my right hand, and one on my left, for calling Helena a bitch for it ? Did any one of you fhed more tears for Hector? And when king Priam came to the camp to beg his body, and returned weeping back to Troy without it, you know, brother, I could not eat my dinner.

-Did that befpeak me cruel? Or because, brother Shandy, my blood flew out into the camp, and my heart panted for war, was it a proof it could not ach for the diftreffes of war too?

O brother! 'tis one thing for a foldier to gather laurels, and 'tis another to fcatter cypress.

-'Tis one thing, brother Shandy, for a foldier to hazard his own life-to leap first down into the trench, where he is fure to be cut in pieces:-'Tis one thing, from public fpirit and a thirft of glory, to enter the breach the first man,-to stand in the foremost rank, and march bravely on with drums and trumpets, and colours flying about his ears :-'tis one thing, I fay, brother Shandy, to do this ;-and 'tis another thing to reflect on the miseries of war,-to view the defolations of whole countries, and confider the intolerable fatigues and hardships which the foldier himself, the inftrument who works them, is forced (for fix-pence a-day, if he can get it) to undergo.

Need I be told, dear Yorick, as I was by you, in Le Fevre's funeral fermon, That fo foft and gentle a creature, born to love mercy and kindness, as man is, was not fhaped for this? But why did you not add, Yorick, -if not by NATURE, that he is fo by NECESSITY?

-For what is war? what is it, Yorick, when fought as ours has been, upon principles of Liberty, and upon principles of Honour-what is it, but the getting together of quiet and harmless people, with their swords in their hands, to keep the ambitious and the turbulent within bounds! And Heaven is my witness, brother Shandy, that the pleasure I have taken in these things, —and that infinite delight, in particular, which has attended my fieges in my bowling-green, has rofe within me, and I hope in the Corporal too, from the consciousness we both had, that in carrying them on, we were answering the great end of our creation.

T. SHANDY, VOL. III. CHAP. 75.

MERC Y.

My uncle Toby was a man patient of injuries;

not from want of courage,-where just occafions prefented, or called it forth,-I know no man under whofe arm I would fooner have taken shelter ;nor did this arise from any infenfibility or obtufeness of his intellectual parts;-he was of a peaceful, placid nature, no jarring element in it,—all was mixed up fo kindly with him; my uncle Toby had fcarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly-Go,-fays he one day at dinner, to an overgrown one which had buzzed about his nofe, and tormented him cruelly all dinner time,

--and

and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at laft as it flew by him ;-I'll not hurt thee, fays my uncle Toby, rifing from his chair, and going acrofs the room, with the fly in his hand,-I'll not hurt a hair of thy head:-Go, fays he, lifting up the fash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escape ;-go, poor devil-get thee gone; why fhould I hurt thee?— This world furely is wide enough to hold thee and me. This is to ferve for parents and governors, in

ftead of a whole volume upon the subject.

T. SHANDY, VOL. I. CHAP. 37.

INDOLENCE.

NCONSISTENT foul that man is!-languishing

INCON

under wounds which he has the power to heal!— his whole life a contradiction to his knowledge !—his reason, that precious gift of God to him-(instead of pouring in oil) ferving but to fharpen his fenfibilities,to multiply his pains, and render him more melancholy and uneafy under them!-Poor unhappy creature, that he should do fo!-are not the neceffary caufes of mifery in this life enow, but he must add voluntary ones to his flock of forrow;-ftruggle against evils which cannot be avoided, and submit to others, which a tenth part of the trouble they create him, would remove from his heart for ever?

T. SHANDY, VOL. II, CHAP. 14.

CONSOLATION.

EFORE an affliction is digefted,-consolation ever

comes too foon;-and after it is digested—it comes too late: there is but a mark between these two, as fine almoft as a hair, for a comforter to take aim at. T. SHANDY, VOL. II. CHAP. 22.

-BESHREW the fombre pencil! faid I vaunt

ingly for I envy not its powers, which

paints the evils of life with fo hard and deadly a cofouring. The mind fits terrified at the objects she has magnified herself, and blackened; reduce them to their proper fize and hue, fhe overlooks them.-'Tis true, faid I, correcting the propofition-the Bastille is not an evil to be despised-but strip it of its towers fill up the foe-unbarricade the doors-call it fimply a confinement, and fuppofe 'tis fome tyrant of a diftemper-and not of a man which holds you in it-the evil vanishes, and you bear the other half without complaint.

I was interrupted in the hey-day of this foliloquy, with a voice which I took to be of a child which

and down the paffage, and feeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without further attention.

In my return back through the passage, I heard the fame words repeated twice over; and looking up, I faw it was a starling hung in a little cage-"I can't get out I can't get out," said the starling.

I ftood looking at the bird: and to every perfon who came through the paffage it ran fluttering to the fide towards which they approached it, with the fame lamentation of its captivity" I can't get out," faid the ftarling-God help thee! faid I, but I will let thee out, coft what it will; fo I turned about the cage to get the door; it was twisted and double twisted fo faft with wire, there was no getting it open, without pulling it to pieces-I took both hands to it.

The bird flew to the place where I was attempting his deliverance, and thrufting his head through the trellis, pressed his breast against t, as if impatientI fear, poor creature! faid I, I annot fet thee at liberty -"No," said the starling-" I can't get out-I can't get out," faid the starling.

I vow I never had my affections more tenderly awakened: nor do I remember an incident in my life, where the diffipated fpirits, to which my reafon had been a bubble, were fo fuddenly called home. Mechanical as the notes were, yet so true in tune tò nature were they chanted, that in one moment they overthrew all my fyftematic reasonings upon the Baftille; and I heavily walked up stairs, unfaying every word I had faid in going down them,