As _Susannah_ was informed by an express from Mrs. _Bridget_, of my uncle _Toby's_ falling in love with her mistress fifteen days before it happened, --the contents of which express, _Susannah_ communicated to my mother the next day, --it has just given me an opportunity of entering upon my uncle _Toby's_ amours a fortnight before their existence.
I have an article of news to tell you, Mr. _Shandy_, quoth my mother, which will surprise you greatly.----
Now my father was then holding one of his second beds of justice, and was musing within himself about the hardships of matrimony, as my mother broke silence.------
"----My brother _Toby_, quoth she, is going to be married to Mrs. _Wadman_."
----Then he will never, quoth my father, be able to lie _diagonally_ in his bed again as long as he lives.
It was a consuming vexation to my father, that my mother never asked the meaning of a thing she did not understand.
----That she is not a woman of science, my father would say--is her misfortune--but she might ask a question.--
My mother never did. ----In short, she went out of the world at last without knowing whether it turned _round_, or stood _still_. ----My father had officiously told her above a thousand times which way it was, --but she always forgot.
For these reasons, a discourse seldom went on much further betwixt them, than a proposition, --a reply, and a rejoinder; at the end of which, it generally took breath for a few minutes (as in the affair of the breeches), and then went on again.
If he marries, 'twill be the worse for us, --quoth my mother.
Not a cherry-stone, said my father, --he may as well batter away his means upon that, as any thing else.
----To be sure, said my mother: so here ended the proposition, --the reply, --and the rejoinder, I told you of.
It will be some amusement to him, too, ----said my father.
A very great one, answered my mother, if he should have children.----
----Lord have mercy upon me, --said my father to himself---- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As Susannah was informed by Mrs. Bridget of my uncle Toby's falling in love with her mistress fifteen days before it happened - which Susannah then told my mother the next day - it has given me an opportunity of entering upon my uncle Toby's amours a fortnight before their existence.
'I have some news to tell you, Mr. Shandy,' quoth my mother, 'which will surprise you greatly.'
Now my father was then holding one of his second beds of justice, and was musing about the hardships of matrimony, as my mother spoke.
'Our brother Toby is going to be married to Mrs. Wadman.'
'Then he will never again,' quoth my father, 'be able to lie diagonally in his bed as long as he lives.'
It was a consuming vexation to my father, that my mother never asked the meaning of a thing she did not understand.
'She is not a woman of science,' my father would say - 'but she might ask a question.'
My mother never did. She went out of the world at last without knowing whether it turned round, or stood still. My father had officiously told her a thousand times which way it was, but she always forgot.
For these reasons, a discourse between them seldom went on much further than a proposition, a reply, and a rejoinder; after which, it generally took breath for a few minutes (as in the affair of the breeches), and then went on again.
'If he marries, 'twill be the worse for us,' quoth my mother.
'Not much,' said my father; 'he may as well batter away his means upon that, as any thing else.'
'To be sure,' said my mother: so here ended the proposition, the reply and the rejoinder.
'It will be some amusement to him, too,' said my father.
'A very great one,' answered my mother, 'if he should have children.'
'Lord have mercy upon me,' said my father to himself. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.


What a rate have I gone on at, curvetting and frisking it away, two up and two down for four volumes[4.8] together, without looking once behind, or even on one side of me, to see whom I trod upon! --I'll tread upon no one----quoth I to myself when I mounted ------I'll take a good rattling gallop; but I'll not hurt the poorest jackass upon the road. ----So off I set----up one lane------down another, through this turnpike----over that, as if the arch-jockey of jockeys had got behind me.
Now ride at this rate with what good intention and resolution you may----'tis a million to one you'll do some one a mischief, if not yourself ------He's flung--he's off--he's lost his hat--he's down------he'll break his neck----see! ----if he has not galloped full among the scaffolding of the undertaking criticks! ----he'll knock his brains out against some of their posts--he's bounced out! --look--he's now riding like a mad-cap full tilt through a whole crowd of painters, fiddlers, poets, biographers, physicians, lawyers, logicians, players, schoolmen, churchmen, statesmen, soldiers, casuists, connoisseurs, prelates, popes, and engineers. --Don't fear, said I --I'll not hurt the poorest jack-ass upon the king's highway. --But your horse throws dirt; see you've splash'd a bishop. ----I hope in God, 'twas only _Ernulphus_, said I. ------But you have squirted full in the faces of Mess. _Le Moyne_, _De Romigny_, and _De Marcilly_, doctors of the _Sorbonne_. ------That was last year, replied I. --But you have trod this moment upon a king. ----Kings have bad times on't, said I, to be trod upon by such people as me.
You have done it, replied my accuser.
I deny it, quoth I, and so have got off, and here am I standing with my bridle in one hand, and with my cap in the other, to tell my story. ------And what is it? You shall hear in the next chapter.
[Footnote 4.8: According to the original Editions.]

What a rate have I gone on at, frisking it away for four volumes, without looking once behind, to see whom I trod upon!
'I'll tread upon no one,' quoth I to myself when I mounted - 'I'll take a good rattling gallop; but I'll not hurt the poorest jackass upon the road.'
So off I set - up one lane - down another, through this turnpike - over that, as if the champion jockeys were behind me.
Now if you ride at this rate, however good your intention - 'tis a million to one you'll do some one a mischief, if not yourself. - He's been flung off - he's lost his hat - he'll break his neck - see! if he has not galloped full among the scaffolding of the critics! He'll knock his brains out against their posts - he's bounced out! - look - he's riding like a mad-cap full tilt through a crowd of painters, poets, physicians, lawyers, churchmen, statesmen, soldiers, prelates, popes, and engineers.
'Don't fear,' said I, 'I'll not hurt the poorest jackass upon the road.'
'But your horse throws dirt; see, you've splashed a bishop!'
'I hope to God, 'twas only Ernulphus,' said I.
'But you've squirted full in the faces of the doctors of the Sorbonne!'
'That was last year,' replied I.
'But you have just trod upon a king!'
'I deny it,' quoth I, and so have got off, and here am I standing with my bridle in one hand, and my cap in the other, to tell my story.
And what is it? You shall hear in the next chapter.


--Then reach me my breeches off the chair, said my father to _Susannah_. ----There is not a moment's time to dress you, Sir, cried _Susannah_--the child is as black in the face as my ----As your what? said my father, for like all orators, he was a dear searcher into comparisons. --Bless me, Sir, said _Susannah_, the child's in a fit. --And where's Mr. _Yorick?_ --Never where he should be, said _Susannah_, but his curate's in the dressing-room, with the child upon his arm, waiting for the name--and my mistress bid me run as fast as I could to know, as captain _Shandy_ is the godfather, whether it should not be called after him.
Were one sure, said my father to himself, scratching his eyebrow, that the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother _Toby_ as not--and it would be a pity, in such a case, to throw away so great a name as _Trismegistus_ upon him----but he may recover.
No, no, ----said my father to _Susannah_, I'll get up ------There is no time, cried _Susannah_, the child's as black as my shoe. _Trismegistus_, said my father ------But stay--thou art a leaky vessel, _Susannah_, added my father; canst thou carry _Trismegistus_ in thy head, the length of the gallery without scattering? ------Can I? cried _Susannah_, shutting the door in a huff. ----If she can, I'll be shot, said my father, bouncing out of bed in the dark, and groping for his breeches.
_Susannah_ ran with all speed along the gallery.
My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.
_Susannah_ got the start, and kept it--'Tis _Tris_--something, cried _Susannah_ --There is no christian-name in the world, said the curate, beginning with _Tris_--but _Tristram_. Then 'tis _Tristram-gistus_, quoth _Susannah_.
----There is no _gistus_ to it, noodle! --'tis my own name, replied the curate, dipping his hand, as he spoke, into the bason--_Tristram!_ said he, &c. &c. &c. &c., so _Tristram_ was I called, and _Tristram_ shall I be to the day of my death.
My father followed _Susannah_, with his night-gown across his arm, with nothing more than his breeches on, fastened through haste with but a single button, and that button through haste thrust only half into the button-hole.
----She has not forgot the name? cried my father, half opening the door. ----No, no, said the curate, with a tone of intelligence. ----And the child is better, cried _Susannah_. ----And how does your mistress? As well, said _Susannah_, as can be expected. --Pish! said my father, the button of his breeches slipping out of the button-hole --So that whether the interjection was levelled at _Susannah_, or the button-hole--whether Pish was an interjection of contempt or an interjection of modesty, is a doubt, and must be a doubt till I shall have time to write the three following favourite chapters, that is, my chapter of _chamber-maids_, my chapter of _pishes_, and my chapter of _button-holes_.
All the light I am able to give the reader at present is this, that the moment my father cried Pish! he whisk'd himself about--and with his breeches held up by one hand, and his night-gown thrown across the arm of the other, he turned along the gallery to bed, something slower than he came.

'Then reach me my breeches off the chair,' said my father to Susannah.
'There is no time to dress you, Sir,' cried Susannah; 'the child is as black in the face as my-'
'As your what?' said my father.
'Bless me, Sir,' said Susannah, 'the child's in a fit.'
'And where's Mr. Yorick?'
'Never where he should be,' said Susannah, 'but his curate's in the dressing-room, with the child upon his arm, waiting for the name - and my mistress bid me run as fast as I could to know, since Captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it should be called after him.'
'If one were sure,' said my father to himself, scratching his eyebrow, 'that the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother Toby - and it would be a pity, in that case, to throw away so great a name as Trismegistus upon him - but he may recover. No, no,' he said to Susannah. 'I'll get up.'
'There is no time,' cried Susannah, 'the child's as black as my shoe.'
'Trismegistus,' said my father. 'But stay - thou art a leaky vessel, Susannah. Canst thou carry Trismegistus in thy head, the length of the gallery without scattering it?'
'Can I?' cried Susannah, shutting the door in a huff.
'If she can, I'll be shot,' said my father, bouncing out of bed in the dark, and groping for his clothes.
Susannah ran with all speed along the gallery.
My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.
''Tis Tris - something,' cried Susannah.
'There is no christian-name in the world,' said the curate, 'beginning with Tris, but Tristram.'
'Then 'tis Tristram-gistus,' quoth Susannah.
'There is no gistus to it, noodle! - 'tis my own name,' replied the curate, dipping his hand into the basin. 'Tristram!' said he, &c. &c. &c.; so Tristram was I called, and Tristram shall I be to the day of my death.
My father followed Susannah, with nothing more than his breeches on, fastened through haste with but a single button, and that button only half in the button-hole.
'She has not forgot the name?' cried my father.
'No, no,' said the curate.
'And the child is better,' cried Susannah.
'And how does your mistress?'
'As well,' said Susannah, 'as can be expected.'
'Pish!' said my father, the button of his breeches slipping out of the button-hole. So whether that Pish was levelled at Susannah is a doubt, and must be a doubt till I have time to write the three following favourite chapters: that is, my chapter of chamber-maids, my chapter of Pishes, and my chapter of button-holes.
All I can say at present is this, that as my father cried 'Pish!' he whisked himself about - and with his breeches held up by one hand, he turned along the gallery to bed, somewhat slower than he came.


