Four years at his _probations_ and his _negations_--the fine statue still lying in the middle of the marble block, --and nothing done, but his tools sharpened to hew it out! --'Tis a piteous delay! --Was not the great _Julius Scaliger_ within an ace of never getting his tools sharpened at all? ------Forty-four years old was he before he could manage his Greek; --and _Peter Damianus_, lord bishop of _Ostia_, as all the world knows, could not so much as read, when he was of man's estate. --And _Baldus_ himself, as eminent as he turned out after, entered upon the law so late in life, that everybody imagined he intended to be an advocate in the other world: no wonder, when _Eudamidas_, the son of _Archidamas_, heard _Xenocrates_ at seventy-five disputing about _wisdom_, that he asked gravely, --_If the old man be yet disputing and enquiring concerning wisdom, --what time will he have to make use of it?_

'Four years at his probations and negations - with the fine statue still lying in the middle of the marble block, and nothing done, except his tools sharpened to hew it out! 'Tis a piteous delay! Was not the great Julius Scaliger within an ace of never getting his tools sharpened at all? Forty-four years old was he before he could manage Greek; and Peter Damianus, bishop of Ostia, as all the world knows, could not read even when he was full-grown. Baldus entered the law so late in life, that everybody imagined he intended to be an advocate in the other world.
'No wonder that, when Eudamidas heard Xenocrates at seventy-five discussing wisdom, he asked gravely, "If the old man is still disputing wisdom, what time will he have to make use of it?"'


_Yorick_ listened to my father with great attention; there was a seasoning of wisdom unaccountably mixed up with his strangest whims, and he had sometimes such illuminations in the darkest of his eclipses, as almost atoned for them: --be wary, Sir, when you imitate him.

Yorick listened to my father with great attention; there was a seasoning of wisdom mixed up with his strangest whims, and he had sometimes such illuminations in the darkest of his eclipses, as almost atoned for them.


I am convinced, _Yorick_, continued my father, half reading and half discoursing, that there is a North-west passage to the intellectual world; and that the soul of man has shorter ways of going to work, in furnishing itself with knowledge and instruction, than we generally take with it. ----But, alack! all fields have not a river or a spring running besides them; --every child, _Yorick_, has not a parent to point it out.

'I am convinced, Yorick,' continued my father, 'that there is a North-west passage to the intellectual world; and that the soul of man has shorter ways of acquiring knowledge, than we generally take. But, alack! Not every child, Yorick, has a parent to point it out.


----The whole entirely depends, added my father, in a low voice, upon the _auxiliary verbs_, Mr. _Yorick_.

'It entirely depends,' added my father in a low voice, 'upon the auxiliary verbs.'


Had _Yorick_ trod upon _Virgil's_ snake, he could not have looked more surprised. --I am surprised too, cried my father, observing it, --and I reckon it as one of the greatest calamities which ever befel the republic of letters, That those who have been entrusted with the education of our children, and whose business it was to open their minds, and stock them early with ideas, in order to set the imagination loose upon them, have made so little use of the auxiliary verbs in doing it, as they have done ----So that, except _Raymond Lullius_, and the elder _Pelegrini_, the last of which arrived to such perfection in the use of 'em, with his topics, that, in a few lessons, he could teach a young gentleman to discourse with plausibility upon any subject, _pro_ and _con_, and to say and write all that could be spoken or written concerning it, without blotting a word, to the admiration of all who beheld him. --I should be glad, said _Yorick_, interrupting my father, to be made to comprehend this matter. You shall, said my father.

Yorick could not have looked more surprised.
'I am surprised too,' cried my father, observing it. 'I think it one of the greatest calamities, that those who have been entrusted with our children's education, and whose business it was to open their minds, and stock them early with ideas, have made so little use of the auxiliary verbs. - So that, except Raymond Lullius, and the elder Pelegrini, who used them so perfectly that, in a few lessons, he could teach a young gentleman to discuss any subject, pro and con, to the admiration of all-'
'I should be glad,' said Yorick, interrupting, 'to understand this matter.'
'You shall,' said my father.


The highest stretch of improvement a single word is capable of, is a high metaphor, ----for which, in my opinion, the idea is generally the worse, and not the better; ----but be that as it may, --when the mind has done that with it--there is an end, --the mind and the idea are at rest, --until a second idea enters; ----and so on.

'The greatest improvement a single word is capable of, is a high metaphor, - for which, in my opinion, the idea is generally the worse - but be that as it may - when the mind has done that, there is an end; the mind is at rest, until a second idea enters; and so on.


Now the use of the _Auxiliaries_ is, at once to set the soul a-going by herself upon the materials as they are brought her; and by the versability of this great engine, round which they are twisted, to open new tracts of enquiry, and make every idea engender millions.

'Now the use of the Auxiliaries is to set the soul a-going by herself upon the word; and by twisting them round this great engine, to open new areas of enquiry, and make every idea engender millions.'


You excite my curiosity greatly, said _Yorick_.

'You excite my curiosity greatly,' said Yorick.


For my own part, quoth my uncle _Toby_, I have given it up. ----The _Danes_, an' please your honour, quoth the corporal, who were on the left at the siege of _Limerick_, were all auxiliaries. ----And very good ones, said my uncle _Toby_. --But the auxiliaries, _Trim_, my brother is talking about, --I conceive to be different things.----

'For my own part,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'I have given up.'
'The Danes who were on the left at the siege of Limerick,' quoth corporal Trim, 'were all auxiliaries.'
'And very good ones,' said my uncle Toby. 'But the auxiliaries my brother is talking about, I imagine to be different things.'


----All you need say of _Fontainbleau_ (in case you are ask'd) is, that it stands about forty miles (south _something_) from _Paris_, in the middle of a large forest ----That there is something great in it ----That the king goes there once every two or three years, with his whole court, for the pleasure of the chase--and that, during that carnival of sporting, any _English_ gentleman of fashion (you need not forget yourself) may be accommodated with a nag or two, to partake of the sport, taking care only not to out-gallop the king----

All you need say of Fontainebleau, if you are asked, is that it stands about forty miles from Paris, in the middle of a large forest - that the king goes there every two or three years, with his court, to hunt - and any English gentleman of fashion may be loaned a horse to join in, taking care only not to out-gallop the king.


Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to every one.

Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to everyone.


First, Because 'twill make the said nags the harder to be got; and

First, because 'twill make the said nags the harder to be got; and


Secondly, 'Tis not a word of it true. ----_Allons!_

Secondly, because 'tis not a word of it true. Allons!


As for SENS----you may dispatch--in a word------ "_'Tis an archiepiscopal see_."

As for Sens - you may dispatch it in a word - ''Tis an archiepiscopal see.'


----For JOIGNY--the less, I think, one says of it the better.

For Joigny - the less one says of it the better.


But for AUXERRE --I could go on for ever: for in my _grand tour_ through _Europe_, in which, after all, my father (not caring to trust me with any one) attended me himself, with my uncle _Toby_, and _Trim_, and _Obadiah_, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breeches--(the thing is common sense)--and she not caring to be put out of her way, she staid at home, at SHANDY HALL, to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at _Auxerre_, and his researches being ever of such a nature, that they would have found fruit even in a desert----he has left me enough to say upon AUXERRE: in short, wherever my father went----but 'twas more remarkably so, in this journey through _France_ and _Italy_, than in any other stages of his life----his road seemed to lie so much on one side of that, wherein all other travellers have gone before him--he saw kings and courts and silks of all colours, in such strange lights----and his remarks and reasonings upon the characters, the manners, and customs, of the countries we pass'd over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men, particularly those of my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_--(to say nothing of myself)--and to crown all--the occurrences and scrapes which we were perpetually meeting and getting into, in consequence of his systems and opiniatry--they were of so odd, so mix'd and tragi-comical a contexture --That the whole put together, it appears of so different a shade and tint from any tour of _Europe_, which was ever executed--that I will venture to pronounce--the fault must be mine and mine only--if it be not read by all travellers and travel-readers, till travelling is no more, --or which comes to the same point--till the world, finally, takes it into its head to stand still.----

But as for Auxerre - I could go on for ever: for in my grand tour through Europe, in which my father accompanied me, with my uncle Toby, and Trim, and Obadiah, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breeches, stayed at home at Shandy Hall to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at Auxerre, his researches left me plenty to say upon it - in short, wherever my father went - but especially in this journey through France and Italy - he saw kings and courts in such strange lights - and his remarks upon the characters and customs of the countries we passed over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men - and to crown all - the scrapes which we were perpetually getting into, because of his opinions, were so odd and tragi-comical - and the whole tour appears so different from any other tour of Europe which was ever executed - that I venture to say the fault must be mine if it be not read by all travellers, till the world stands still.


----But this rich bale is not to be open'd now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my father's stay at AUXERRE.

But this rich bale is not to be opened now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my father's stay at Auxerre, since I have mentioned it.


----As I have mentioned it--'tis too slight to be kept suspended; and when 'tis wove in, there is an end of it.


We'll go, brother _Toby_, said my father, whilst dinner is coddling--to the abby of Saint _Germain_, if it be only to see these bodies, of which Monsieur _Sequier_ has given such a recommendation. ----I'll go see any body, quoth my uncle _Toby_; for he was all compliance through every step of the journey ----Defend me! said my father--they are all mummies ----Then one need not shave; quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----Shave! no--cried my father--'twill be more like relations to go with our beards on --So out we sallied, the corporal lending his master his arm, and bringing up the rear, to the abby of Saint _Germain_.

'We'll go, brother Toby,' said my father, 'to the abbey of Saint Germain, to see these bodies which Monsieur Sequier recommends.'
'I'll go see any body,' quoth my uncle Toby; for he was all compliance throughout the journey.
'They are all mummies,' said my father.
'Then one need not shave,' quoth my uncle.
'Shave! No,' cried my father - ''twill be more like family to go with our beards on.'
So out we went to the abbey of Saint Germain.


