their levels, an angel of mercy sat beside him on the sofa, his heart glowed with fire; and had he been worth a thousand, he had lost every heart of them to Mrs. Wadman. And whereabouts, dear Sir, quoth Mrs. Wadman, a little categorically, did you receive this sad blow? In asking this question, Mrs. Wadman gave a slight glance towards the waistband of my uncle Toby's red plush breeches, expecting naturally, as the shortest reply to it, that my uncle Toby would lay his fore-finger upon the place. It fell out otherwise, for my uncle Toby having got his wound before the gate of St. Nicholas, in one of the traverses of the trench opposite to the salient angle of the demi-bastion of St. Roch, he could at any time stick a pin upon the identical spot of ground where he was standing when the stone struck him. This struck instantly upon my uncle Toby's sensorium; and with it, struck his large map of the town and citadel of Namur, and its environs, which he had purchased and pasted down upon a board, by the corporal's aid, through his long illness: it had lain, with other military lumber, in the garret ever since; and accordingly the corporal was detached to the garret to fetch it. My uncle Toby measured off thirty toises, with Mrs. Wadman's scissors, from the returning angle before the gate of St. Nicholas; and with such a virgin modesty laid her finger upon the place, that the Goddess of Decency, if then in being -if not, 't was her shade shook her head, and with a finger wavering across her eyes, forbade her to explain the mistake. Unhappy Mrs. Wadman! For nothing can make this chapter go off with spirit but an apostrophe to thee: but my heart tells me, that in such a crisis an apostrophe is but an insult in disguise; and ere I would offer one to a woman in distress, let the chapter go to the Devil; provided any damned critic in keeping will be but at the trouble to take it with him. CHAPTER LXIII. AND here is the Maes, and this is the Sambre, said the corporal, pointing with his right hand extended a little towards the map, and his left upon Mrs. Bridget's shoulder, but not the shoulder next him; and this, said he, is the town of Namur, and this the citadel, and there lay the French, and here lay his honor and myself; and in this cursed trench, Mrs. Bridget, quoth the corporal, taking her by the hand, did he receive the wound which crushed him so miserably here. In pronouncing which, he slightly pressed the back of her hand towards the part he felt for, and let it fall. We thought, Mr. Trim, it had been more in the middle, said Mrs. Bridget. That would have undone us for ever, said the corporal. And left my poor mistress undone too, said Bridget. The corporal made no reply to the repartee, but by giving Mrs. Bridget a kiss. Come, come, said Bridget, holding the palm of her left hand parallel to the plane of the horizon, and sliding the fingers of the other over it, in a way which could not have been done had there been the least wart or protuberance -'t is every syllable I know it to be a fact, said Bridget, Upon my honor, said the corporal, laying his hand upon his heart, and blushing as he spoke, with honest resentment, 't is a story, Mrs. Bridget, as false as hell. Not, said Bridget, interrupting him, that about it, whether it is so or no; only that either I or my mistress care a half-penny when one is married, one would choose to have such a thing by one at least It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs. Bridget, that she had begun the attack * * * * * CHAPTER LXII. My uncle Toby's map is carried down into the kitchen. CHAPTER LXIV. IT was like the momentary contest in the moist eyelids of an April morning, "Whether Bridget should laugh or cry.' She snatched up a rolling-pin-'t was ten to one she had laughed. She laid it down-she cried: and had one single tear of 'em but tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the corporal's heart have been that he had used the argument; but the corporal understood the sex, a quart major to a terce at least, better than my uncle Toby, and accordingly he assailed Mrs. Bridget after this manner: I know, Mrs. Bridget, said the corporal, giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou art good and modest by nature; and art withal so generous a girl in thyself, that, if I know thee rightly, thou wouldst not wound an insect, much less the honor of so gallant and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou sure to be made a countess of; but thou hast been set on, and deluded, dear Bridget, as is often a woman's case, "to please others more than themselves." Bridget's eyes poured down at the sensations the corporal excited. Tell me, tell me, then, my dear Bridget, continued the corporal, taking hold of her hand, which hung down dead by her side, and giving her a second kiss, whose suspicion has misled thee? Bridget sobbed a sob or two, then opened her eyes; the corporal wiped 'em with the bottom of her apron; she then opened her heart and told him all. CHAPTER LXV. 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 communi cate. The corporal, on his side, in taking Bridget, by it gained considerable advantages and consequently had much to communicate; but what were the advantages, as well as what was the manner by which he had seized 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 bare-headed and without laurels forever, than torture his master's modesty for a single moment. Best of honest and gallant servants! But I have apostrophized 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. CHAPTER LXVI. Now my uncle Toby had one evening laid down his pipe upon the table, and was counting over to himself, upon his fingers' ends (beginning at his thumb), all Mrs. Wadman's perfections, one by one; and happening two or three times together, either by omitting some, or counting others twice over, to puzzle himself sadly before he could get beyond his middle-finger, Prithee, Trim, said he, taking up his pipe again, bring me a pen and ink. Trim brought paper also. Take a full sheet, Trim! said my uncle Toby, making a sign with his pipe at the same time to take a chair and sit down close by him at the table. The corporal