There is not a town in all _France_, which, in my opinion, looks better in the map, than MONTREUIL; ----I own, it does not look so well in the book of post-roads; but when you come to see it--to be sure it looks most pitifully.
There is one thing, however, in it at present very handsome; and that is, the inn-keeper's daughter: She has been eighteen months at _Amiens_, and six at _Paris_, in going through her classes; so knits, and sews, and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.----
--A slut! in running them over within these five minutes that I have stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white thread stocking----yes, yes --I see, you cunning gipsy! --'tis long and taper--you need not pin it to your knee--and that 'tis your own--and fits you exactly.----
----That Nature should have told this creature a word about a _statue's thumb!_
--But as this sample is worth all their thumbs----besides, I have her thumbs and fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any guide to me, --and as _Janatone_ withal (for that is her name) stands so well for a drawing----may I never draw more, or rather may I draw like a draught-horse, by main strength all the days of my life, --if I do not draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if I had her in the wettest drapery.----
--But your worships chuse rather that I give you the length, breadth, and perpendicular height of the great parish-church, or drawing of the faade of the abbey of Saint _Austerberte_ which has been transported from _Artois_ hither--everything is just I suppose as the masons and carpenters left them, --and if the belief in _Christ_ continues so long, will be so these fifty years to come--so your worships and reverences may all measure them at your leisures----but he who measures thee, _Janatone_, must do it now--thou carriest the principles of change within thy frame; and considering the chances of a transitory life, I would not answer for thee a moment; ere twice twelve months are passed and gone, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shapes----or thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beauty--nay, thou mayest go off like a hussy--and lose thyself. --I would not answer for my aunt _Dinah_, was she alive----'faith, scarce for her picture----were it but painted by _Reynolds_--
But if I go on with my drawing, after naming that son of _Apollo_, I'll be shot----
So you must e'en be content with the original; which, if the evening is fine in passing thro' _Montreuil_, you will see at your chaise-door, as you change horses: but unless you have as bad a reason for haste as I have--you had better stop: ----She has a little of the _devote_: but that, sir, is a terce to a nine in your favour------
--L--help me! I could not count a single point: so had been piqued and repiqued, and capotted to the devil.

There is not a town in all France which looks better on the map than Montreuil; but when you come to see it - it looks pitiful.
There is one thing, however, in it that is very handsome; and that is the inn-keeper's daughter. She has been eighteen months at school in Amiens, and six at Paris; so she knits, and sews, and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.
- A slut! In these five minutes that I have stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white thread stocking - yes, yes, I see, you cunning gipsy! - you need not pin it to your knee.
- That Nature should have told this creature about a statue's thumb!
- But as this sample is worth all their thumbs - and as Janatone (for that is her name) stands so well for a drawing - may I never draw more, if I do not draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if I had her in the wettest drapery.
- But your worships choose rather that I should give you the length, breadth, and height of the great parish-church, or draw the abbey of Saint Austerberte, which was transported here from Artois, so that your worships may measure them at your leisure. But he who measures thee, Janatone, must do it now - thy frame will change - and before twice twelve months are passed, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shape - or thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beauty - nay, thou mayest go off like a hussy, and lose thyself.
But if I go on with my drawing, I'll be shot-
So you must be content with the original; which, on a fine evening in Montreuil, you will see as you change horses: but unless you have as bad a reason for haste as I have, you had better stop-
- Lord help me! I could not.


I call all the powers of time and chance, which severally check us in our careers in this world, to bear me witness, that I could never yet get fairly to my uncle _Toby's_ amours, till this very moment, that my mother's _curiosity_, as she stated the affair, ----or a different impulse in her, as my father would have it----wished her to take a peep at them through the key-hole.
"Call it, my dear, by its right name, quoth my father, and look through the key-hole as long as you will."
Nothing but the fermentation of that little subacid humour, which I have often spoken of, in my father's habit, could have vented such an insinuation----he was however frank and generous in his nature, and at all times open to conviction; so that he had scarce got to the last word of this ungracious retort, when his conscience smote him.
My mother was then conjugally swinging with her left arm twisted under his right, in such wise, that the inside of her hand rested upon the back of his--she raised her fingers, and let them fall--it could scarce be call'd a tap; or if it was a tap---- 'twould have puzzled a casuist to say, whether 'twas a tap of remonstrance, or a tap of confession: my father, who was all sensibilities from head to foot, class'd it right --Conscience redoubled her blow--he turn'd his face suddenly the other way, and my mother supposing his body was about to turn with it in order to move homewards, by a cross movement of her right leg, keeping her left as its centre, brought herself so far in front, that as he turned his head, he met her eye ------Confusion again! he saw a thousand reasons to wipe out the reproach, and as many to reproach himself----a thin, blue, chill, pellucid chrystal with all its humours so at rest, the least mote or speck of desire might have been seen, at the bottom of it, had it existed----it did not----and how I happen to be so lewd myself, particularly a little before the vernal and autumnal equinoxes ----Heaven above knows ----My mother----madam----was so at no time, either by nature, by institution, or example.
A temperate current of blood ran orderly through her veins in all months of the year, and in all critical moments both of the day and night alike; nor did she superinduce the least heat into her humours from the manual effervescencies of devotional tracts, which having little or no meaning in them, nature is oft-times obliged to find one ----And as for my father's example! 'twas so far from being either aiding or abetting thereunto, that 'twas the whole business of his life to keep all fancies of that kind out of her head ----Nature had done her part, to have spared him this trouble; and what was not a little inconsistent, my father knew it ----And here am I sitting, this 12th day of _August_ 1766, in a purple jerkin and yellow pair of slippers, without either wig or cap on, a most tragicomical completion of his prediction, "That I should neither think, nor act like any other man's child, upon that very account."
The mistake in my father, was in attacking my mother's motive, instead of the act itself; for certainly key-holes were made for other purposes; and considering the act, as an act which interfered with a true proposition, and denied a key-hole to be what it was------it became a violation of nature; and was so far, you see, criminal.
It is for this reason, an' please your Reverences, That key-holes are the occasions of more sin and wickedness, than all other holes in this world put together.
------which leads me to my uncle _Toby's_ amours.

I call all the powers of time and chance, which check us in our careers in this world, to bear witness that I could never yet get fairly to my uncle Toby's amours till this very moment, when my mother's curiosity - or a different impulse in her, as my father would have it - made her wish to peep through the key-hole.
'Call it, my dear, by its right name,' quoth my father, 'and look through the key-hole as long as you like.'
Nothing but the fermentation of that little subacid humour, which I have often spoken of, in my father, could have made such an insinuation. He was however frank and generous in his nature; so that he had scarce finished this ungracious retort, when his conscience smote him.
My mother was at that moment conjugally swinging with her left arm twisted under his right, in such a way that the inside of her hand rested upon the back of his - she raised her fingers, and let them fall - it could scarce be called a tap; or if it was a tap, 'twould be hard to say whether 'twas a tap of remonstrance, or of confession.
My father classed it right - Conscience redoubled her blow. - He turned his face suddenly the other way, and my mother, supposing his body was about to turn with it, by a cross movement of her right leg, brought herself so far in front, that as he turned his head, he met her eye.
- Confusion again! he saw a thousand reasons to wipe out the reproach, and as many to reproach himself - a thin, blue, chill crystal, so clear that the least speck of desire might have been seen, if it had existed - it did not - and how I happen to be so lewd myself, particularly before the equinoxes, Heaven above knows - for my mother was never so.
Temperate blood ran orderly through her veins at all times; she had never the least heat in her humours. - And as for my father! 'Twas the whole business of his life to keep all fancies of that kind out of her head. Nature had done her part to spare him this trouble; and my father knew it.
- And here am I sitting, this 12th day of August 1766, in a purple jerkin and yellow slippers, without either wig or cap on, a most tragicomical completion of his prediction, 'That I should neither think, nor act like any other man's child, upon that very account.'
My father's mistake was in attacking my mother's motive, instead of her act; for certainly key-holes were made for other purposes; and the act denied a key-hole to be what it was. It became a violation of nature; and so was, you see, criminal.
This is why, your Reverences, key-holes are the occasions of more sin and wickedness than all other holes in this world put together.
- which leads me to my uncle Toby's amours.


Though my father travelled homewards, as I told you, in none of the best of moods, --pshawing and pishing all the way down, --yet he had the complaisance to keep the worst part of the story still to himself; --which was the resolution he had taken of doing himself the justice, which my uncle _Toby's_ clause in the marriage-settlement empowered him; nor was it till the very night in which I was begot, which was thirteen months after, that she had the least intimation of his design: when my father, happening, as you remember, to be a little chagrin'd and out of temper, ----took occasion as they lay chatting gravely in bed afterwards, talking over what was to come, ----to let her know that she must accommodate herself as well as she could to the bargain made between them in their marriage-deeds; which was to lye-in of her next child in the country, to balance the last year's journey.
My father was a gentleman of many virtues, --but he had a strong spice of that in his temper, which might, or might not, add to the number. --'Tis known by the name of perseverance in a good cause, --and of obstinacy in a bad one: Of this my mother had so much knowledge, that she knew 'twas to no purpose to make any remonstrance, --so she e'en resolved to sit down quietly, and make the most of it.