Everything is very fine, and very rich, and very superb, and very magnificent, said my father, addressing himself to the sacristan, who was a younger brother of the order of _Benedictines_--but our curiosity has led us to see the bodies, of which Monsieur _Sequier_ has given the world so exact a description. --The sacristan made a bow, and lighting a torch first, which he had always in the vestry ready for the purpose; he led us into the tomb of St. _Heribald_ ----This, said the sacristan, laying his hand upon the tomb, was a renowned prince of the house of _Bavaria_, who under the successive reigns of _Charlemagne_, _Louis le Debonnair_, and _Charles the Bald_, bore a great sway in the government, and had a principal hand in bringing everything into order and discipline----

'Everything is very fine, and very rich, and very superb, and very magnificent,' said my father to the sacristan, who was a Benedictine - 'but we hoped to see the bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has given the world so exact a description.'
The sacristan bowed, and lighting a torch, he led us into the tomb of St. Heribald.
'This,' said the sacristan, laying his hand upon the tomb, 'was a renowned prince of Bavaria, who under the reigns of Charlemagne, Louis and Charles the Bald, held great sway in the government.'


Then he has been as great, said my uncle, in the field, as in the cabinet ----I dare say he has been a gallant soldier ----He was a monk--said the sacristan.

'I dare say he was a gallant soldier too,' said my uncle.
'He was a monk,' said the sacristan.


My uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ sought comfort in each other's faces--but found it not: my father clapped both his hands upon his cod-piece, which was a way he had when anything hugely tickled him: for though he hated a monk and the very smell of a monk worse than all the devils in hell----yet the shot hitting my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ so much harder than him, 'twas a relative triumph; and put him into the gayest humour in the world.

My uncle Toby and Trim looked at each other, dismayed; but my father clapped both his hands upon his cod-piece, which was a way he had when anything hugely tickled him: for though he hated a monk worse than all the devils in hell - yet this shot hitting my uncle Toby put him into the gayest humour in the world.


----And pray what do you call this gentleman? quoth my father, rather sportingly: This tomb, said the young _Benedictine_, looking downwards, contains the bones of Saint MAXIMA, who came from _Ravenna_ on purpose to touch the body----

'And pray what do you call this gentleman?' quoth my father sportingly.
'This tomb,' said the young Benedictine, 'contains the bones of Saint Maxima, who came from Ravenna


----Of Saint MAXIMUS, said my father, popping in with his saint before him, --they were two of the greatest saints in the whole martyrology, added my father ----Excuse me, said the sacristan--------'twas to touch the bones of Saint _Germain_, the builder of the abby ----And what did she get by it? said my uncle _Toby_ ----What does any woman get by it? said my father ----MARTYRDOME; replied the young _Benedictine_, making a bow down to the ground, and uttering the word with so humble but decisive a cadence, it disarmed my father for a moment. 'Tis supposed, continued the _Benedictine_, that St. _Maxima_ has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonization----'Tis but a slow rise, brother _Toby_, quoth my father, in this self-same army of martyrs. ----A desperate slow one, an' please your honour, said _Trim_, unless one could purchase ----I should rather sell out entirely, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----I am pretty much of your opinion, brother _Toby_, said my father.

 to touch the bones of Saint Germain, the builder of the abbey.'
'And what did she get by it?' said my uncle Toby.
'What does any woman get by it?' said my father.
'Martyrdom,' replied the young Benedictine, with so humble yet decisive a tone, it disarmed my father for a moment. ''Tis supposed,' continued the Benedictine, 'that St. Maxima has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonization.'
''Tis a slow rise, brother Toby,' quoth my father, 'in this army of martyrs.'
'A desperate slow one, your honour,' said Trim.


----Poor St. _Maxima!_ said my uncle _Toby_ low to himself, as we turn'd from her tomb: She was one of the fairest and most beautiful ladies either of _Italy_ or _France_, continued the sacristan ----But who the duce has got lain down here, besides her? quoth my father, pointing with his cane to a large tomb as we walked on ----It is Saint _Optat_, Sir, answered the sacristan ----And properly is Saint _Optat_ plac'd! said my father: And what is Saint _Optat's_ story? continued he. Saint _Optat_, replied the sacristan, was a bishop----

'Poor St. Maxima!' said my uncle Toby low to himself.
'She was one of the fairest ladies of Italy or France,' continued the sacristan.
'But who the deuce has got lain down here?' quoth my father, pointing with his cane to a large tomb as we walked on.
'It is Saint Optat, Sir,' answered the sacristan.
'And what is Saint Optat's story?'
'Saint Optat was a bishop-'


----I thought so, by heaven! cried my father, interrupting him ----Saint _Optat!_----how should Saint _Optat_ fail? so snatching out his pocket-book, and the young _Benedictine_ holding him the torch as he wrote, he set it down as a new prop to his system of Christian names, and I will be bold to say, so disinterested was he in the search of truth, that had he found a treasure in Saint _Optat's_ tomb, it would not have made him half so rich: 'Twas as successful a short visit as ever was paid to the dead; and so highly was his fancy pleas'd with all that had passed in it, --that he determined at once to stay another day in _Auxerre_.

'I thought so, by heaven!' cried my father, interrupting him. 'Saint Optat!' and snatching out his pocket-book, he wrote it down as a new prop to his system of christian names. I will be so bold as to say that even if he had found a treasure in Saint Optat's tomb, it would not have made him half so rich. 'Twas as successful a visit as ever was paid to the dead; and so pleased was my father that he determined at once to stay another day in Auxerre.


--I'll see the rest of these good gentry to-morrow, said my father, as we cross'd over the square --And while you are paying that visit, brother _Shandy_, quoth my uncle _Toby_--the corporal and I will mount the ramparts.

'I'll see the rest of these good gentry to-morrow,' said my father, as we crossed the square.
'And while you are paying that visit, brother,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'the corporal and I will mount the ramparts.'


My father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half before he began to play upon the floor with the toe of that foot which hung over the bed-side; my uncle _Toby's_ heart was a pound lighter for it. ------In a few moments, his left-hand, the knuckles of which had all the time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, came to its feeling--he thrust it a little more within the valance--drew up his hand, when he had done, into his bosom--gave a hem! My good uncle _Toby_, with infinite pleasure, answered it; and full gladly would have ingrafted a sentence of consolation upon the opening it afforded: but having no talents, as I said, that way, and fearing moreover that he might set out with something which might make a bad matter worse, he contented himself with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch.

My father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half, before he began to play upon the floor with the foot which hung over the bed-side; my uncle Toby's heart was lighter for it.
In a few moments, his left-hand, which had all the time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, thrust it a little more under the bed - he drew up his hand - gave a hem! My good uncle Toby, with infinite pleasure, answered it; and gladly would have added a sentence of consolation: but having no talents that way, and fearing that he might say something to make a bad matter worse, he contented himself with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch.


Now whether the compression shortened my uncle _Toby's_ face into a more pleasurable oval--or that the philanthropy of his heart, in seeing his brother beginning to emerge out of the sea of his afflictions, had braced up his muscles----so that the compression upon his chin only doubled the benignity which was there before, is not hard to decide. ----My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam of sunshine in his face, as melted down the sullenness of his grief in a moment.

Now whether the compression shortened my uncle Toby's face into a more pleasurable oval - or whether the philanthropy of his heart braced up his muscles, doubling the benignity which was there before, is not hard to decide. My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam of sunshine in his face, as melted the sullenness of his grief in a moment.


"Now before I quit _Calais_," a travel-writer would say, "it would not be amiss to give some account of it." --Now I think it very much amiss--that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely o' my conscience for the sake of drawing it; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have _wrote and gallop'd_--or who have _gallop'd and wrote_, which is a different way still; or who, for more expedition than the rest, have _wrote galloping_, which is the way I do at present----from the great _Addison_, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his a--, and galling his beast's crupper at every stroke--there is not a gallopper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground (in case he had any), and have wrote all he had to write, dryshod, as well as not.

'Now before I leave Calais,' a travel-writer would say, 'it would not be amiss to give some account of it.'
Now I think it very much amiss that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him; but he must be taking out his pen at every kennel he crosses over, for the sake of describing it. If we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and galloped - or who have galloped and wrote - or who have wrote galloping, which is the way I do - from the great Addison, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his a___, there is not a galloper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground, and have wrote all he had to write there.


For my own part, as heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appeal --I know no more of _Calais_ (except the little my barber told me of it as he was whetting his razor), than I do this moment of _Grand Cairo_; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out, and yet by merely knowing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that together in another --I would lay any travelling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon _Calais_ as long as my arm; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item, which is worth a stranger's curiosity in the town--that you would take me for the town-clerk of _Calais_ itself--and where, sir, would be the wonder? was not _Democritus_, who laughed ten times more than I--town-clerk of _Abdera?_ and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town-clerk of _Ephesus?_ ----it should be penn'd moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precision----

For my own part, as heaven is my judge - I know no more of Calais (except the little my barber told me of it as he was sharpening his razor), than I do of Cairo; for it was dusky evening when I landed, and as dark as pitch in the morning when I set out. Yet by merely knowing what is what, and by putting this and that together, I would lay odds that I could this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm; and with such distinct and satisfactory detail that you would take me for the town-clerk himself.
- It should be penned moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precision-


--Nay--if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains.

- Nay - if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter.


It is about an hour and a half's tolerable good reading since my uncle _Toby_ rung the bell, when _Obadiah_ was ordered to saddle a horse, and go for Dr. _Slop_, the man-midwife; --so that no one can say, with reason, that I have not allowed _Obadiah_ time enough, poetically speaking, and considering the emergency too, both to go and come; ----though, morally and truly speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots.

It is about an hour and a half's good reading since my uncle Toby rung the bell, and Obadiah was ordered to go for Dr. Slop, the man-midwife; so no one can say that I have not allowed Obadiah time enough, poetically speaking, to go and return; - though, truly speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots.