obeyed, placed the paper directly before him, took a pen, and dipped it in the ink. She has a thousand virtues, Trim! said my uncle Toby. Am I to set them down, an' please your Honor? quoth the corporal. But they must be taken in their ranks, replied my uncle Toby; for of them all, Trim, that which wins the most, and which is a security for all the rest, is the compassionate turn and singular humanity of her character. I protest, added my uncle Toby, looking up, as he protested it, towards the top of the ceiling, that was I her brother, Trim, a thousand-fold, she could not make more constant or more tender inquiries after my sufferings, though now no more. The corporal made no reply to my uncle Toby's protestation, but by a short cough: he dipped the pen a second time into the inkhorn; and my uncle Toby, pointing with the end of his pipe as close to the top of the sheet at the left-hand corner of it as he could get it, the corpo ral wrote down the word HUMANITY thus. Prithee, corporal, said my uncle Toby, as soon as Trim had done it, how often does Mrs. Bridget inquire after the wound on the cap of thy knee, which thou receivedst at the battle of Landen? She never, an' please your Honor, inquires after it at all. That, corporal, said my uncle Toby, with all the triumph the goodness of his nature would permit, that shows the difference in the character of the mistress and maid. Had the fortune of war allotted the same mischance to me, Mrs. Wadman would have inquired into every circumstance relating to it a hundred times. She would have inquired, an' please your Honor, ten times as often about your Honor's groin. The pain, Trim, is equally excruciating, and Compassion has as much to do with the one as the other. God bless your Honor, cried the corporal, what has a woman's compassion to do with the wound upon the cap of a man's knee? Had your Honor's been shot into ten thousand splinters at the affair of Landen, Mrs. Wadman would have troubled her head as little about it as Bridget; because, added the corporal, lowering his voice, and speaking very distinctly, as he assigned his reason, "The knee is such a distance from the main body. Whereas the groin, your Honor knows, is upon the very curtain." My uncle Toby gave a long whistle; but in a note which could scarce be heard across the table. The corporal had advanced too far to retire; in three words he told the rest. My uncle Toby laid down his pipe as gently upon the fender as if it had been spun from the unravelling of a spider's web. Let us go to my brother Shandy's, said he. happily delivered of both to Susannah, behind the garden-wall. As for my mother, she saw nothing at all in it, to make the least bustle about; but Susannah was sufficient by herself for all the ends and purposes you could possibly have, in exporting a family secret; for she instantly imparted it by signs to Jonathan; and Jonathan by tokens to the cook, as she was basting a loin of mutton; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat; who trucked it with the dairy-maid for something of about the same value; and though whispered in the hay-loft, Fame caught the notes with her brazen trumpet, and sounded them upon the housetop. In a word, not an old woman in the village, or five miles around, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle Toby's siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender. My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means, never man crucified Truth at the rate he did, had but just heard of the report as my uncle Toby set out; and catching fire suddenly at the trespass done his brother by it, was demonstrating to Yorick, notwithstanding my mother was sitting by, not only "That the Devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was ," but that every evil and disorder in the world, of what kind or nature soever, from the first fall of Adam, down to my uncle Toby's (inclusive), was owing, one way or other, to the same unruly appetite. Yorick was just bringing my father's hypothesis to some temper, when my uncle Toby entered the room with marks of infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, seated himself by the fire, and filled his pipe. CHAPTER LXVII. THERE will be just time, whilst my uncle Toby and Trim are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. Wadman had, some moons before this, made a confidant of my mother; and that Mrs. Bridget, who had the burden of her own, as well as her mistress's secret to carry, had got A REVEREND gentleman once being at the house of a fellow clergyman, who showed him a library in many languages, asked whether he understood them all? The answer being in the affirmative, he rejoined," Then verily, brother, you must have had your head broken with a brick from the tower of Babel." MONSIEUR TONSON. THERE lived, as fame reports, in days of yore, At least some fifty years ago, or more, A pleasant wight on Town, yclept Tom A fellow that was clever at a joke, To many a jovial club this King was known, Would crowd his stories and bon mots to hear, To him a frolic was a high delight: frown. If e'er a pleasant mischief sprang to view, At once o'er hedge and ditch away he flew, Nor left the game, till he had run it down. One night, our hero, rambling with a friend, Near famed St. Giles's chanced his course to bend, Just by that spot, the Seven Dials hight. 'T was silence all around, and clear the coast, The watch, as usual, dozing on his post, And scarce a lamp displayed a twinkling light. Around this place, there lived the numerous clans Of honest, plodding, foreign artizans, Known at that time by name of refugees. The rod of persecution, from their home, Compelled the inoffensive race to roam, And here they lighted, like a swarm of bees. call, He knocked-but waited longer than before; | Thus urged, she went the snoring man to found. And long, indeed, was she obliged to bawl, Ere she could rouse the torpid lump of clay. At last he wakes; he rises; and he swears: But scarcely had he tottered down the stairs, When King attacked him in his usual way. The Frenchman now perceived 't was all in vain To his tormentor mildly to complain, And straight in rage began his crest to |