Though my father travelled homewards, as I told you, in none of the best of moods, pshawing and pishing all the way down, yet he kept the worst part of the story to himself: which was his resolution to hold my mother to my uncle Toby's clause in the marriage-settlement. It was not until the very night in which I was begot, which was thirteen months after, that she had the least idea of his intention: when my father, happening, as you remember, to be a little annoyed and out of temper, took occasion as they lay chatting gravely in bed afterwards, to let her know that she must keep to the bargain made between them in their marriage-deeds, and lie-in with her next child at home, to balance last year's journey.
My father was a gentleman of many virtues, but he had a strong spice in his nature which might be called either the virtue of perseverance, or the vice of obstinacy. Because my mother knew this, she knew 'twas no use remonstrating; so she resolved to sit down quietly, and make the most of it.


Obadiah gained the two crowns without dispute; for he came in jingling, with all the instruments in the green bays bag we spoke of, slung across his body, just as Corporal _Trim_ went out of the room.
It is now proper, I think, quoth Dr. _Slop_ (clearing up his looks), as we are in a condition to be of some service to Mrs. _Shandy_, to send upstairs to know how she goes on.
I have ordered, answered my father, the old midwife to come down to us upon the least difficulty; --for you must know, Dr. _Slop_, continued my father, with a perplexed kind of a smile upon his countenance, that by express treaty, solemnly ratified between me and my wife, you are no more than an auxiliary in this affair, --and not so much as that, --unless the lean old mother of a midwife above stairs cannot do without you. --Women have their particular fancies, and in points of this nature, continued my father, where they bear the whole burden, and suffer so much acute pain for the advantage of our families, and the good of the species, --they claim a right of deciding, _en Souveraines_, in whose hands, and in what fashion, they choose to undergo it.
They are in the right of it, ----quoth my uncle _Toby_. But, Sir, replied Dr. _Slop_, not taking notice of my uncle _Toby's_ opinion, but turning to my father, --they had better govern in other points; ----and a father of a family, who wishes its perpetuity, in my opinion, had better exchange this prerogative with them, and give up some other rights in lieu of it. ----I know not, quoth my father, answering a little too testily, to be quite dispassionate in what he said, --I know not, quoth he, what we have left to give up, in lieu of who shall bring our children into the world, unless that, --of who shall beget them. ------One would almost give up anything, replied Dr. _Slop_. --I beg your pardon, ----answered my uncle _Toby_. --Sir, replied Dr. _Slop_, it would astonish you to know what improvements we have made of late years in all branches of obstetrical knowledge, but particularly in that one single point of the safe and expeditious extraction of the _ftus_, ----which has received such lights, that, for my part (holding up his hands) I declare I wonder how the world has ----I wish, quoth my uncle _Toby_, you had seen what prodigious armies we had in _Flanders_.

Obadiah came in jingling, with all the instruments in the green baize bag we spoke of, slung across his body, just as Corporal Trim went out.
'It is now proper, I think,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'to send upstairs to know how Mrs. Shandy goes on.'
'I have ordered,' answered my father, 'the old midwife to come down to us if there is the least difficulty; for you must know, Dr. Slop,' he continued, with a perplexed kind of smile, 'that by a treaty between me and my wife, you are no more than an auxiliary in this affair, - and not even that, unless the midwife upstairs cannot do without you. Women have their fancies, and in these situations they claim a right of deciding in whose hands they shall undergo it.'
'They are right,' quoth my uncle Toby.
'But, Sir,' replied Dr. Slop to my father, ignoring my uncle, 'the father of a family, who wishes its perpetuity, in my opinion, had better insist on this prerogative, and give up some other rights instead.'
'I know not,' quoth my father testily, 'what we have left to give up, in lieu of who shall bring our children into the world, unless the right of who shall beget them.'
'Sir,' replied Dr. Slop, 'it would astonish you to know what improvements we have made of late years in all branches of obstetrical knowledge, but particularly in that the safe and expeditious extraction of the foetus, which has received such lights, that for my part I wonder how the world has-'
- 'I wish,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'you had seen what prodigious armies we had in Flanders.'


My uncle _Toby_ and the corporal had gone on separately with their operations the greatest part of the campaign, and as effectually cut off from all communication of what either the one or the other had been doing, as if they had been separated from each other by the _Maes_ or the _Sambre_.
My uncle _Toby_, on his side, had presented himself every afternoon in his red and silver, and blue and gold alternately, and sustained an infinity of attacks in them, without knowing them to be attacks--and so had nothing to communicate----
The corporal, on his side, in taking _Bridget_, by it had gain'd considerable advantages----and consequently had much to communicate----but what were the advantages----as well as what was the manner by which he had seiz'd them, required so nice an historian, that the corporal durst not venture upon it; and as sensible as he was of glory, would rather have been contented to have gone bareheaded and without laurels for ever, than torture his master's modesty for a single moment----
----Best of honest and gallant servants! ----But I have apostrophiz'd thee, _Trim!_ once before----and could I apotheosize thee also (that is to say) with good company ----I would do it _without ceremony_ in the very next page.

My uncle Toby and the corporal had gone on separately with their operations for most of the campaign, and had cut off all communication from each other as effectively as if they had been separated by the Maes or the Sambre.
My uncle Toby, on his side, had presented himself every afternoon in his red and silver, and blue and gold alternately, and sustained an infinity of attacks in them, without knowing them to be attacks - and so had nothing to communicate-
The corporal, on his side, in taking Bridget, had gained considerable advantages - and consequently had much to communicate - but the nature of the advantages, and the manner by which he had seized them, required so careful a telling that the corporal dared not try it. Though aware of glory, he would rather have gone without laurels for ever, than torture his master's modesty for a single moment-
Best of honest and gallant servants! Could I raise thee amongst the gods, Trim - I would do it in the very next page.


No matter how, or in what mood--but I flew from the tomb of the lovers--or rather I did not fly _from_ it--(for there was no such thing existing) and just got time enough to the boat to save my passage; --and ere I had sailed a hundred yards, the _Rhne_ and the _San_ met together, and carried me down merrily betwixt them.
But I have described this voyage down the _Rhne_, before I made it----
----So now I am at _Avignon_, and as there is nothing to see but the old house, in which the duke of _Ormond_ resided, and nothing to stop me but a short remark upon the place, in three minutes you will see me crossing the bridge upon a mule, with _Franois_ upon a horse with my portmanteau behind him, and the owner of both, striding the way before us, with a long gun upon his shoulder, and a sword under his arm, lest peradventure we should run away with his cattle. Had you seen my breeches in entering _Avignon_, ----Though you'd have seen them better, I think, as I mounted--you would not have thought the precaution amiss, or found in your heart to have taken it in dudgeon; for my own part, I took it most kindly; and determined to make him a present of them, when we got to the end of our journey, for the trouble they had put him to, of arming himself at all points against them.
Before I go further, let me get rid of my remark upon _Avignon_, which is this: That I think it wrong, merely because a man's hat has been blown off his head by chance the first night he comes to _Avignon_, ----that he should therefore say, "_Avignon_ is more subject to high winds than any town in all _France_:" for which reason I laid no stress upon the accident till I had enquired of the master of the inn about it, who telling me seriously it was so----and hearing, moreover, the windiness of _Avignon_ spoke of in the country about as a proverb ----I set it down, merely to ask the learned what can be the cause----the consequence I saw--for they are all Dukes, Marquisses, and Counts, there----the duce a Baron, in all _Avignon_----so that there is scarce any talking to them on a windy day.
Prithee, friend, said I, take hold of my mule for a moment----for I wanted to pull off one of my jack-boots, which hurt my heel--the man was standing quite idle at the door of the inn, and as I had taken it into my head, he was someway concerned about the house or stable, I put the bridle into his hand--so begun with the boot: --when I had finished the affair, I turned about to take the mule from the man, and thank him----
------But _Monsieur le Marquis_ had walked in----

I flew from the tomb of the lovers - or rather I did not (for it did not exist) and just reached the boat in time to save my passage. Before I had sailed a hundred yards, the Rhne and the Sane met, and carried me down merrily betwixt them.
But I have described this voyage down the Rhne before I made it-
So now I am at Avignon, and as there is nothing to stop me but a short remark upon the place, in three minutes you will see me crossing the bridge on a mule, with Franois upon a horse, and the owner of both striding before us with a long gun upon his shoulder, and a sword under his arm, lest we should run away with his animals. Had you seen my breeches, you would not have thought the precaution amiss.
Before I go further, let me get rid of my remark upon Avignon, which is this:
That I think it wrong, merely because a man's hat has been blown off his head the first night he comes to Avignon, that he should therefore say, 'Avignon is the windiest town in all France.'
This is why I laid no stress upon the accident till I had enquired of the inn-keeper about it. When I was told seriously it was so - and hearing, moreover, the windiness of Avignon spoke of as a proverb - I set it down, merely to ask the learned what can be the cause. The consequence I saw - for they are all Dukes, Marquisses, and Counts in Avignon - so that there is scarce any talking to them on a windy day.
'Prithee, friend,' said I, 'hold my mule for a moment,' - for I wanted to pull off one of my jack-boots, which hurt my heel. The man was standing quite idle outside the door of the inn, and I assumed he was in some way concerned with the house or stable; so I put the bridle into his hand and begun with the boot.
When I had finished, I turned to take the mule from the man, and thank him-
But Monsieur le Marquis had walked in-