If the hypercritick will go upon this; and is resolved after all to take a pendulum, and measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell, and the rap at the door; --and, after finding it to be no more than two minutes, thirteen seconds, and three fifths, --should take upon him to insult over me for such a breach in the unity, or rather probability of time; --I would remind him, that the idea of duration, and of its simple modes, is got merely from the train and succession of our ideas, ----and is the true scholastic pendulum, ----and by which, as a scholar, I will be tried in this matter, --abjuring and detesting the jurisdiction of all other pendulums whatever.

If the critic is resolved to measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell and the rap at the door; and, finding it to be no more than two minutes thirteen seconds, should decide to insult me for such a breach in the probability of time; - I would remind him that the idea of duration is got merely from the succession of our ideas.


I would therefore desire him to consider that it is but poor eight miles from _Shandy-Hall_ to Dr. _Slop_, the man-midwife's house; --and that whilst _Obadiah_ has been going those said miles and back, I have brought my uncle _Toby_ from _Namur_, quite across all _Flanders_, into _England_: --That I have had him ill upon my hands near four years; --and have since travelled him and Corporal _Trim_ in a chariot-and-four, a journey of near two hundred miles down into _Yorkshire_, ----all which put together, must have prepared the reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. _Slop_ upon the stage, --as much, at least (I hope) as a dance, a song, or a concerto between the acts.

I would ask him to consider that it is only eight miles from Shandy-Hall to Dr. Slop's house; and that whilst Obadiah has been going there and back, I have brought my uncle Toby from Namur, across all Flanders, into England: - that I have had him ill upon my hands four years; - and have taken him and Corporal Trim a journey of near two hundred miles into Yorkshire, all of which must have prepared the reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. Slop upon the stage.


If my hypercritick is intractable, alledging, that two minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds, --when I have said all I can about them; and that this plea, though it might save me dramatically, will damn me biographically, rendering my book from this very moment, a professed ROMANCE, which, before, was a book apocryphal: ----If I am thus pressed --I then put an end to the whole objection and controversy about it all at once, ----by acquainting him, that _Obadiah_ had not got above threescore yards from the stable-yard before he met with Dr. _Slop_; --and indeed he gave a dirty proof that he had met with him, and was within an ace of giving a tragical one too.

If my critic is intractable, alleging that two minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds, and will render my book a Romance - if I am thus pressed - I then put an end to the whole objection, by informing him that Obadiah had got no more than sixty yards from the stable before he met with Dr. Slop; and indeed he gave a dirty proof that he had met with him, and was within an ace of giving a tragical one too.


Imagine to yourself; --but this had better begin a new chapter.

Imagine to yourself - but this had better begin a new chapter.


There will be just time, whilst my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. _Wadman_ had, some moons before this, made a confident of my mother; and that Mrs. _Bridget_, who had the burden of her own, as well as her mistress's secret to carry, had got happily delivered of both to _Susannah_ behind the garden-wall.

There will be just time, whilst my uncle Toby and Trim are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. Wadman had, some months before this, confided in my mother; and that Mrs. Bridget, who had the burden of her own and her mistress's secret to carry, had got happily delivered of both to Susannah behind the garden-wall.


As for my mother, she saw nothing at all in it, to make the least bustle about----but _Susannah_ was sufficient by herself for all the ends and purposes you could possibly have, in exporting a family secret; for she instantly imparted it by signs to _Jonathan_----and _Jonathan_ by tokens to the cook as she was basting a loin of mutton; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat, who truck'd it with the dairy maid for something of about the same value----and though whisper'd in the hay-loft, FAME caught the notes with her brazen trumpet, and sounded them upon the house-top --In a word, not an old woman in the village or five miles round, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle _Toby's_ siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender.----

As for my mother, she saw nothing in it to make a fuss about - but Susannah was the perfect means to export a family secret; for she instantly imparted it to Jonathan, and Jonathan to the cook; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat, who traded it with the dairy maid for something of about the same value - and though whispered in the hay-loft, Fame caught the notes with her brazen trumpet, and sounded them upon the house-top.
In a word, there was not an old woman in the village or five miles round, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle Toby's siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender.


My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means never man crucified TRUTH at the rate he did----had but just heard of the report as my uncle _Toby_ set out; and catching fire suddenly at the trespass done his brother by it, was demonstrating to _Yorick_, notwithstanding my mother was sitting by----not only, "That the devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was lust;" but that every evil and disorder in the world, of what kind or nature soever, from the first fall of _Adam_, down to my uncle _Toby's_ (inclusive), was owing one way or other to the same unruly appetite.

My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means no man ever crucified Truth at the rate he did - had just heard of the report as my uncle Toby set out; and was demonstrating to Yorick, despite my mother sitting by - not only 'That the devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was lust;' but that every evil and disorder in the world, of whatever kind, from the first fall of Adam down to my uncle Toby's, was owing one way or other to the same unruly appetite.


_Yorick_ was just bringing my father's hypothesis to some temper, when my uncle _Toby_ entering the room with marks of infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, my father's eloquence rekindled against the passion----and as he was not very nice in the choice of his words when he was wroth----as soon as my uncle _Toby_ was seated by the fire, and had filled his pipe, my father broke out in this manner.

Yorick was trying to make my father's hypothesis more temperate, when my uncle Toby entered the room. At the infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, my father's eloquence rekindled against the passion - and as he was not very fastidious in his choice of words when he was angry, as soon as my uncle Toby was seated by the fire, my father broke out in this manner.


With two or three other trinkets, small in themselves, but of great regard, which poor _Tom_, the corporal's unfortunate brother, had sent him over, with the account of his marriage with the _Jew's_ widow----there was

Poor Tom, the corporal's unfortunate brother who married the Jew's widow, had sent him over some trinkets, amongst which there was


A _Montero_-cap and two _Turkish_ tobacco-pipes.

A Montero-cap and two Turkish tobacco-pipes.


The _Montero_-cap I shall describe by and bye. ----The _Turkish_ tobacco-pipes had nothing particular in them, they were fitted up and ornamented as usual, with flexible tubes of _Morocco_ leather and gold wire, and mounted at their ends, the one of them with ivory, --the other with black ebony, tipp'd with silver.

The Turkish tobacco-pipes were ornamented with flexible tubes of Morocco leather and gold wire, and mounted at their ends, one with ivory, the other with black ebony, tipped with silver.


My father, who saw all things in lights different from the rest of the world, would say to the corporal, that he ought to look upon these two presents more as tokens of his brother's nicety, than his affection. ----_Tom_ did not care, _Trim_, he would say, to put on the cap, or to smoke in the tobacco-pipe of a _Jew_. ----God bless your honour, the corporal would say, (giving a strong reason to the contrary)--how can that be?


The Montero-cap was scarlet, of a superfine _Spanish_ cloth, dyed in grain, and mounted all round with fur, except about four inches in the front, which was faced with a light blue, slightly embroidered, --and seemed to have been the property of a _Portuguese_ quartermaster, not of foot, but of horse, as the word denotes.

The Montero-cap was scarlet, of a superfine Spanish cloth, mounted all round with fur, except about four inches in the front, which was faced with a light blue embroidered cloth. It seemed to have been the property of a Portuguese quartermaster.


The corporal was not a little proud of it, as well for its own sake, as the sake of the giver, so seldom or never put it on but upon GALA-days; and yet never was a Montero-cap put to so many uses; for in all controverted points, whether military or culinary, provided the corporal was sure he was in the right, --it was either his _oath_, --his _wager_, --or his _gift_.

The corporal was proud of it, for its own sake as well as for the sake of the giver, so he seldom wore it; and yet never was a Montero-cap put to so many uses; for in all disputed points, provided the corporal was sure he was in the right, it was either his oath, his wager, or his gift.


I'll be bound, said the corporal, speaking to himself, to _give_ away my Montero-cap to the first beggar who comes to the door, if I do not manage this matter to his honour's satisfaction.

'I'll be bound,' said the corporal to himself, 'to give away my Montero-cap to the first beggar who comes to the door, if I do not manage this matter to his honour's satisfaction.'


The completion was no further off than the very next morning; which was that of the storm of the counterscarp betwixt the _Lower Deule_, to the right, and the gate _St. Andrew_, --and on the left, between St. _Magdalen's_ and the river.

He completed it the very next morning; which was that of the storm of the counterscarp betwixt the Lower Deule and St Andrew's Gate; and on the left, between St. Magdalen's and the river.


As this was the most memorable attack in the whole war, --the most gallant and obstinate on both sides, --and I must add the most bloody too, for it cost the allies themselves that morning above eleven hundred men, --my uncle _Toby_ prepared himself for it with a more than ordinary solemnity.

As this was the most memorable, gallant and bloody attack in the whole war, my uncle Toby prepared himself for it with more than ordinary solemnity.


The eve which preceded, as my uncle _Toby_ went to bed, he ordered his ramallie wig, which had laid inside out for many years in the corner of an old compaigning trunk, which stood by his bedside, to be taken out and laid upon the lid of it, ready for the morning; --and the very first thing he did in his shirt, when he had stepped out of bed, my uncle _Toby_, after he had turned the rough side outwards, --put it on: ----This done, he proceeded next to his breeches, and having buttoned the waistband, he forthwith buckled on his sword-belt, and had got his sword half way in, --when he considered he should want shaving, and that it would be very inconvenient doing it with his sword on, --so took it off: ----In assaying to put on his regimental coat and waistcoat, my uncle _Toby_ found the same objection in his wig, --so that went off too: --So that what with one thing and what with another, as always falls out when a man is in the most haste, --'twas ten o'clock, which was half an hour later than his usual time, before my uncle _Toby_ sallied out.

