle Toby, the events of which are of so singular and Cervantick a nature, that if I can manage to convey the same impressions to every other brain, which they excite in mine - my book shall make its way in the world much better than I have done.


----Oh _Tristram!_ _Tristram!_ can this but be once brought about----the credit, which will attend thee as an author, shall counterbalance the many evils which have befallen thee as a man----thou wilt feast upon the one----when thou hast lost all sense and remembrance of the other!----

Oh Tristram! Tristram! can this but be brought about - thy credit as an author shall counterbalance the many evils which have befallen thee as a man!


No wonder I itch so much as I do, to get at these amours --They are the choicest morsel of my whole story!

No wonder I itch so much to get at these amours. - They are the choicest morsel of my whole story!


and when I do get at 'em----assure yourselves, good folks--(nor do I value whose squeamish stomach takes offence at it) I shall not be at all nice in the choice of my words!

and when I do get at 'em - assure yourselves, good folks, I shall not be dainty in my choice of words!


----and that's the thing I have to _declare_.