Imagine to yourself a little squat, uncourtly figure of a Doctor _Slop_, of about four feet and a half perpendicular height, with a breadth of back, and a sesquipedality of belly, which might have done honour to a serjeant in the horse-guards.
Such were the out-lines of Dr. _Slop's_ figure, which, --if you have read _Hogarth's_ analysis of beauty, and if you have not, I wish you would; ----you must know, may as certainly be caricatured, and conveyed to the mind by three strokes as three hundred.
Imagine such a one, ----for such, I say, were the outlines of Dr. _Slop's_ figure, coming slowly along, foot by foot, waddling thro' the dirt upon the vertebr of a little diminutive pony, of a pretty colour----but of strength, ----alack! ----scarce able to have made an amble of it, under such a fardel, had the roads been in an ambling condition. ----They were not. ----Imagine to yourself, _Obadiah_ mounted upon a strong monster of a coach-horse, pricked into a full gallop, and making all practicable speed the adverse way.
Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment in this description.
Had Dr. _Slop_ beheld _Obadiah_ a mile off, posting in a narrow lane directly towards him, at that monstrous rate, --splashing and plunging like a devil thro' thick and thin, as he approached, would not such a phnomenon, with such a vortex of mud and water moving along with it, round its axis, --have been a subject of juster apprehension to Dr. _Slop_ in his situation, than the _worst_ of _Whiston's_ comets? --To say nothing of the NUCLEUS; that is, of _Obadiah_ and the coach-horse. --In my idea, the vortex alone of 'em was enough to have involved and carried, if not the doctor, at least the doctor's pony, quite away with it. What then do you think must the terror and hydrophobia of Dr. _Slop_ have been, when you read (which you are just going to do) that he was advancing thus warily along towards _Shandy-Hall_, and had approached to within sixty yards of it, and within five yards of a sudden turn, made by an acute angle of the garden-wall, --and in the dirtiest part of a dirty lane, --when _Obadiah_ and his coach-horse turned the corner, rapid, furious, --pop, --full upon him! --Nothing, I think, in nature, can be supposed more terrible than such a rencounter, --so imprompt! so ill prepared to stand the shock of it as Dr. _Slop_ was.
What could Dr. _Slop_ do? ----he crossed himself + --Pugh! --but the doctor, Sir, was a Papist. --No matter; he had better have kept hold of the pummel --He had so; --nay, as it happened, he had better have done nothing at all; for in crossing himself he let go his whip, ----and in attempting to save his whip betwixt his knee and his saddle's skirt, as it slipped, he lost his stirrup, ----in losing which he lost his seat; ----and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by the bye, shews what little advantage there is in crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind. So that without waiting for _Obadiah's_ onset, he left his pony to its destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, something in the stile and manner of a pack of wool, and without any other consequence from the fall, save that of being left (as it would have been) with the broadest part of him sunk about twelve inches deep in the mire.
_Obadiah_ pull'd off his cap twice to Dr. _Slop_; --once as he was falling, --and then again when he saw him seated. ----Ill-timed complaisance; --had not the fellow better have stopped his horse, and got off and help'd him? --Sir, he did all that his situation would allow; --but the MOMENTUM of the coach-horse was so great, that _Obadiah_ could not do it all at once; he rode in a circle three times round Dr. _Slop_, before he could fully accomplish it any how; --and at the last, when he did stop his beast, 'twas done with such an explosion of mud, that _Obadiah_ had better have been a league off. In short, never was a Dr. _Slop_ so beluted, and so transubstantiated, since that affair came into fashion.

Imagine to yourself a little squat, uncourtly figure of a Doctor Slop, about four feet and a half in height, but with considerable breadth of belly.
Imagine him waddling slowly through the dirt upon a little pony, scarce able, alack! to walk under such a burden, even had the roads been good. - They were not. - Now imagine Obadiah mounted upon a strong monster of a coach-horse, in full gallop, and speeding the opposite way.
Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment in this description.
If Dr. Slop had beheld Obadiah a mile off, in a narrow lane, heading directly towards him at that monstrous rate, splashing and plunging like a devil through thick and thin as he approached, would not such a phenomenon, with such a vortex of mud and water round its axis, have been more fearful to Dr. Slop than the worst of Whiston's comets?
- To say nothing of the Nucleus; that is, of Obadiah and the coach-horse. - In my idea, the vortex alone of 'em was enough to carry, if not the doctor, at least the doctor's pony, quite away. What then do you think Dr. Slop's terror must have been, when you read (which you are just going to do) that he was advancing towards Shandy-Hall, and was within five yards of a sharp angle in the dirtiest part of a dirty lane, - when Obadiah and his coach-horse turned the corner, rapid, furious - pop - full upon him!
What could Dr. Slop do? - he crossed himself + (for the doctor, Sir, was a Papist.) He would have done better to have kept hold of the pummel - nay, to have done nothing at all; for in crossing himself he let go his whip, and in attempting to save his whip, he lost his stirrup, - in losing which he lost his seat; - and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by the bye, shows what little point there is in crossing oneself) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind.
Tumbling off his pony like a pack of wool, he landed with the broadest part of him sunk twelve inches deep in the mire.
Obadiah had been riding so fast, and the Momentum of the coach-horse was so great, that he rode in a circle three times round Dr. Slop, before he stopped his beast; and then 'twas done with such an explosion of mud that he had better have kept his distance. Never was a Dr. Slop so bespattered, and so transubstantiated into mud.


----What a conjecture was here lost! ----My father in one of his best explanatory moods--in eager pursuit of a metaphysical point into the very regions, where clouds and thick darkness would soon have encompassed it about; --my uncle _Toby_ in one of the finest dispositions for it in the world; --his head like a smoak-jack; ----the funnel unswept, and the ideas whirling round and round about in it, all obfuscated and darkened over with fuliginous matter! --By the tomb-stone of _Lucian_----if it is in being----if not, why then by his ashes! by the ashes of my dear _Rabelais_, and dearer _Cervantes!_------my father and my uncle _Toby's_ discourse upon TIME and ETERNITY----was a discourse devoutly to be wished for! and the petulancy of my father's humour, in putting a stop to it as he did, was a robbery of the _Ontologic Treasury_ of such a jewel, as no coalition of great occasions and great men are ever likely to restore to it again.

- What a conjecture was here lost! My father in one of his best explanatory moods - in eager pursuit of a metaphysical point into thick darkness; my uncle Toby with his head like a smoke-jack; - the funnel unswept, and the ideas whirling round in it, all darkened with soot! By the ashes of my dear Rabelais, and dearer Cervantes! - my father and my uncle's discourse upon Time and Eternity was devoutly to be wished for! and my father's petulance in putting a stop to it as he did, was a robbery of such a philosophical jewel, as is never likely to occur again.


----I think it a very unreasonable demand--cried my great-grandfather, twisting up the paper, and throwing it upon the table. ----By this account, madam, you have but two thousand pounds fortune, and not a shilling more--and you insist upon having three hundred pounds a year jointure for it.------
--"Because," replied my great-grandmother, "you have little or no nose, Sir."--
Now before I venture to make use of the word _Nose_ a second time--to avoid all confusion in what will be said upon it, in this interesting part of my story, it may not be amiss to explain my own meaning, and define, with all possible exactness and precision, what I would willingly be understood to mean by the term: being of opinion, that 'tis owing to the negligence and perverseness of writers in despising this precaution, and to nothing else----that all the polemical writings in divinity are not as clear and demonstrative as those upon _a Will o' the Wisp_, or any other sound part of philosophy, and natural pursuit; in order to which, what have you to do, before you set out, unless you intend to go puzzling on to the day of judgment----but to give the world a good definition, and stand to it, of the main word you have most occasion for----changing it, Sir, as you would a guinea, into small coin? --which done--let the father of confusion puzzle you, if he can; or put a different idea either into your head, or your reader's head, if he knows how.
In books of strict morality and close reasoning, such as this I am engaged in--the neglect is inexcusable; and Heaven is witness, how the world has revenged itself upon me for leaving so many openings to equivocal strictures--and for depending so much as I have done, all along, upon the cleanliness of my readers' imaginations.
----Here are two senses, cried _Eugenius_, as we walk'd along, pointing with the forefinger of his right hand to the word _Crevice_, in the one hundred and seventy-eighth page of the first volume of this book of books; ------here are two senses--quoth he --And here are two roads, replied I, turning short upon him----a dirty and a clean one----which shall we take? --The clean, by all means, replied _Eugenius_. _Eugenius_, said I, stepping before him, and laying my hand upon his breast----to define--is to distrust. ----Thus I triumph'd over _Eugenius_; but I triumph'd over him as I always do, like a fool. ----'Tis my comfort, however, I am not an obstinate one: therefore
I define a nose as follows--intreating only beforehand, and beseeching my readers, both male and female, of what age, complexion, and condition soever, for the love of God and their own souls, to guard against the temptations and suggestions of the devil, and suffer him by no art or wile to put any other ideas into their minds, than what I put into my definition --For by the word _Nose_, throughout all this long chapter of noses, and in every other part of my work, where the word _Nose_ occurs --I declare, by that word I mean a nose, and nothing more, or less.

'I think it a very unreasonable demand,' cried my great-grandfather, twisting up the paper, and throwing it upon the table. 'By this account, madam, you have only two thousand pounds fortune - and yet you insist upon having three hundred pounds a year jointure after my death.'
'Because,' replied my great-grandmother, 'you have little or no nose, Sir.'
Now before I use the word Nose again - to avoid all confusion in this interesting part of my story, I shall define exactly what I mean by the term: being of the opinion that negligent writers who despise this precaution make themselves as clear as a Will o' the Wisp: in order to which, what you have to do, before you set out, unless you intend to go puzzling on to the day of judgment - but to give the world a good definition, and stand to it, of the main word you have most occasion for - changing it, Sir, as you would a guinea, into small coin? which done - let the father of confusion puzzle you, if he can; or put a different idea either into your head, or your reader's head, if he knows how.
In books of strict morality and close reasoning, such as this one, neglecting to make yourself clear is inexcusable; and Heaven is witness, how the world has revenged itself upon me for leaving so many openings to equivocal meanings - and for depending so much upon the cleanliness of my readers' imaginations.
'Here are two meanings,' cried Eugenius, pointing with his forefinger at the word Crevice, in the one hundred and seventy-eighth page of the first volume of this book.
'And here are two roads,' replied I, 'a dirty and a clean one - which shall we take?'
'The clean,' replied Eugenius.
'Eugenius', said I, stepping before him, 'to define is to distrust.' Thus I triumphed over Eugenius; but I triumphed over him like a fool. However, I am not an obstinate one: therefore-
I define a nose as follows - only beseeching my readers, both male and female, for the love of God to guard against the suggestions of the devil, and not to allow him to put any other ideas into their minds, than this.
For by the word Nose, throughout all this long chapter of noses, and in every other part of my work, where the word Nose occurs - I declare, by that word I mean a nose, and nothing more, or less.