The evening before, as my uncle Toby went to bed, he ordered his ramallie wig, which had laid inside out for many years in the corner of an old campaigning trunk, to be taken out, ready for the morning; - and the first thing he did, when he had stepped out of bed, was to put it on.
He proceeded next to his breeches, and buckled on his sword-belt. He had got his sword half way in, when he considered he should want shaving, and that it would be very inconvenient doing it with his sword on, so took it off. He then found the same objection in his wig - so that went off too. So that what with one thing and another, 'twas ten o'clock, half an hour later than his usual time, before my uncle Toby sallied out.


----We'll not stop two moments, my dear Sir, --only, as we have got through these five volumes,[6.1] (do, Sir, sit down upon a set----they are better than nothing) let us just look back upon the country we have pass'd through.----

We'll not stop two moments, my dear Sir, - only, as we have got through five volumes, (do, Sir, sit down upon a set - they are better than nothing) let us just look back upon the country we have passed through.


----What a wilderness has it been! and what a mercy that we have not both of us been lost, or devoured by wild beasts in it!

- What a wilderness has it been! and what a mercy that we have not been lost in it!


Did you think the world itself, Sir, had contained such a number of Jack Asses? ----How they view'd and review'd us as we passed over the rivulet at the bottom of that little valley! ----and when we climbed over that hill, and were just getting out of sight--good God! what a braying did they all set up together!

Did you think the world contained so many Jack Asses? How they viewed and reviewed us as we passed over the bottom of that little valley! and when we climbed that hill, and were just getting out of sight - good God! what a braying did they all set up!


----Prithee, shepherd! who keeps all those Jack Asses? * * *


----Heaven be their comforter ----What! are they never curried? ----Are they never taken in in winter? ----Bray bray--bray. Bray on, --the world is deeply your debtor; ----louder still--that's nothing: --in good sooth, you are ill-used: ----Was I a Jack Asse, I solemnly declare, I would bray in G-fol-re-ut from morning, even unto night.

What! are they never groomed? Never taken in in winter? Bray - bray, bray on - louder still - that's nothing. Was I a Jack Ass, I solemnly declare, I would bray from morning until night.


[Footnote 6.1: In the first edition, the sixth volume began with this chapter.]


My uncle _Toby's_ Map is carried down into the kitchen.

My uncle Toby's Map is carried down into the kitchen.


"It is with Love as with Cuckoldom"----the suffering party is at least the _third_, but generally the last in the house who knows anything about the matter: this comes, as all the world knows, from having half a dozen words for one thing; and so long, as what in this vessel of the human frame, is _Love_--may be _Hatred_, in that----_Sentiment_ half a yard higher----and _Nonsense_----------no, Madam, --not there ----I mean at the part I am now pointing to with my forefinger----how can we help ourselves?

'It is with Love as with Cuckoldom' - the suffering party is generally the last who knows anything about it: this comes from having half a dozen words for one thing; and so long as what to one man's breast is Love may be Hatred, in another - or Sentiment or Nonsense - no Madam, not there, I mean the part I am pointing at - how can we help ourselves?


Of all mortal, and immortal men too, if you please, who ever soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle _Toby_ was the worst fitted, to have push'd his researches, thro' such a contention of feelings; and he had infallibly let them all run on, as we do worse matters, to see what they would turn out----had not _Bridget's_ pre-notification of them to _Susannah_, and _Susannah's_ repeated manifestoes thereupon to all the world, made it necessary for my uncle _Toby_ to look into the affair.

Of all mortal men who ever soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle Toby was the worst fitted to have pushed his researches through such a trial of feelings; and he would have let them run on, to see how they would turn out - had not Bridget's telling of them to Susannah, and Susannah's disclosure to all the world, made it necessary for my uncle Toby to look into the affair.


I wish I could write a chapter upon sleep.


A fitter occasion could never have presented itself, than what this moment offers, when all the curtains of the family are drawn--the candles put out--and no creature's eyes are open but a single one, for the other has been shut these twenty years, of my mother's nurse.

A fitter occasion could never have presented itself than this moment, when all the curtains are drawn - the candles put out - and no creature's eyes are open but a single one, of my mother's nurse.


And yet, as fine as it is, I would undertake to write a dozen chapters upon button-holes, both quicker and with more fame, than a single chapter upon this.

And yet, fine as it is, I would rather write a dozen chapters upon button-holes than a single chapter upon this.


Button-holes! there is something lively in the very idea of 'em----and trust me, when I get amongst 'em ----You gentry with great beards----look as grave as you will ------I'll make merry work with my button-holes --I shall have 'em all to myself--'tis a maiden subject --I shall run foul of no man's wisdom or fine sayings in it.

Button-holes! there is something lively in the very idea of 'em - and trust me, when I get amongst 'em - You gentry look as grave as you will - I'll make merry work with my button-holes. I shall have 'em all to myself - 'tis a maiden subject - I shall run foul of no man's fine sayings in it.


But for sleep ----I know I shall make nothing of it before I begin --I am no dab at your fine sayings in the first place--and in the next, I cannot for my soul set a grave face upon a bad matter, and tell the world--'tis the refuge of the unfortunate--the enfranchisement of the prisoner--the downy lap of the hopeless, the weary, and the broken-hearted; nor could I set out with a lye in my mouth, by affirming, that of all the soft and delicious functions of our nature, by which the great Author of it, in his bounty, has been pleased to recompense the sufferings wherewith his justice and his good pleasure has wearied us----that this is the chiefest (I know pleasures worth ten of it); or what a happiness it is to man, when the anxieties and passions of the day are over, and he lies down upon his back, that his soul shall be so seated within him, that whichever way she turns her eyes, the heavens shall look calm and sweet above her--no desire--or fear--or doubt that troubles the air, nor any difficulty past, present, or to come, that the imagination may not pass over without offence, in that sweet secession.

But as for sleep - I know I shall make nothing of it before I begin. I am no dab hand at fine sayings in the first place, and in the next, I cannot for my soul look grave, and tell the world 'tis the refuge of the unfortunate - the freedom of the prisoner - the comfort of the hopeless and the weary; nor could I lie by affirming, that - of all the delicious functions of our nature, by which God, in his bounty, has been pleased to recompense the sufferings wherewith his justice has wearied us - that this is the chiefest (for I know pleasures worth ten of it); or what a happiness it is to man, when the anxieties of the day are over, and he lies back, with the heavens looking calm and sweet above him - no fear or doubt troubling him.


"God's blessing," said _Sancho Pana_, "be upon the man who first invented this self-same thing called sleep--it covers a man all over like a cloak." Now there is more to me in this, and it speaks warmer to my heart and affections, than all the dissertations squeez'd out of the heads of the learned together upon the subject.

'God's blessing,' said Sancho Panza, 'be upon the man who first invented this thing called sleep - it covers a man like a cloak.' Now this speaks warmer to my heart than all the dissertations squeezed out of the heads of the learned.


--Not that I altogether disapprove of what _Montaigne_ advances upon it--'tis admirable in its way--(I quote by memory).

Not that I altogether disapprove of what Montaigne says - 'tis admirable in its way; (I quote by memory):


The world enjoys other pleasures, says he, as they do that of sleep, without tasting or feeling it as it slips and passes by. --We should study and ruminate upon it, in order to render proper thanks to him who grants it to us. --For this end I cause myself to be disturbed in my sleep, that I may the better and more sensibly relish it. ----And yet I see few, says he again, who live with less sleep, when need requires; my body is capable of a firm, but not of a violent and sudden agitation --I evade of late all violent exercises ----I am never weary with walking----but from my youth, I never liked to ride upon pavements. I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife ----This last word may stagger the faith of the world----but remember, "La Vraisemblance (as _Bayle_ says in the affair of _Liceti_) n'est pas toujours du Ct de la Verit." And so much for sleep.

'The world enjoys other pleasures,' says he, 'as they do that of sleep, without feeling it as it slips by. We should ruminate upon it, in order to give proper thanks to him who grants it to us. I cause myself to be disturbed in my sleep, so that I may the better relish it. And yet I see few,' says he, 'who sleep less than me. I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife. This last may stagger the world - but remember, "La Vraisemblance n'est pas toujours du Ct de la Verit."' And so much for sleep.


----'Twas by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in or no.

-'Twas by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, for turnip-tops and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hind feet on the street, not knowing whether he was to go in or no.


Now, 'tis an animal (be in what hurry I may) I cannot bear to strike----there is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms me; and to that degree, that I do not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I will--whether in town or country--in cart or under panniers--whether in liberty or bondage ----I have ever something civil to say to him on my part; and as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as I) ----I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my imagination so busy as in framing his responses from the etchings of his countenance--and where those carry me not deep enough----in flying from my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think--as well as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is the only creature of all the classes of beings below me, with whom I can do this: for parrots, jackdaws, &c. ----I never exchange a word with them----nor with the apes, &c., for pretty near the same reason; they act by rote, as the others speak by it, and equally make me silent: nay my dog and my cat, though I value them both----(and for my dog he would speak if he could)--yet somehow or other, they neither of them possess the talents for conversation ----I can make nothing of a discourse with them, beyond the _proposition_, the _reply_, and _rejoinder_, which terminated my father's and my mother's conversations, in his beds of justice----and those utter'd----there's an end of the dialogue----

Now, I cannot bear to strike an ass - there is such a patient endurance of sufferings in his looks that it always disarms me; and I do not even like to speak unkindly to him. On the contrary, wherever I meet an ass, I have always something civil to say to him; and as one word begets another, I generally fall into conversation with him: imagining his responses from the expression on his face - or from looking into his heart, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think.
In truth, it is the only creature with whom I can do this: for parrots, jackdaws, &c. - I never exchange a word with them - nor with apes; for they act by rote, as parrots speak by it, and both make me silent. Even my dog and my cat, though I value them both (and my dog would speak if he could) - yet neither of them has the talents for conversation - I can make nothing of a discourse with them, beyond the proposition, the reply, and rejoinder, which ended my father's and mother's conversations in his beds of justice.


