"To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons of the Inquisition." --[God help my poor brother _Tom_.]-- "Behold _Religion_, with _Mercy_ and _Justice_ chained down under her feet, ----there sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment. Hark! --hark! what a piteous groan!" --[Here _Trim's_ face turned as pale as ashes.]---- "See the melancholy wretch who uttered it" --[Here the tears began to trickle down.]---- "just brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of cruelty has been able to invent." --[D--n them all, quoth _Trim_, his colour returning into his face as red as blood.]-- "Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his tormentors, --his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement." ----[Oh! 'tis my brother, cried poor _Trim_ in a most passionate exclamation, dropping the sermon upon the ground, and clapping his hands together --I fear 'tis poor _Tom_. My father's and my uncle _Toby's_ heart yearned with sympathy for the poor fellow's distress; even _Slop_ himself acknowledged pity for him. ----Why, _Trim_, said my father, this is not a history, ----'tis a sermon thou art reading; prithee begin the sentence again.]---- "Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his tormentors, --his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see every nerve and muscle as it suffers.

'"To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons of the Inquisition." [God help my poor brother Tom.] "Behold Religion, with Mercy and Justice chained under her feet, there sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment. Hark! what a piteous groan!"' [Here Trim's face turned as pale as ashes.] '"See the melancholy wretch who uttered it-"' [Here the tears began to trickle down] '"-brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of cruelty has been able to invent." ['D__n them all,' quoth Trim.] '"Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement-"
['Oh! 'tis my brother,' cried poor Trim, dropping the sermon upon the ground. My father and my uncle, and even Slop himself, pitied the poor fellow's distress.
'Why, Trim,' said my father, 'this is not a history, 'tis a sermon: prithee begin the sentence again.']
'"Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see every nerve and muscle as it suffers.