My uncle _Toby_ took the ivory pipe out of the corporal's hand, --looked at it for half a minute, and returned it.
In less than two minutes, my uncle _Toby_ took the pipe from the corporal again, and raised it half way to his mouth----then hastily gave it back a second time.
The corporal redoubled the attack, ----my uncle _Toby_ smiled, ----then looked grave, ----then smiled for a moment, ----then looked serious for a long time; ----Give me hold of the ivory pipe, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_----my uncle _Toby_ put it to his lips, ----drew it back directly, --gave a peep over the horn-beam hedge; ----never did my uncle _Toby's_ mouth water so much for a pipe in his life. ----My uncle _Toby_ retired into the sentry-box with the pipe in his hand.------
----Dear uncle _Toby!_ don't go into the sentry-box with the pipe, --there's no trusting a man's self with such a thing in such a corner.

My uncle Toby took the ivory pipe out of the corporal's hand - looked at it for half a minute, and returned it.
Then he took it from the corporal again, and raised it half way to his mouth - and hastily gave it back a second time.
The corporal redoubled the attack; my uncle Toby smiled - then looked grave - then smiled for a moment - then looked serious for a long time.
'Give me the ivory pipe, Trim,' said my uncle Toby. Never did my uncle's mouth water so much for a pipe in his life. He retired into the sentry-box with the pipe in his hand.
Dear uncle Toby! don't go into the sentry-box with the pipe; - you can't trust a man with such a thing in such a corner.


----But she did not know I was under a vow not to shave my beard till I got to _Paris_; ----yet I hate to make mysteries of nothing; ----'tis the cold cautiousness of one of those little souls from which _Lessius_ (_lib._ 13, _de moribus divinis, cap._ 24) hath made his estimate, wherein he setteth forth, That one _Dutch_ mile, cubically multiplied, will allow room enough, and to spare, for eight hundred thousand millions, which he supposes to be as great a number of souls (counting from the fall of _Adam_) as can possibly be damn'd to the end of the world.
From what he has made this second estimate----unless from the parental goodness of God --I don't know --I am much more at a loss what could be in _Franciscus Ribbera's_ head, who pretends that no less a space than one of two hundred _Italian_ miles multiplied into itself, will be sufficient to hold the like number----he certainly must have gone upon some of the old _Roman_ souls, of which he had read, without reflecting how much, by a gradual and most tabid decline, in the course of eighteen hundred years, they must unavoidably have shrunk so as to have come, when he wrote, almost to nothing.
In _Lessius's_ time, who seems the cooler man, they were as little as can be imagined----
----We find them less _now_----
And next winter we shall find them less again; so that if we go on from little to less, and from less to nothing, I hesitate not one moment to affirm, that in half a century, at this rate, we shall have no souls at all; which being the period beyond which I doubt likewise of the existence of the Christian faith, 'twill be one advantage that both of 'em will be exactly worn out together.
Blessed _Jupiter!_ and blessed every other heathen god and goddess! for now ye will all come into play again, and with _Priapus_ at your tails----what jovial times! ----but where am I? and into what a delicious riot of things am I rushing? I ----I who must be cut short in the midst of my days, and taste no more of 'em than what I borrow from my imagination----peace to thee, generous fool! and let me go on.

But she did not know I had vowed not to shave my beard till I got to Paris; yet I hate to make mysteries of nothing. 'Tis the cold cautiousness of one of those little souls from which Lessius (De Moribus Divinis, book 13, ch. 24) hath made his estimate, that one Dutch cubic mile will allow room enough for eight hundred thousand million souls, which he supposes to be as many as can possibly be damned to the end of the world.
I am at a loss as to what could be in Franciscus Ribbera's head, when he pretends that no less a space than two hundred Italian miles cubed will be sufficient to hold the same number - he certainly must have counted some of the old Roman souls, without reflecting how much, by a gradual decline in the course of eighteen hundred years, they must have shrunk almost to nothing.
In Lessius's time, these souls were as little as can be imagined - we find them less now-
And next winter we shall find them less again; so that if we go on this way, I have no doubt that in half a century we shall have no souls at all; by that time I doubt likewise of the existence of the Christian faith; both of 'em will be exactly worn out together.
Blessed Jupiter! and blessed every other heathen god and goddess! for then ye will all come into play again, with Priapus at your tails - what jovial times!
- but where am I? and into what a delicious riot of things am I rushing? I, who must be cut short in the midst of my days! - peace to thee, generous fool! and let me go on.


With all this learning upon Noses running perpetually in my father's fancy----with so many family prejudices--and ten decads of such tales running on for ever along with them----how was it possible with such exquisite----was it a true nose? ----That a man with such exquisite feelings as my father had, could bear the shock at all below stairs----or indeed above stairs, in any other posture, but the very posture I have described?
----Throw yourself down upon the bed, a dozen times----taking care only to place a looking-glass first in a chair on one side of it, before you do it --But was the stranger's nose a true nose, or was it a false one?
To tell that before-hand, madam, would be to do injury to one of the best tales in the Christian-world; and that is the tenth of the tenth decad, which immediately follows this.
This tale, cried _Slawkenbergius_, somewhat exultingly, has been reserved by me for the concluding tale of my whole work; knowing right well, that when I shall have told it, and my reader shall have read it thro'--'twould be even high time for both of us to shut up the book; inasmuch, continues _Slawkenbergius_, as I know of no tale which could possibly ever go down after it.
'Tis a tale indeed!
This sets out with the first interview in the inn at _Lyons_, when _Fernandez_ left the courteous stranger and his sister _Julia_ alone in her chamber, and is over-written
_THE INTRICACIES_ of _Diego_ and _Julia_
Heavens! thou art a strange creature, _Slawkenbergius!_ what a whimsical view of the involutions of the heart of woman hast thou opened! how this can ever be translated, and yet if this specimen of _Slawkenbergius's_ tales, and the exquisitiveness of his moral, should please the world--translated shall a couple of volumes be. ------Else, how this can ever be translated into good _English_, I have no sort of conception. --There seems in some passages to want a sixth sense to do it rightly. ----What can he mean by the lambent pupilability of slow, low, dry chat, five notes below the natural tone----which you know, madam, is little more than a whisper? The moment I pronounced the words, I could perceive an attempt towards a vibration in the strings, about the region of the heart. ------The brain made no acknowledgment. ----There's often no good understanding betwixt 'em --I felt as if I understood it. ----I had no ideas. ----The movement could not be without cause. --I'm lost. I can make nothing of it--unless, may it please your worships, the voice, in that case being little more than a whisper, unavoidably forces the eyes to approach not only within six inches of each other--but to look into the pupils--is not that dangerous? ----But it can't be avoided--for to look up to the ceiling, in that case the two chins unavoidably meet----and to look down into each other's lap, the foreheads come to immediate contact, which at once puts an end to the conference ----I mean to the sentimental part of it. ----What is left, madam, is not worth stooping for.

With all this learning upon Noses running perpetually in my father's fancy - with so many family prejudices - ten decads of such tales - how could a man with such exquisite feelings as my father bear the shock in any other posture, but the very one I have described?
Throw yourself down upon the bed - only place a looking-glass in a chair beside it, before you do-
- But was the stranger's nose a true nose, or a false one?
To tell that before-hand, madam, would spoil one of the best tales in the Christian-world; and that is the tenth of the tenth decad, which immediately follows it.
This tale, cried Slawkenbergius, somewhat exultingly, has been reserved by me for the conclusion of my whole work, as I know of no tale which could possibly ever go down after it.
'Tis a tale indeed!
It starts with the first interview in the inn at Lyons, when Fernandez left the courteous stranger and his sister Julia alone in her chamber, and is titled
THE INTRICACIES OF DIEGO AND JULIA
Heavens! thou art a strange creature, Slawkenbergius! what a whimsical view of the heart of woman hast thou opened! How this can ever be translated into good English, I have no idea. There seems a sixth sense needed to do it rightly. What can he mean by 'the lambent pupilability of slow, low, dry chat, five notes below the natural tone' - which you know, madam, is little more than a whisper?
The moment I pronounced the words, I felt something like a vibration in the heart-strings. - The brain made no acknowledgment. There's often no good understanding betwixt 'em. - I'm lost. I can make nothing of it - unless the voice being little more than a whisper, it forces the eyes to approach within six inches of each other - and to look into the pupils - is not that dangerous? But it can't be avoided - for if they look up to the ceiling, the two chins unavoidably meet - and if they look down into each other's lap, the foreheads contact, which at once puts an end to the sentimental part of the conference. - What is left, madam, is not worth stooping for.


My father, as anybody may naturally imagine, came down with my mother into the country, in but a pettish kind of a humour. The first twenty or five-and-twenty miles he did nothing in the world but fret and teaze himself, and indeed my mother too, about the cursed expence, which he said might every shilling of it have been saved; --then what vexed him more than everything else was, the provoking time of the year, --which, as I told you, was towards the end of _September_, when his wall-fruit and green gages especially, in which he was very curious, were just ready for pulling: ----"Had he been whistled up to _London_, upon a _Tom Fool's_ errand, in any other month of the whole year, he should not have said three words about it."
For the next two whole stages, no subject would go down, but the heavy blow he had sustain'd from the loss of a son, whom it seems he had fully reckon'd upon in his mind, and register'd down in his pocket-book, as a second staff for his old age, in case _Bobby_ should fail him. The disappointment of this, he said, was ten times more to a wise man, than all the money which the journey, etc., had cost him, put together, --rot the hundred and twenty pounds, ----he did not mind it a rush.
From _Stilton_, all the way to _Grantham_, nothing in the whole affair provoked him so much as the condolences of his friends, and the foolish figure they should both make at church, the first _Sunday_; ----of which, in the satirical vehemence of his wit, now sharpen'd a little by vexation, he would give so many humorous and provoking descriptions, --and place his rib and self in so many tormenting lights and attitudes in the face of the whole congregation; --that my mother declared, these two stages were so truly tragi-comical, that she did nothing but laugh and cry in a breath, from one end to the other of them all the way.
From _Grantham_, till they had cross'd the _Trent_, my father was out of all kind of patience at the vile trick and imposition which he fancied my mother had put upon him in this affair-- "Certainly," he would say to himself, over and over again, "the woman could not be deceived herself----if she could, ----what weakness!" --tormenting word! --which led his imagination a thorny dance, and, before all was over, play'd the duce and all with him; ----for sure as ever the word _weakness_ was uttered, and struck full upon his brain--so sure it set him upon running divisions upon how many kinds of weaknesses there were; ----that there was such a thing as weakness of the body, ----as well as weakness of the mind, --and then he would do nothing but syllogize within himself for a stage or two together, How far the cause of all these vexations might, or might not, have arisen out of himself.
In short, he had so many little subjects of disquietude springing out of this one affair, all fretting successively in his mind as they rose up in it, that my mother, whatever was her journey up, had but an uneasy journey of it down. ----In a word, as she complained to my uncle _Toby_, he would have tired out the patience of any flesh alive.