--But with an ass, I can commune for ever.

- But with an ass, I can commune for ever.


Come, _Honesty!_ said I, ----seeing it was impracticable to pass betwixt him and the gate----art thou for coming in, or going out?

'Come, Honesty!' said I, seeing it was impossible to get past him - 'art thou coming in, or going out?'


The ass twisted his head round to look up the street----

The ass twisted his head round to look up the street.


Well--replied I--we'll wait a minute for thy driver:

'Well,' replied I, 'we'll wait a minute for thy driver.'


----He turned his head thoughtful about, and looked wistfully the opposite way----

He turned his head and looked wistfully the opposite way.


I understand thee perfectly, answered I ----If thou takest a wrong step in this affair, he will cudgel thee to death ----Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow-creature a drubbing, it shall not be set down as ill spent.

'I understand thee perfectly,' answered I. 'If thou takest a wrong step, he will cudgel thee to death. - Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow-creature a beating, it is not ill spent.'


He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and in the little peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavouriness, had dropt it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and pick'd it up again ----God help thee, _Jack!_ said I, thou hast a bitter breakfast on't--and many a bitter day's labour, --and many a bitter blow, I fear, for its wages----'tis all--all bitterness to thee, whatever life is to others. ----And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot--(for he had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon. ----In saying this, I pull'd out a paper of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one--and at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me, that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing _how_ an ass would eat a macaroon----than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act.

He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this went on, and had dropped it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and picked it up again.
'God help thee, Jack!' said I, 'thou hast a bitter breakfast - and a bitter day's labour, and many a bitter blow, I fear, for wages. - And now thy mouth is as bitter, I dare say, as soot' (for he had cast aside the stem) 'and thou hast not a friend in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon.'
In saying this, I pulled out a bag of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one - and my heart smites me, that I did this more to see how an ass would eat a macaroon than out of kindness.


When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I press'd him to come in--the poor beast was heavy loaded----his legs seem'd to tremble under him----he hung rather backwards, and as I pull'd at his halter, it broke short in my hand----he look'd up pensive in my face-- "Don't thrash me with it--but if you will, you may" ----If I do, said I, I'll be d----d.

When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressed him to come in. The poor beast was heavily loaded - his legs seemed to tremble - and as I pulled at his halter, it broke in my hand. He looked up pensive as if to say, 'Don't thrash me with it.'
'If I do,' said I, 'I'll be d__d.'


The word was but one-half of it pronounced, like the abbess of _Andoillets'_--(so there was no sin in it)--when a person coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado upon the poor devil's crupper, which put an end to the ceremony.

The word was but half pronounced, like the abbess of Andoillets's (so there was no sin in it) - when a person coming in, let fall a thundering blow upon the poor devil's crupper.


cried I----but the interjection was equivocal----and, I think, wrong placed too--for the end of an osier which had started out from the contexture of the ass's pannier, had caught hold of my breeches pocket, as he rush'd by me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine----so that the

cried I - but the interjection was equivocal - for the end of an willow branch in the ass's pannier had caught hold of my breeches pocket as he rushed past me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine - so that the


_Out upon it!_ in my opinion, should have come in here----but this I leave to be settled by

'Out upon it!' in my opinion, should have come here.
But this I leave to be settled by


which I have brought over along with me for that purpose.

which I have brought along with me for that purpose.


----But softly----for in these sportive plains, and under this genial sun, where at this instant all flesh is running out piping, fiddling, and dancing to the vintage, and every step that's taken, the judgment is surprised by the imagination, I defy, notwithstanding all that has been said upon _straight lines_[8.1] in sundry pages of my book --I defy the best cabbage planter that ever existed, whether he plants backwards or forwards, it makes little difference in the account (except that he will have more to answer for in the one case than in the other) --I defy him to go on coolly, critically, and canonically, planting his cabbages one by one, in straight lines, and stoical distances, especially if slits in petticoats are unsew'd up--without ever and anon straddling out, or sidling into some bastardly digression ----In _Freeze-land_, _Fog-land_, and some other lands I wot of--it may be done----

- But softly - on these sportive plains, and under this genial sun, where all flesh is running out piping, fiddling, and dancing, I defy - despite all that I have earlier said upon straight lines - I defy the best cabbage planter in existence to go on coolly and critically planting his cabbages in straight lines, without straddling out, or sidling into some bastardly digression.
- In Freeze-land, or Fog-land, it may be done-


But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea, sensible and insensible, gets vent--in this land, my dear _Eugenius_--in this fertile land of chivalry and romance, where I now sit, unskrewing my ink-horn to write my uncle _Toby's_ amours, and with all the meanders of JULIA'S track in quest of her DIEGO, in full view of my study window--if thou comest not and takest me by the hand----

But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea gets vent - in this fertile land of chivalry and romance, where I now sit, unscrewing my ink-horn to write my uncle Toby's amours, with all the meanders of Julia's track in quest of her Diego in full view of my study window - if thou comest not and takest me by the hand-


[Footnote 8.1: Vid. pp. 347-348.] [[Book VI, Chapter XL]]


I beg the reader will assist me here, to wheel off my uncle _Toby's_ ordnance behind the scenes, ----to remove his sentry-box, and clear the theatre, _if possible_, of horn-works and half moons, and get the rest of his military apparatus out of the way; ----that done, my dear friend _Garrick_, we'll snuff the candles bright, --sweep the stage with a new broom, --draw up the curtain, and exhibit my uncle _Toby_ dressed in a new character, throughout which the world can have no idea how he will act: and yet, if pity be a-kin to love, --and bravery no alien to it, you have seen enough of my uncle _Toby_ in these, to trace these family likenesses betwixt the two passions (in case there is one) to your heart's content.

I beg the reader will assist me here, to wheel off my uncle Toby's ordnance behind the scenes, - to remove his sentry-box, and clear his military apparatus out of the way; that done, my dear friend Garrick, we'll sweep the stage, draw up the curtain, and exhibit my uncle Toby dressed in a new character, in which the world can have no idea how he will act. And yet, if pity be akin to love, and bravery likewise, you have seen enough of my uncle Toby to trace these family likenesses betwixt the passions.


Vain science! thou assistest us in no case of this kind--and thou puzzlest us in every one.


There was, Madam, in my uncle _Toby_, a singleness of heart which misled him so far out of the little serpentine tracks in which things of this nature usually go on; you can--you can have no conception of it: with this, there was a plainness and simplicity of thinking, with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the plies and foldings of the heart of woman; ----and so naked and defenceless did he stand before you (when a siege was out of his head), that you might have stood behind any one of your serpentine walks, and shot my uncle _Toby_ ten times in a day, through his liver, if nine times in a day, Madam, had not served your purpose.

There was, Madam, in my uncle Toby, a singleness of heart which misled him so far out of the little serpentine tracks in which things of this nature usually go on, you can have no conception of it. There was a plainness and simplicity of thinking, with such a trusting ignorance of the foldings of the heart of woman; - and so naked and defenceless did he stand before you (when a siege was out of his head), that you might have shot my uncle, Madam, ten times in a day.


With all this, Madam, --and what confounded everything as much on the other hand, my uncle _Toby_ had that unparalleled modesty of nature I once told you of, and which, by the bye, stood eternal sentry upon his feelings, that you might as soon ----But where am I going? these reflections crowd in upon me ten pages at least too soon, and take up that time, which I ought to bestow upon facts.

With all this, my uncle Toby had that unparalleled modesty of nature I once told you of, which stood eternal sentry upon his feelings, so that you might as well-
But where am I going? these reflections crowd in upon me ten pages at least too soon, and take up time which I ought to give to facts.


----'Twas nothing, --I did not lose two drops of blood by it---- ----'twas not worth calling in a surgeon, had he lived next door to us----thousands suffer by choice, what I did by accident. ----Doctor _Slop_ made ten times more of it, than there was occasion: ----some men rise, by the art of hanging great weights upon small wires, --and I am this day (_August_ the 10th, 1761) paying part of the price of this man's reputation. ----O 'twould provoke a stone, to see how things are carried on in this world! ----The chamber-maid had left no ******* *** under the bed: ----Cannot you contrive, master, quoth _Susannah_, lifting up the sash with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window-seat with the other, --cannot you manage, my dear, for a single time, to **** *** ** *** ******?

-'Twas nothing, - I did not lose two drops of blood - 'twas not worth calling in a surgeon. - Thousands suffer by choice, what I did by accident. Doctor Slop made ten times more of it than he needed: and I am this day (August the 10th, 1761) paying the price of this man's reputation. - O, 'twould provoke a stone, to see how things go on in this world!
The chamber-maid had left no chamber pot under the bed:
'Cannot you contrive, master,' quoth Susannah, lifting up the sash window with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window-seat with the other, 'cannot you manage, my dear, just once, to **** *** ** *** ******?'


I was five years old. ----_Susannah_ did not consider that nothing was well hung in our family, ----so slap came the sash down like lightning upon us; --Nothing is left, --cried _Susannah_, --nothing is left--for me, but to run my country.----

I was five years old. Susannah did not consider that nothing was well hung in our family, - so slap came the sash window down like lightning upon me.
- 'Nothing is left for me,' cried Susannah, 'but to flee the country.'


My uncle _Toby's_ house was a much kinder sanctuary; and so _Susannah_ fled to it.

My uncle Toby's house was a much kinder sanctuary; and so Susannah fled to it.