After this false alarm, my father, as anybody may imagine, came back down with my mother into the country in a pettish humour. The first five-and-twenty miles he did nothing but fret and tease himself, and indeed my mother too, about the cursed expense, of which he said every shilling might have been saved; - then what vexed him more than everything else was the provoking time of the year, which, as I told you, was late September, when his wall-fruit and greengages were just ready for picking. 'Had he been whistled up to London upon a Fool's errand in any other month, he should not have cared.'
For the next few miles, his subject was the heavy blow he had sustained from the loss of a son, whom he had reckoned upon as a second staff for his old age, if Bobby should fail him. The disappointment of this, he said, was ten times more than all the money which the journey had cost: rot the hundred and twenty pounds, he did not mind it a rush.
From Stilton to Grantham, nothing in the whole affair provoked him so much as the condolences of his friends, and the foolish figure they should both make at church on Sunday; of which he gave so many satirical descriptions that my mother declared, on these two stages she did nothing but laugh and cry in a breath, all the way.
From Grantham till they had crossed the Trent, my father was out of patience at the vile trick which he fancied my mother had played him.
'Certainly,' he said to himself, over and over again, 'the woman could not be deceived. If she could, what weakness!'
- Tormenting word! which led his imagination a thorny dance, and played the deuce with him; for as soon as the word weakness was uttered, it set him upon counting how many kinds of weaknesses there were, of body and mind; and then he would brood for a stage or two together, how far the cause of these vexations might have arisen out of himself.
All in all, he had so many disquieting subjects fretting in his mind, that my mother, whatever her journey up, had but an uneasy journey of it down. In a word, (as she complained to my uncle Toby,) he would have tired out the patience of any flesh alive.


Yorick was this parson's name, and, what is very remarkable in it (as appears from a most ancient account of the family, wrote upon strong vellum, and now in perfect preservation) it had been exactly so spelt for near, ----I was within an ace of saying nine hundred years; ----but I would not shake my credit in telling an improbable truth, however indisputable in itself; ----and therefore I shall content myself with only saying ----It had been exactly so spelt, without the least variation or transposition of a single letter, for I do not know how long; which is more than I would venture to say of one half of the best surnames in the kingdom; which, in a course of years, have generally undergone as many chops and changes as their owners. --Has this been owing to the pride, or to the shame of the respective proprietors? --In honest truth, I think sometimes to the one, and sometimes to the other, just as the temptation has wrought. But a villainous affair it is, and will one day so blend and confound us altogether, that no one shall be able to stand up and swear, "That his own great grandfather was the man who did either this or that."
This evil had been sufficiently fenced against by the prudent care of the _Yorick's_ family, and their religious preservation of these records I quote, which do farther inform us, That the family was originally of _Danish_ extraction, and had been transplanted into _England_ as early as in the reign of _Horwendillus_, king of _Denmark_, in whose court, it seems, an ancestor of this Mr. _Yorick's_, and from whom he was lineally descended, held a considerable post to the day of his death. Of what nature this considerable post was, this record saith not; --It only adds, That, for near two centuries, it had been totally abolished, as altogether unnecessary, not only in that court, but in every other court of the Christian world.
It has often come into my head, that this post could be no other than that of the king's chief Jester; --and that _Hamlet's Yorick_, in our _Shakespeare_, many of whose plays, you know, are founded upon authenticated facts, was certainly the very man.
I have not the time to look into _Saxo-Grammaticus's Danish_ history, to know the certainty of this; --but if you have leisure, and can easily get at the book, you may do it full as well yourself.
I had just time, in my travels through _Denmark_ with Mr. _Noddy's_ eldest son, whom, in the year 1741, I accompanied as governor, riding along with him at a prodigious rate thro' most parts of _Europe_, and of which original journey performed by us two, a most delectable narrative will be given in the progress of this work; I had just time, I say, and that was all, to prove the truth of an observation made by a long sojourner in that country; ----namely, "That nature was neither very lavish, nor was she very stingy in her gifts of genius and capacity to its inhabitants; --but, like a discreet parent, was moderately kind to them all; observing such an equal tenor in the distribution of her favours, as to bring them, in those points, pretty near to a level with each other; so that you will meet with few instances in that kingdom of refined parts; but a great deal of good plain household understanding amongst all ranks of people, of which everybody has a share;" which is, I think, very right.
With us, you see, the case is quite different: --we are all ups and downs in this matter; --you are a great genius; --or 'tis fifty to one, Sir, you are a great dunce and a blockhead; --not that there is a total want of intermediate steps, --no, --we are not so irregular as that comes to; --but the two extremes are more common, and in a greater degree in this unsettled island, where nature, in her gifts and dispositions of this kind, is most whimsical and capricious; fortune herself not being more so in the bequest of her goods and chattels than she.
This is all that ever staggered my faith in regard to _Yorick's_ extraction, who, by what I can remember of him, and by all the accounts I could ever get of him, seemed not to have had one single drop of _Danish_ blood in his whole crasis; in nine hundred years, it might possibly have all run out: ----I will not philosophize one moment with you about it; for happen how it would, the fact was this: --That instead of that cold phlegm and exact regularity of sense and humours, you would have looked for, in one so extracted; --he was, on the contrary, as mercurial and sublimated a composition, --as heteroclite a creature in all his declensions; --with as much life and whim, and _gait de cur_ about him, as the kindliest climate could have engendered and put together. With all this sail, poor _Yorick_ carried not one ounce of ballast; he was utterly unpractised in the world; and, at the age of twenty-six, knew just about as well how to steer his course in it, as a romping, unsuspicious girl of thirteen: So that upon his first setting out, the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran him foul ten times in a day of somebody's tackling; and as the grave and more slow-paced were oftenest in his way, ----you may likewise imagine, 'twas with such he had generally the ill luck to get the most entangled. For aught I know there might be some mixture of unlucky wit at the bottom of such _Fracas_: ----For, to speak the truth, _Yorick_ had an invincible dislike and opposition in his nature to gravity; --not to gravity as such; --for where gravity was wanted, he would be the most grave or serious of mortal men for days and weeks together; --but he was an enemy to the affectation of it, and declared open war against it, only as it appeared a cloak for ignorance, or for folly: and then, whenever it fell in his way, however sheltered and protected, he seldom gave it much quarter.
Sometimes, in his wild way of talking, he would say that Gravity was an errant scoundrel, and he would add, --of the most dangerous kind too, --because a sly one; and that he verily believed, more honest, well-meaning people were bubbled out of their goods and money by it in one twelve-month, than by pocket-picking and shop-lifting in seven. In the naked temper which a merry heart discovered, he would say, there was no danger, --but to itself: --whereas the very essence of gravity was design, and consequently deceit; --'twas a taught trick to gain credit of the world for more sense and knowledge than a man was worth; and that, with all its pretensions, --it was no better, but often worse, than what a _French_ wit had long ago defined it, --_viz._ _A mysterious carriage of the body to cover the defects of the mind_; --which definition of gravity, _Yorick_, with great imprudence, would say, deserved to be wrote in letters of gold.
But, in plain truth, he was a man unhackneyed and unpractised in the world, and was altogether as indiscreet and foolish on every other subject of discourse where policy is wont to impress restraint. _Yorick_ had no impression but one, and that was what arose from the nature of the deed spoken of; which impression he would usually translate into plain _English_ without any periphrasis; --and too oft without much distinction of either person, time, or place; --so that when mention was made of a pitiful or an ungenerous proceeding----he never gave himself a moment's time to reflect who was the hero of the piece, ----what his station, ----or how far he had power to hurt him hereafter; ----but if it was a dirty action, --without more ado, --The man was a dirty fellow, --and so on. --And as his comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated either in a _bon mot_, or to be enlivened throughout with some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings to _Yorick's_ indiscretion. In a word, tho' he never sought, yet, at the same time, as he seldom shunned occasions of saying what came uppermost, and without much ceremony; ----he had but too many temptations in life, of scattering his wit and his humour, --his gibes and his jests about him. ----They were not lost for want of gathering.
What were the consequences, and what was _Yorick's_ catastrophe thereupon, you will read in the next chapter.

Yorick was this parson's name, and, what is very remarkable (as appears from an ancient account of the family, wrote upon strong vellum, and in perfect preservation) it had been spelt exactly so for near - I almost said nine hundred years; but I would not risk my credit in telling an improbable truth, however indisputable; - and therefore I shall only say - it had been exactly so spelt for I do not know how long; which is more than I would venture to say of half of the best surnames in the kingdom, which, through the years, have generally undergone as many chops and changes as their owners. A villainous affair it is, that no one can stand up and swear, 'That his own great grandfather was the man who did this or that.'
This evil had been fenced against by the prudent care of Yorick's family, and their religious preservation of these records, which farther inform us that the family was originally of Danish extraction, and had come to England in the reign of Horwendillus, king of Denmark, in whose court, it seems, an ancestor of Mr. Yorick's held an important post. Of what nature this post was, this record says not. It only adds that for two centuries, it had been totally abolished, as unnecessary in every court of the Christian world.
It has often come into my head, that this post could be no other than that of the king's Jester; and that Hamlet's Yorick, in our Shakespeare, many of whose plays, you know, are founded upon facts, was certainly the very man.
I have not the time to look into Saxo-Grammaticus's Danish history, to be certain of this; but if you have leisure, and can easily get at the book, you may do it as well yourself.
In my travels through Denmark with Mr. Noddy's eldest son, whom, in 1741, I accompanied as tutor, riding with him at a prodigious rate through Europe, and of which journey a most delectable narrative will be given in the progress of this work - in my travels I proved the truth of an observation made by one who had stayed long in Denmark; namely, 'That nature was neither lavish not stingy in her gifts of genius to its inhabitants; but, like a discreet parent, was moderately kind to them all; distributing her favours so equally as to bring them pretty level with each other; so that you will meet with few instances of refinement in that kingdom; but a great deal of good plain household understanding amongst all ranks of people;' which is, I think, very right.
With us, you see, the case is quite different: - we are all ups and downs; you are a great genius; - or 'tis fifty to one, Sir, you are a great dunce and a blockhead. Not that there is a total lack of steps in between; - but the two extremes are more common in this unsettled island, where nature is whimsical and capricious in her gifts.
This is all that shook my faith in regard to Yorick's ancestry - for he seemed not to have one single drop of phlegmatic blood in his body; in nine hundred years, it might have all run out. Instead of that cold phlegm and sense you would have looked for in one of Danish extraction, he was, on the contrary, mercurial, with as much life and whim and gaiety as the kindliest climate could have engendered.
With all this sail, poor Yorick carried not one ounce of ballast; he was utterly unpractised in the world; and, at the age of twenty-six, knew as much about it as a romping, unsuspicious girl of thirteen. So the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran him foul of somebody ten times in a day; and as the grave and more slow-paced were oftenest in his way, 'twas with such he had generally the ill luck to get the most entangled.
To speak the truth, Yorick had an invincible dislike and opposition to gravity - not to gravity as such, for where gravity was needed, he would be the most grave of men - but he hated the affectation of it, and declared open war against it when it was a cloak for ignorance or folly.
Sometimes, in his wild way of talking, he would say that Gravity was a sly and dangerous scoundrel; and that more honest people were bubbled out of their goods and money by it in one year, than by pocket-picking and shop-lifting in seven. He would say, there was no danger in merriment: whereas the very essence of gravity was deceit; 'twas a trick to gain credit for more sense and knowledge than a man was worth. A French wit called gravity 'A mysterious carriage of the body to cover the defects of the mind'; which, Yorick would say, deserved to be wrote in letters of gold.
But, in truth, he was a man unpractised in the world, and was altogether as indiscreet and foolish on every subject. Yorick would express himself bluntly, without considering either person, time, or place; so that if mention was made of an ungenerous proceeding, he never gave himself time to reflect who was the hero of the piece, what his position was, or how far the man had power to hurt him hereafter; - but if it was a dirty action, he called the man a dirty fellow - and so on.
As his comments were usually enlivened with humour, it gave wings to Yorick's indiscretion. Although he never sought occasions for speaking out, he had too many temptations of scattering his wit and his jests. They were not lost on his audience.
What were the consequences, and what was Yorick's catastrophe thereupon, you will read in the next chapter.


Stay ----I have a small account to settle with the reader before _Trim_ can go on with his harangue. --It shall be done in two minutes.
Amongst many other book-debts, all of which I shall discharge in due time, --I own myself a debtor to the world for two items, --a chapter upon _chamber-maids and button-holes_, which, in the former part of my work, I promised and fully intended to pay off this year: but some of your worships and reverences telling me, that the two subjects, especially so connected together, might endanger the morals of the world, --I pray the chapter upon chamber-maids and button-holes may be forgiven me, --and that they will accept of the last chapter in lieu of it; which is nothing, an't please your reverences, but a chapter of _chamber-maids, green gowns, and old hats_.
_Trim_ took his off the ground, --put it upon his head, --and then went on with his oration upon death, in manner and form following.

Stay - I have a small account to settle with the reader before Trim can go on with his speech. It shall be done in two minutes.
Amongst many other book-debts, I owe the world a chapter upon chamber-maids and button-holes, which I promised earlier: but since some of your worships tell me that these two subjects, especially connected, might endanger the world's morals, - I pray that the chapter upon chamber-maids and button-holes may be forgiven me, and that they will accept the last chapter instead; which is nothing but a chapter of chamber-maids, green gowns, and old hats.
Trim took his hat off the ground, put it upon his head, and then went on with his oration upon death.


Albeit, gentle reader, I have lusted earnestly, and endeavoured carefully (according to the measure of such a slender skill as God has vouchsafed me, and as convenient leisure from other occasions of needful profit and healthful pastime have permitted) that these little books which I here put into thy hands, might stand instead of many bigger books--yet have I carried myself towards thee in such fanciful guise of careless disport, that right sore am I ashamed now to intreat thy lenity seriously------in beseeching thee to believe it of me, that in the story of my father and his christian-names --I have no thoughts of treading upon _Francis_ the First----nor in the affair of the nose--upon _Francis_ the Ninth--nor in the character of my uncle _Toby_----of characterizing the militiating spirits of my country--the wound upon his groin, is a wound to every comparison of that kind--nor by _Trim_--that I meant the duke of _Ormond_----or that my book is wrote against predestination, or free-will, or taxes --If 'tis wrote against any thing, ----'tis wrote, an' please your worships, against the spleen! in order, by a more frequent and a more convulsive elevation and depression of the diaphragm, and the succussations of the intercostal and abdominal muscles in laughter, to drive the _gall_ and other _bitter juices_ from the gallbladder, liver, and sweet-bread of his majesty's subjects, with all the inimicitious passions which belong to them, down into their duodenums.

Although, gentle reader, I have endeavoured carefully (with such slender skill as God has given me,) that these little books which I here put into thy hands, might stand instead of many bigger books - yet I have been so fanciful and careless, that I am ashamed, and assure thee that I have no thoughts of treading upon Francis the First. Nor, in the character of my uncle Toby, do I mean to characterize the military of my country - and by Trim, I do not mean the duke of Ormond - and if my book is wrote against free-will, or taxes, or any thing - 'tis wrote, your worships, against the spleen! - in order, by convulsive movements of the diaphragm, and the shaking of the abdominal muscles in laughter, to drive the gall and other bitter juices from the organs of his majesty's subjects, down into their duodenums.


My brother does it, quoth my uncle _Toby_, out of _principle_. ----In a family way, I suppose, quoth Dr. _Slop_. ----Pshaw! --said my father, --'tis not worth talking of.

'My brother does it,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'out of principle.'
'In a family way, I suppose,' quoth Dr. Slop.
'Pshaw!' said my father, ''tis not worth talking of.'


Whether _Susannah_, by taking her hand too suddenly from off the corporal's shoulder (by the whisking about of her passions)----broke a little the chain of his reflexions----
Or whether the corporal began to be suspicious, he had got into the doctor's quarters, and was talking more like the chaplain than himself------
Or whether - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Or whether----for in all such cases a man of invention and parts may with pleasure fill a couple of pages with suppositions----which of all these was the cause, let the curious physiologist, or the curious anybody determine----'tis certain, at least, the corporal went on thus with his harangue.
For my own part, I declare it, that out of doors, I value not death at all: --not this ... added the corporal, snapping his fingers, --but with an air which no one but the corporal could have given to the sentiment. --In battle, I value death not this . . . and let him not take me cowardly, like poor _Joe Gibbins_, in scouring his gun --What is he? A pull of a trigger--a push of a bayonet an inch this way or that--makes the difference. --Look along the line--to the right--see! _Jack's_ down! well, --'tis worth a regiment of horse to him. --No--'tis _Dick_. Then _Jack's_ no worse. --Never mind which, --we pass on, --in hot pursuit the wound itself which brings him is not felt, --the best way is to stand up to him, --the man who flies, is in ten times more danger than the man who marches up into his jaws. --I've look'd him, added the corporal, an hundred times in the face, --and know what he is. --He's nothing, _Obadiah_, at all in the field. --But he's very frightful in a house, quoth _Obadiah_. ----I never mind it myself, said _Jonathan_, upon a coach-box. --It must, in my opinion, be most natural in bed, replied _Susannah_. --And could I escape him by creeping into the worst calf's skin that ever was made into a knapsack, I would do it there--said _Trim_--but that is nature.
----Nature is nature, said _Jonathan_. --And that is the reason, cried _Susannah_, I so much pity my mistress. --She will never get the better of it. --Now I pity the captain the most of any one in the family, answered _Trim_. ----Madam will get ease of heart in weeping, --and the Squire in talking about it, --but my poor master will keep it all in silence to himself, --I shall hear him sigh in his bed for a whole month together, as he did for lieutenant _Le Fever_. --An' please your honour, do not sigh so piteously, I would say to him as I laid besides him. I cannot help it, _Trim_, my master would say, ----'tis so melancholy an accident --I cannot get it off my heart. --Your honour fears not death yourself. --I hope, _Trim_, I fear nothing, he would say, but the doing a wrong thing. ----Well, he would add, whatever betides, I will take care of _Le Fever's_ boy. --And with that, like a quieting draught, his honour would fall asleep.
I like to hear _Trim's_ stories about the captain, said _Susannah_. --He is a kindly-hearted gentleman, said _Obadiah_, as ever lived. --Aye, and as brave a one too, said the corporal, as ever stept before a platoon. --There never was a better officer in the king's army, --or a better man in God's world; for he would march up to the mouth of a cannon, though he saw the lighted match at the very touch-hole, --and yet, for all that, he has a heart as soft as a child for other people. ----He would not hurt a chicken. ----I would sooner, quoth _Jonathan_, drive such a gentleman for seven pounds a year--than some for eight. --Thank thee, _Jonathan!_ for thy twenty shillings, --as much, _Jonathan_, said the corporal, shaking him by the hand, as if thou hadst put the money into my own pocket. ----I would serve him to the day of my death out of love. He is a friend and a brother to me, --and could I be sure my poor brother _Tom_ was dead, --continued the corporal, taking out his handkerchief, --was I worth ten thousand pounds, I would leave every shilling of it to the captain. ----_Trim_ could not refrain from tears at this testamentary proof he gave of his affection to his master. ----The whole kitchen was affected. --Do tell us the story of the poor lieutenant, said _Susannah_. ----With all my heart, answered the corporal.
_Susannah_, the cook, _Jonathan_, _Obadiah_, and corporal _Trim_, formed a circle about the fire; and as soon as the scullion had shut the kitchen door, --the corporal begun.