"What prodigious armies you had in _Flanders!_" ----Brother _Toby_, quoth my father, I do believe thee to be as honest a man, and with as good and as upright a heart as ever God created; --nor is it thy fault, if all the children which have been, may, can, shall, will, or ought to be begotten, come with their heads foremost into the world: ----but believe me, dear _Toby_, the accidents which unavoidably waylay them, not only in the article of our begetting 'em----though these, in my opinion, are well worth considering, ----but the dangers and difficulties our children are beset with, after they are got forth into the world, are enow--little need is there to expose them to unnecessary ones in their passage to it. ----Are these dangers, quoth my uncle _Toby_, laying his hand upon my father's knee, and looking up seriously in his face for an answer, ----are these dangers greater now o' days, brother, than in times past? Brother _Toby_, answered my father, if a child was but fairly begot, and born alive, and healthy, and the mother did well after it, --our forefathers never looked farther. ----My uncle _Toby_ instantly withdrew his hand from off my father's knee, reclined his body gently back in his chair, raised his head till he could just see the cornice of the room, and then directing the buccinatory muscles along his cheeks, and the orbicular muscles around his lips to do their duty--he whistled _Lillabullero_.

'What prodigious armies you had in Flanders! - Brother Toby,' quoth my father, 'I do believe thee to be an honest, upright man; nor is it thy fault, if children come with their heads foremost into the world: - but believe me, dear Toby, the dangers our children meet, after they enter the world, are enough - there is no need to expose them to unnecessary dangers in their passage to it.'
'Are these dangers greater nowadays,' asked my uncle seriously, - 'than in times past?'
'Brother Toby,' answered my father, 'if a child was fairly begot, and born healthy, and the mother did well, our forefathers never looked further.'
My uncle Toby reclined gently back in his chair, and then directing the buccinatory muscles along his cheeks, and the orbicular muscles around his lips to do their duty - he whistled Lillabullero.


My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself, ----there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-will'd, the moment he hears them utter'd, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess in the utmost horror --No; replied _Margarita_ calmly--but they are words sinful --What are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered _Margarita_, --they are mortal--and if we are ravish'd and die unabsolved of them, we shall both----but you may pronounce them to me, quoth the abbess of _Andoillets_ ----They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in one's body fly up into one's face --But you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess.

'My dear mother,' quoth the novice, recovering a little - 'there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse or mule to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate, the moment he hears them, he obeys.'
'They are magic words!' cried the abbess in horror.
'No,' replied Margarita calmly, 'but they are sinful in the first degree - a mortal sin - and if we are ravished and die unabsolved, we shall-'
'But you may tell them to me,' interrupted the abbess.
'They cannot, my dear mother, be spoken at all; they will make one's blood fly up into one's face.'
'But you may whisper them in my ear,' quoth the abbess.


Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemployed----no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to rouse the muleteer from his banquet? ----no sweet minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the abbess and _Margarita_, with their black rosaries!

Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to send to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no friendly spirit who could rouse the muleteer from his banquet?


Rouse! rouse! ----but 'tis too late--the horrid words are pronounced this moment----

Rouse him! - but 'tis too late - the horrid words are spoken-


----and how to tell them --Ye, who can speak of everything existing, with unpolluted lips, instruct me----guide me----

- and how to tell them with unpolluted lips - Lord, guide me-


If my wife will but venture him--brother _Toby_, _Trismegistus_ shall be dress'd and brought down to us, whilst you and I are getting our breakfasts together.------

'If my wife will allow it, brother Toby, Trismegistus shall be dressed and brought down to us, whilst we are getting our breakfasts.


----Go, tell _Susannah_, _Obadiah_, to step here.


She is run upstairs, answered _Obadiah_, this very instant, sobbing and crying, and wringing her hands as if her heart would break.

'She is run upstairs,' answered Obadiah, 'sobbing and crying as if her heart would break.'


We shall have a rare month of it, said my father, turning his head from _Obadiah_, and looking wistfully in my uncle _Toby's_ face for some time--we shall have a devilish month of it, brother _Toby_, said my father, setting his arms a-kimbo, and shaking his head; fire, water, women, wind--brother _Toby!_--'Tis some misfortune, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----That it is, cried my father--to have so many jarring elements breaking loose, and riding triumph in every corner of a gentleman's house --Little boots it to the peace of a family, brother _Toby_, that you and I possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved----whilst such a storm is whistling over our heads.------

'We shall have a rare month of it,' said my father wistfully, shaking his head: 'We shall have a devilish month, brother Toby; fire, water, women, wind!'
''Tis some misfortune,' quoth my uncle Toby.
'That it is,' cried my father, 'to have so many jarring elements breaking loose in every corner of a gentleman's house. Whilst you and I, brother Toby, possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved, a storm is whistling over our heads.


And what's the matter, _Susannah?_ They have called the child _Tristram_----and my mistress is just got out of an hysterick fit about it ----No----'tis not my fault, said _Susannah_ --I told him it was _Tristram-gistus_.

- And what's the matter, Susannah?'
'They have called the child Tristram - and my mistress is just got out of an hysteric fit about it - 'tis not my fault,' said Susannah. 'I told him it was Tristram-gistus.'


----Make tea for yourself, brother _Toby_, said my father, taking down his hat----but how different from the sallies and agitations of voice and members which a common reader would imagine!

'Make tea for yourself, brother Toby,' said my father - but in a manner how different from agitation than a common reader would imagine!


--For he spake in the sweetest modulation--and took down his hat with the genteelest movement of limbs, that ever affliction harmonized and attuned together.

For he spake sweetly, and took down his hat with the genteelest movement.


----Go to the bowling-green for corporal _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, speaking to _Obadiah_, as soon as my father left the room.

'Go to the bowling-green for corporal Trim,' said my uncle Toby to Obadiah, as soon as my father left the room.


--And pray, said my uncle _Toby_, leaning upon _Yorick_, as he and my father were helping him leisurely down the stairs----don't be terrified, madam, this stair-case conversation is not so long as the last ----And pray, _Yorick_, said my uncle _Toby_, which way is this said affair of _Tristram_ at length settled by these learned men? Very satisfactorily, replied _Yorick_; no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it----for Mrs. _Shandy_ the mother is nothing at all a-kin to him----and as the mother's is the surest side ----Mr. _Shandy_, in course, is still less than nothing ------In short, he is not as much a-kin to him, Sir, as I am.----

'And pray,' said my uncle Toby, leaning upon Yorick, as he and my father were helping him down the stairs - don't be terrified, madam, this staircase conversation is not so long as the last - 'And pray, Yorick,' said my uncle, 'which way is this affair of Tristram at length settled by these learned men?'
'Very satisfactorily,' replied Yorick; 'no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it - for Mrs. Shandy the mother is nothing at all a-kin to him - and as the mother's is the surest side, Mr. Shandy is even less than nothing.'


----That may well be, said my father, shaking his head.

'That may well be,' said my father, shaking his head.


----Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly, quoth my uncle _Toby_, have been some sort of consanguinity betwixt the duchess of _Suffolk_ and her son.

'Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'have been some shared blood betwixt the duchess of Suffolk and her son.'


The vulgar are of the same opinion, quoth _Yorick_, to this hour.

'The vulgar are of the same opinion,' quoth Yorick, 'to this hour.'


We shall bring all things to rights, said my father, setting his foot upon the first step from the landing. --This _Trismegistus_, continued my father, drawing his leg back and turning to my uncle _Toby_----was the greatest (_Toby_) of all earthly beings--he was the greatest king----the greatest law-giver----the greatest philosopher----and the greatest priest----and engineer--said my uncle _Toby_.

'We shall bring all things to rights,' said my father, setting his foot upon the first step from the landing.
'This Trismegistus,' he continued, drawing his leg back and turning to my uncle Toby, 'was the greatest king - the greatest law-giver - philosopher - and the greatest priest-'
'- and engineer.' said my uncle Toby.


We should begin, said my father, turning himself half round in bed, and shifting his pillow a little towards my mother's, as he opened the debate ----We should begin to think, Mrs. _Shandy_, of putting this boy into breeches.----

'We should begin,' said my father, turning round in bed, and shifting his pillow towards my mother's, 'We should begin to think, Mrs. Shandy, of putting this boy into breeches.'


We should so, --said my mother. ----We defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.------

'We should so,' said my mother.
'We defer it, my dear, shamefully.'


I think we do, Mr. _Shandy_, --said my mother.

'I think we do, Mr. Shandy,' said my mother.


----Not but the child looks extremely well, said my father, in his vests and tunicks.------

'Although the child looks extremely good in his tunics,' said my father.


------He does look very well in them, --replied my mother.------

'He does look very good in them,' replied my mother.


----And for that reason it would be almost a sin, added my father, to take him out of 'em.----

'So that it would be almost a sin,' added my father, 'to take him out of 'em.'


----It would so, --said my mother: ----But indeed he is growing a very tall lad, --rejoined my father.

'It would,' said my mother.
'But indeed he is growing very tall,' rejoined my father.


----He is very tall for his age, indeed, --said my mother.----

'He is very tall for his age, indeed,' said my mother.


----I can not (making two syllables of it) imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce he takes after.----

'I can not imagine,' quoth my father, 'who the deuce he takes after.'


I cannot conceive, for my life, --said my mother.----

'I cannot conceive, for my life,' said my mother.


----I am very short myself, --continued my father gravely.

'I am very short myself,' continued my father gravely.


You are very short, Mr. _Shandy_, --said my mother.

'You are very short, Mr. Shandy,' said my mother.


Humph! quoth my father to himself, a second time: in muttering which, he plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's--and turning about again, there was an end of the debate for three minutes and a half.

'Humph!' quoth my father to himself again: and plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's. There was a pause for three minutes and a half.


----When he gets these breeches made, cried my father in a higher tone, he'll look like a beast in 'em.

'When he gets these breeches,' cried my father in a higher tone, 'he'll look like a beast in 'em.'


He will be very awkward in them at first, replied my mother.----

'He will be very awkward in them at first,' replied my mother.


----And 'twill be lucky, if that's the worst on't, added my father.

'And 'twill be lucky if that's the worst of it,' added my father.


It will be very lucky, answered my mother.

'It will be very lucky,' answered my mother.


I suppose, replied my father, --making some pause first, --he'll be exactly like other people's children.----

'I suppose,' replied my father, 'he'll be exactly like other people's children.'