Whether Susannah, by taking her hand too suddenly off the corporal's shoulder, broke the chain of his reflections-
Or whether the corporal began to suspect he was talking more like the chaplain than himself-
Whatever the cause, he went on thus:
'For my own part, I declare that in battle, I do not care this for death.' He snapped his fingers. 'Let death not take me in a cowardly way, like poor Joe Gibbins, in cleaning his gun. A pull of a trigger - a push of a bayonet - look along the line - see! Jack's down! No - 'tis Dick. Then Jack's no worse. No matter which it is; we pass on. In hot pursuit the wound which brings death is not felt. The man who flees is in ten times more danger than the man who marches up into the jaws of death. I've looked him in the face a hundred times, and know what he is. He's nothing, Obadiah, on the battlefield.'
'But he's very frightful in a house,' quoth Obadiah.
'I never mind it in a coach-box,' said Jonathan.
'It must, in my opinion, be most natural in bed,' said Susannah.
'And if I could escape him there, I would,' said Trim, - 'but that is nature.'
'Nature is nature,' said Jonathan.
'And that is why,' cried Susannah, 'I so much pity my mistress. She will never get over it.'
'I pity the captain the most,' answered Trim. 'Madam will get ease of heart in weeping, and the Squire in talking about it, - but my poor master will keep it all in silence to himself. I shall hear him sigh in his bed for a whole month, as he did for lieutenant Le Fever. "Your honour, do not sigh so piteously," I would say. "I cannot help it, Trim," my master would reply, "'tis so sad, I cannot get it off my heart." "Your honour fears not death yourself." "I fear nothing, Trim," he would say, "but doing a wrong thing. Well, I will take care of Le Fever's boy." And with that, like a medicine, he would fall asleep.'
'I like to hear Trim's stories about the captain,' said Susannah.
'He is a kindly-hearted gentleman,' said Obadiah.
'Aye, and a brave one too,' said the corporal. 'There never was a better officer, or a better man: for he would march up to the cannon's mouth - and yet he has a heart as soft as a child for other people. He would not hurt a chicken.'
'I would sooner,' quoth Jonathan, 'drive such a gentleman for seven pounds a year, than some for eight.'
'Thank thee, Jonathan!' said the corporal, shaking his hand. 'I would serve him to the day of my death out of love. He is a friend and a brother to me, and if I was only sure my poor brother Tom was dead, and if I was worth ten thousand pounds, I would leave every shilling to the captain.' Trim could not refrain from tears at this idea. The whole kitchen was affected.
'Do tell us the story of the poor lieutenant,' said Susannah.
'With all my heart,' answered the corporal.
They formed a circle about the fire; and as soon as the scullery-maid had shut the door, the corporal began.


I am glad of it, said I, settling the account with myself, as I walk'd into _Lyons_----my chaise being all laid higgledy-piggledy with my baggage in a cart, which was moving slowly before me ----I am heartily glad, said I, that 'tis all broke to pieces; for now I can go directly by water to _Avignon_, which will carry me on a hundred and twenty miles of my journey, and not cost me seven livres----and from thence, continued I, bringing forwards the account, I can hire a couple of mules--or asses, if I like (for nobody knows me) and cross the plains of _Languedoc_ for almost nothing ----I shall gain four hundred livres by the misfortune clear into my purse: and pleasure! worth--worth double the money by it. With what velocity, continued I, clapping my two hands together, shall I fly down the rapid _Rhone_, with the VIVARES on my right hand, and DAUPHINY on my left, scarce seeing the ancient cities of VIENNE, _Valence_, and _Vivieres_. What a flame will it rekindle in the lamp, to snatch a blushing grape from the _Hermitage_ and _Cte roti_, as I shoot by the foot of them! and what a fresh spring in the blood! to behold upon the banks advancing and retiring, the castles of romance, whence courteous knights have whilome rescued the distress'd----and see vertiginous, the rocks, the mountains, the cataracts, and all the hurry which Nature is in with all her great works about her.
As I went on thus, methought my chaise, the wreck of which look'd stately enough at the first, insensibly grew less and less in its size; the freshness of the painting was no more--the gilding lost its lustre--and the whole affair appeared so poor in my eyes--so sorry! --so contemptible! and, in a word, so much worse than the abbess of _Andoillets'_ itself--that I was just opening my mouth to give it to the devil--when a pert vamping chaise-undertaker, stepping nimbly across the street, demanded if Monsieur would have his chaise refitted ----No, no, said I, shaking my head sideways --Would Monsieur chuse to sell it? rejoined the undertaker. --With all my soul, said I--the iron work is worth forty livres--and the glasses worth forty more--and the leather you may take to live on.
What a mine of wealth, quoth I, as he counted me the money, has this post-chaise brought me in? And this is my usual method of book-keeping, at least with the disasters of life--making a penny of every one of 'em as they happen to me----
----Do, my dear _Jenny_, tell the world for me, how I behaved under one, the most oppressive of its kind, which could befal me as a man, proud as he ought to be of his manhood----
'Tis enough, saidst thou, coming close up to me, as I stood with my garters in my hand, reflecting upon what had _not_ pass'd----'Tis enough, _Tristram_, and I am satisfied, saidst thou, whispering these words in my ear, **** ** **** *** ******; --**** ** **----any other man would have sunk down to the center----
----Everything is good for something, quoth I.
----I'll go into _Wales_ for six weeks, and drink goat's whey--and I'll gain seven years longer life for the accident. For which reason I think myself inexcusable, for blaming fortune so often as I have done, for pelting me all my life long, like an ungracious duchess, as I call'd her, with so many small evils: surely, if I have any cause to be angry with her, 'tis that she has not sent me great ones--a score of good cursed, bouncing losses, would have been as good as a pension to me.
----One of a hundred a year, or so, is all I wish --I would not be at the plague of paying land-tax for a larger.

'I am glad of it,' said I, as I walked into Lyons - my chaise being all laid higgledy-piggledy with my baggage in a cart, which was moving slowly before me -
'I am heartily glad,' said I, 'that 'tis all broke to pieces; for now I can go directly and cheaply by water to Avignon, which will carry me on a hundred and twenty miles of my journey, - and from thence, I can hire a couple of mules and cross the plains of Languedoc for almost nothing. I shall gain four hundred livres by the misfortune: and pleasure worth double the money. How fast I shall fly down the rapid Rhone, scarce seeing the ancient cities of Vienne, Valence, and Vivieres! I shall snatch a blushing grape from the Hermitage and Cte roti, as I shoot by them!
'And what a fresh spring in the blood! to behold upon the banks the castles of romance, where courteous knights have rescued the distressed, and to see the mountains, the cataracts, and Nature with all her great works about her.'
As I went on thus, methought my chaise grew gradually smaller; the freshness of the painting was no more - the gilding lost its lustre - and the whole thing appeared so sorry! so contemptible! - that I was just about to curse it to the devil - when a pert chaise-undertaker, stepping nimbly across the street, demanded if Monsieur would have his chaise refitted?
'No, no,' said I.
'Would Monsieur sell it?'
'With all my soul,' said I. 'The iron work is worth forty livres - and the windows forty more.'
What wealth this post-chaise brought me! This is my usual method of book-keeping - making a penny of every disaster that happens to me-
Do, my dear Jenny, tell the world how I behaved under the most oppressive disaster which could befall me as a man proud of his manhood-
''Tis enough,' saidst thou to me, as I stood with my garters in my hand, reflecting upon what had not happened. ''Tis enough, Tristram, and I am satisfied,' thou saidst, whispering in my ear: '**** ** **** *** ******; **** ** **.' - Any other man would have sunk down to the centre.
'Everything is good for something,' quoth I.
So I should not blame fortune so often as I have done, for pelting me all my life with so many small evils: surely, I should be angry that fortune has not sent me great ones. A score of good cursed, bouncing losses, would have been as good as a pension to me.


We are ruin'd and undone, my child, said the abbess to _Margarita_, ----we shall be here all night----we shall be plunder'd----we shall be ravish'd----
----We shall be ravish'd, said _Margarita_, as sure as a gun.
_Sancta Maria!_ cried the abbess (forgetting the _O!_)--why was I govern'd by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of _Andoillets?_ and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb?
O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word _servant_--why was I not content to put it here, or there, any where rather than be in this strait?
Strait! said the abbess.
Strait----said the novice; for terror had struck their understandings---- the one knew not what she said----the other what she answer'd.
O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess.
----inity! ----inity! said the novice, sobbing.

'We are ruined and undone, my child,' said the abbess to Margarita; 'we shall be here all night - we shall be plundered and ravished-'
'We shall be ravished,' said Margarita, 'as sure as a gun.'
'Sancta Maria!' cried the abbess, 'why was I governed by this knee? why did I leave the convent? why didst thou not let thy servant die unpolluted?'
'O!' cried the novice, 'I would rather be anywhere than in this strait!'
'O my virginity! virginity!' cried the abbess.
'-inity! -inity!' said the novice, sobbing.


----But 'tis no marvel, continued the corporal--seeing my uncle _Toby_ musing upon it--for Love, an' please your honour, is exactly like war, in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete o' _Saturday_ night, --may nevertheless be shot through his heart on _Sunday_ morning----_It happened so here_, an' please your honour, with this difference only--that it was on _Sunday_ in the afternoon, when I fell in love all at once with a sisserara ----It burst upon me, an' please your honour, like a bomb----scarce giving me time to say, "God bless me."
I thought, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, a man never fell in love so very suddenly.
Yes, an' please your honour, if he is in the way of it----replied _Trim_.
I prithee, quoth my uncle _Toby_, inform me how this matter happened.
----With all pleasure, said the corporal, making a bow.

'But 'tis no marvel,' continued the corporal, seeing my uncle Toby musing - 'for Love, your honour, is exactly like war, in this; that a soldier, even though he has escaped three weeks by Saturday night, may nevertheless be shot through his heart on Sunday morning. It happened so here, only it was on Sunday afternoon when I fell in love all at once - it burst upon me, your honour, like a bomb - scarce giving me time to say, "God bless me."'
'I thought,' said my uncle, 'a man never fell in love so suddenly. I prithee, tell me how this happened.'
'With pleasure,' said the corporal, bowing.