----Though I shall be sorry for that, added my father: and so the debate stopp'd again.

'Though I shall be sorry for that,' added my father: and the debate stopped again.


----They should be of leather, said my father, turning him about again.--

'They should be of leather,' said my father, turning around.


They will last him, said my mother, the longest.

'They will last him longer,' said my mother.


But he can have no linings to 'em, replied my father.------

'But he can have no linings to 'em,' replied my father.


'Twere better to have them of fustian, quoth my father.

''Twere better to have them of fustian,' quoth my father.


Nothing can be better, quoth my mother.------

'Nothing can be better,' quoth my mother.


--Except dimity, --replied my father: ----'Tis best of all, --replied my mother.

'Except dimity,' replied my father.
''Tis best of all,' replied my mother.


----One must not give him his death, however, --interrupted my father.

'One must not give him his death, however,' said my father.


By no means, said my mother: ----and so the dialogue stood still again.

'By no means,' said my mother: and the dialogue stood still again.


I am resolved, however, quoth my father, breaking silence the fourth time, he shall have no pockets in them.--

'I am resolved, however,' quoth my father, breaking silence, 'he shall have no pockets in them.'


----There is no occasion for any, said my mother.------

'There is no need for any,' said my mother.


I mean in his coat and waistcoat, --cried my father.

'I mean in his coat and waistcoat,' cried my father.


----Though if he gets a gig or top ----Poor souls! it is a crown and a sceptre to them, --they should have where to secure it.------

'Though if he gets a toy or top - they are like a crown and a sceptre to children - they should have somewhere to keep it.'


Order it as you please, Mr. _Shandy_, replied my mother.------

'Order it as you please, Mr. Shandy,' replied my mother.


----But don't you think it right? added my father, pressing the point home to her.

'But don't you think it right?' pressed my father.


Perfectly, said my mother, if it pleases you, Mr. _Shandy_.------

'Perfectly,' said my mother, 'if it pleases you, Mr. Shandy.'


----There's for you! cried my father, losing temper ----Pleases me! ----You never will distinguish, Mrs. _Shandy_, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience. ----This was on the _Sunday_ night: ----and further this chapter sayeth not.

'There's for you!' cried my father, losing his temper. 'Pleases me! You never will distinguish, Mrs. Shandy, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience.'
This was on the Sunday night: and further this chapter sayeth not.


If it had not been for those two mettlesome tits, and that madcap of a postillion who drove them from Stilton to Stamford, the thought had never entered my head. He flew like lightning----there was a slope of three miles and a half----we scarce touched the ground----the motion was most rapid----most impetuous------'twas communicated to my brain--my heart partook of it---- "By the great God of day," said I, looking towards the sun, and thrusting my arm out of the fore-window of the chaise, as I made my vow, "I will lock up my study-door the moment I get home, and throw the key of it ninety feet below the surface of the earth, into the draw-well at the back of my house."

If it had not been for those two mettlesome horses, and that madcap of a postillion who drove them from Stilton to Stamford, the thought would have never entered my head. He flew like lightning - we scarce touched the ground - the impetuous motion was communicated to my brain - and my heart.
'By the great God of day,' said I, looking towards the sun, and thrusting my arm out of the carriage window, 'I will lock up my study-door the moment I get home, and throw its key down the well.'


The London waggon confirmed me in my resolution; it hung tottering upon the hill, scarce progressive, drag'd--drag'd up by eight _heavy beasts_-- "by main strength! ----quoth I, nodding----but your betters draw the same way----and something of everybody's! ----O rare!"

The London waggon confirmed me in my resolution; it hung tottering upon the hill, scarce progressing, dragged up by eight heavy beasts - 'by main strength!' quoth I, nodding - 'but your betters drag the same way!'


Tell me, ye learned, shall we for ever be adding so much to the _bulk_--so little to the _stock?_

Tell me, shall we for ever be adding so much to the bulk - and so little to the stock of learning?


Shall we for ever make new books, as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring only out of one vessel into another?

Shall we for ever make new books, as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring out of one vessel into another?


Are we for ever to be twisting, and untwisting the same rope? for ever in the same track--for ever at the same pace?


Shall we be destined to the days of eternity, on holy-days, as well as working-days, to be shewing the _relicks of learning_, as monks do the relicks of their saints--without working one--one single miracle with them?

Shall we be eternally showing the relics of learning, as monks do the relics of their saints - without working one single miracle with them?


Who made Man, with powers which dart him from earth to heaven in a moment--that great, that most excellent, and most noble creature of the world--the _miracle_ of nature, as Zoroaster in his book called him--the SHEKINAH of the divine presence, as Chrysostom----the _image_ of God, as Moses----the _ray_ of divinity, as Plato--the _marvel_ of _marvels_, as Aristotle--to go sneaking on at this pitiful--pimping--pettifogging rate?

Who made Man - that most excellent and noble creature of the world - the miracle of nature, as Zoroaster called him - the image of God, as said Moses - the ray of divinity, as said Plato - the marvel of marvels, as said Aristotle - to go sneaking on at this pitiful, pettifogging rate?


I scorn to be as abusive as Horace upon the occasion------but if there is no catachresis in the wish, and no sin in it, I wish from my soul, that every imitator in _Great Britain_, _France_, and _Ireland_, had the farcy for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold--aye--and sublimate them, _shag rag and bob-tail_, male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of _Whiskers_----but, by what chain of ideas --I leave as a legacy in _mort-main_ to Prudes and Tartufs, to enjoy and make the most of.

I wish that every imitator caught the farcy, or glanders, for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold 'em, shag rag and bob-tail, male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of Whiskers.


I'm sorry I made it----'twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man's head ----A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it--'tis a delicate world----but I knew not of what mettle it was made--nor had I ever seen the underwritten fragment; otherwise, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers still (let the world say what it will to the contrary); so surely would I have steered clear of this dangerous chapter.

I'm sorry I made it - 'twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man's head.
A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it - 'tis a delicate world - and if I had seen the fragment below, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers, I would have steered clear of this dangerous chapter.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ------You are half asleep, my good lady, said the old gentleman, taking hold of the old lady's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, as he pronounced the word _Whiskers_----shall we change the subject? By no means, replied the old lady --I like your account of those matters; so throwing a thin gauze handkerchief over her head, and leaning it back upon the chair with her face turned towards him, and advancing her two feet as she reclined herself ----I desire, continued she, you will go on.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - 'You are half asleep, my good lady,' said the old gentleman. Taking the old lady's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, he pronounced the word, 'Whiskers. - shall we change the subject?'
'By no means,' replied the old lady. 'I like your account of those matters.' Throwing a gauze handkerchief over her head, and leaning back in the chair, she continued, 'Please go on.'


The old gentleman went on as follows: ------Whiskers! cried the queen of _Navarre_, dropping her knotting ball, as _La Fosseuse_ uttered the word ----Whiskers, madam, said _La Fosseuse_, pinning the ball to the queen's apron, and making a courtesy as she repeated it.

The old gentleman went on as follows:
'Whiskers!' cried the queen of Navarre, dropping her knotting ball, as La Fosseuse uttered the word.
'Whiskers, madam,' said La Fosseuse, making a curtsey.


_La Fosseuse's_ voice was naturally soft and low, yet 'twas an articulate voice: and every letter of the word _Whiskers_ fell distinctly upon the queen of _Navarre's_ ear --Whiskers! cried the queen, laying a greater stress upon the word, and as if she had still distrusted her ears ----Whiskers! replied _La Fosseuse_, repeating the word a third time ----There is not a cavalier, madam, of his age in _Navarre_, continued the maid of honour, pressing the page's interest upon the queen, that has so gallant a pair ----Of what? cried _Margaret_, smiling --Of whiskers, said _La Fosseuse_, with infinite modesty.

The maid of honour's voice was soft and low, yet every letter of the word Whiskers fell distinctly upon the queen's ear.
'Whiskers!' cried Queen Margaret again.
'Whiskers!' replied La Fosseuse. 'There is not a cavalier, madam, in Navarre, that has so gallant a pair-'
'Of what?' cried the queen, smiling.
'Of whiskers,' said La Fosseuse, with infinite modesty.


The word _Whiskers_ still stood its ground, and continued to be made use of in most of the best companies throughout the little kingdom of _Navarre_, notwithstanding the indiscreet use which _La Fosseuse_ had made of it: the truth was, _La Fosseuse_ had pronounced the word, not only before the queen, but upon sundry other occasions at court, with an accent which always implied something of a mystery --And as the court of _Margaret_, as all the world knows, was at that time a mixture of gallantry and devotion----and whiskers being as applicable to the one, as the other, the word naturally stood its ground----it gain'd full as much as it lost; that is, the clergy were for it----the laity were against it----and for the women, ----_they_ were divided.

The word Whiskers was used in the best company throughout the little kingdom of Navarre, notwithstanding La Fosseuse's indiscreet use of it: the truth was, she had said the word, not only before the queen, but on other occasions at court, with an accent which always implied a mystery.
And as the court of Margaret was a mixture of gallantry and devotion, the word stood its ground. The clergy were for it - the laity were against it - and as for the women, they were divided.


The excellency of the figure and mien of the young Sieur _De Croix_, was at that time beginning to draw the attention of the maids of honour towards the terrace before the palace gate, where the guard was mounted. The lady _De Baussiere_ fell deeply in love with him, ----_La Battarelle_ did the same--it was the finest weather for it, that ever was remembered in _Navarre_----_La Guyol_, _La Maronette_, _La Sabatiere_, fell in love with the Sieur _De Croix_ also----_La Rebours_ and _La Fosseuse_ knew better----_De Croix_ had failed in an attempt to recommend himself to _La Rebours_; and _La Rebours_ and _La Fosseuse_ were inseparable.

The excellent figure and bearing of the young Seignior De Croix was at that time beginning to draw the attention of the maids of honour. The lady De Baussiere fell deeply in love with him; La Battarelle did the same. La Guyol, La Maronette and La Sabatiere fell in love with him also - La Rebours and La Fosseuse knew better.


The queen of _Navarre_ was sitting with her ladies in the painted bow-window, facing the gate of the second court, as _De Croix_ passed through it --He is handsome, said the Lady _Baussiere_. ----He has a good mien, said _La Battarelle_ ----He is finely shaped, said _La Guyol_ --I never saw an officer of the horse-guards in my life, said _La Maronette_, with two such legs ----Or who stood so well upon them, said _La Sabatiere_ ------But he has no whiskers, cried _La Fosseuse_ ----Not a pile, said _La Rebours_.

The queen of Navarre was sitting with her ladies in the bow-window, facing the gate, as De Croix passed through it.
'He is handsome,' said the Lady Baussiere. 'He is finely shaped,' said La Guyol.' 'I never saw an officer with two such legs,' said La Maronette.
-'But he has no whiskers,' cried La Fosseuse.


The queen went directly to her oratory, musing all the way, as she walked through the gallery, upon the subject; turning it this way and that way in her fancy--_Ave Maria!_------what can _La Fosseuse_ mean? said she, kneeling down upon the cushion.

The queen went to her oratory, musing upon the subject; 'Ave Maria! - what can La Fosseuse mean?' said she, kneeling to pray.


_La Guyol_, _La Battarelle_, _La Maronette_, _La Sabatiere_, retired instantly to their chambers ------Whiskers! said all four of them to themselves, as they bolted their doors on the inside.

La Guyol, La Battarelle, La Maronette and La Sabatiere retired instantly to their chambers. 'Whiskers!' said all four to themselves.


The Lady _Carnavallette_ was counting her beads with both hands, unsuspected, under her farthingal----from St. _Antony_ down to St. _Ursula_ inclusive, not a saint passed through her fingers without whiskers; St. _Francis_, St. _Dominick_, St. _Bennet_, St. _Basil_, St. _Bridget_, had all whiskers.

The Lady Carnavallette was telling her rosary: from St. Antony down to St. Ursula, not a saint passed through her fingers without whiskers.


The Lady _Baussiere_ had got into a wilderness of conceits, with moralizing too intricately upon _La Fosseuse's_ text ----She mounted her palfrey, her page followed her----the host passed by--the Lady _Baussiere_ rode on.

The Lady Baussiere had got into a wilderness of speculations upon La Fosseuse's words. She mounted her palfrey, her page following, and rode on.


One denier, cried the order of mercy--one single denier, in behalf of a thousand patient captives, whose eyes look towards heaven and you for their redemption.

'One penny,' cried a suppliant of the Order of Mercy, 'one single penny, on behalf of a thousand patient captives.'


Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly holding up a box, begirt with iron, in his withered hands ----I beg for the unfortunate--good my Lady, 'tis for a prison--for an hospital--'tis for an old man--a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretyship, by fire ----I call God and all his angels to witness----'tis to clothe the naked----to feed the hungry----'tis to comfort the sick and the broken-hearted.

'Pity the unfortunate,' said a devout old man meekly holding up a box in his withered hands. ''tis for a prison - for an hospital - 'tis for an old man - a poor man undone by shipwreck, by fire - 'tis to feed the hungry - to comfort the sick.'


A decayed kinsman bowed himself to the ground.


He ran begging bare-headed on one side of her palfrey, conjuring her by the former bonds of friendship, alliance, consanguinity, etc. ----Cousin, aunt, sister, mother, ----for virtue's sake, for your own, for mine, for Christ's sake, remember me----pity me.

He ran alongside her palfrey, begging: 'Cousin, aunt, sister, mother, for Christ's sake, remember me - pity me.'


Take hold of my whiskers, said the Lady _Baussiere_ ----The page took hold of her palfrey. She dismounted at the end of the terrace.

'Take hold of my whiskers,' said the Lady Baussiere. The page took hold of her palfrey, and she dismounted.


There are some trains of certain ideas which leave prints of themselves about our eyes and eye-brows; and there is a consciousness of it, somewhere about the heart, which serves but to make these etchings the stronger--we see, spell, and put them together without a dictionary.

There are certain ideas which leave prints of themselves about our eyes; and a consciousness somewhere about the heart makes these etchings all the stronger - we spell them out without a dictionary.


Ha, ha! he, hee! cried _La Guyol_ and _La Sabatiere_, looking close at each other's prints ----Ho, ho! cried _La Battarelle_ and _Maronette_, doing the same: --Whist! cried one--st, st, --said a second--hush, quoth a third--poo, poo, replied a fourth--gramercy! cried the Lady _Carnavallette_; ----'twas she who bewhisker'd St. _Bridget_.

'Ha, ha! he, hee!' cried La Guyol and La Sabatiere, looking at each other's eyes.
'Ho, ho!' cried La Battarelle and Maronette, doing the same.


_La Fosseuse_ drew her bodkin from the knot of her hair, and having traced the outline of a small whisker, with the blunt end of it, upon one side of her upper lip, put it into _La Rebours'_ hand--_La Rebours_ shook her head.

La Fosseuse drew her hairpin from her hair, and traced the outline of a small whisker with the blunt end of it upon her upper lip.


The Lady _Baussiere_ coughed thrice into the inside of her muff--_La Guyol_ smiled --Fy, said the Lady _Baussiere_. The queen of _Navarre_ touched her eye with the tip of her fore-finger--as much as to say, I understand you all.

The Lady Baussiere coughed thrice. - La Guyol smiled.
'Fie,' said the Lady Baussiere. The queen of Navarre touched her eye with the tip of her finger - as if to say, I understand you all.


'Twas plain to the whole court the word was ruined: _La Fosseuse_ had given it a wound, and it was not the better for passing through all these defiles ----It made a faint stand, however, for a few months, by the expiration of which, the Sieur _De Croix_, finding it high time to leave _Navarre_ for want of whiskers----the word in course became indecent, and (after a few efforts) absolutely unfit for use.

'Twas plain to the whole court that the word was ruined. It made a faint stand, however, for a few months, by the end of which, the Seignior De Croix found it high time to leave Navarre for want of whiskers; and the word became indecent, and absolutely unfit for use.


The best word, in the best language of the best world, must have suffered under such combinations. ------The curate of _d'Estella_ wrote a book against them, setting forth the dangers of accessory ideas, and warning the _Navarois_ against them.

The best word in the world must have suffered under such conditions. The curate of d'Estella wrote a book on this, setting forth the dangers of accessory ideas.


Does not all the world know, said the curate _d'Estella_ at the conclusion of his work, that Noses ran the same fate some centuries ago in most parts of _Europe_, which Whiskers have now done in the kingdom of _Navarre?_ --The evil indeed spread no farther then--but have not beds and bolsters, and nightcaps and chamber-pots stood upon the brink of destruction ever since? Are not trouse, and placket-holes, and pump-handles--and spigots and faucets, in danger still from the same association? ----Chastity, by nature, the gentlest of all affections--give it but its head----'tis like a ramping and a roaring lion.

'Does not all the world know,' said the curate, 'that Noses suffered the same fate centuries ago, which Whiskers have now done? Have not beds, bolsters, nightcaps and chamber-pots stood upon the brink of destruction ever since? Are not trousers and placket-holes and pump-handles in danger still from the same association? Chastity is the gentlest of all affections - but if you give it its head, 'tis like a ramping lion.'


The drift of the curate _d'Estella's_ argument was not understood. --They ran the scent the wrong way. --The world bridled his ass at the tail. --And when the _extremes_ of DELICACY, and the _beginnings_ of CONCUPISCENCE, hold their next provincial chapter together, they may decree that bawdy also.

The drift of the curate's argument was not understood. The world went the wrong way, and bridled his ass at the tail.
And when Delicacy and Lust next meet together, they may decree that bawdy also.


When I reflect, brother _Toby_, upon MAN; and take a view of that dark side of him which represents his life as open to so many causes of trouble--when I consider, brother _Toby_, how oft we eat the bread of affliction, and that we are born to it, as to the portion of our inheritance ------I was born to nothing, quoth my uncle _Toby_, interrupting my father--but my commission. Zooks! said my father, did not my uncle leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year? ------What could I have done without it? replied my uncle _Toby_ ------That's another concern, said my father testily --But I say, _Toby_, when one runs over the catalogue of all the cross-reckonings and sorrowful _Items_ with which the heart of man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful by what hidden resources the mind is enabled to stand out, and bear itself up, as it does, against the impositions laid upon our nature. ------'Tis by the assistance of Almighty God, cried my uncle _Toby_, looking up, and pressing the palms of his hands close together----'tis not from our own strength, brother _Shandy_----a centinel in a wooden centry-box might as well pretend to stand it out against a detachment of fifty men. ----We are upheld by the grace and the assistance of the best of Beings.

'When I reflect, brother Toby, upon Man, and the many troubles he is open to - when I consider how oft we eat the bread of affliction, and that we are born to it, as to our inheritance-'
'I was born to nothing,' quoth my uncle, interrupting, 'but my commission.'
'Zooks!' said my father; 'did not my uncle leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year?'
'What could I have done without it?' replied my uncle Toby.
'That's another matter,' said my father testily. 'But I say, Toby, when one runs over the catalogue of all the sorrows with which the heart of man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful how the mind can bear itself up, as it does.'
''Tis by the assistance of Almighty God,' cried my uncle Toby. ''Tis not from our own strength, brother Shandy - a sentinel might as well pretend to stand against fifty men. We are upheld by the grace of the best of Beings.'


----That is cutting the knot, said my father, instead of untying it. ----But give me leave to lead you, brother _Toby_, a little deeper into the mystery.

'That is cutting the knot,' said my father, 'instead of untying it. But allow me to lead you, brother, a little deeper into the mystery.'


With all my heart, replied my uncle _Toby_.