WHEN _Trim_ came in and told my father, that Dr. _Slop_ was in the
kitchen, and busy in making a bridge—my uncle _Toby_——the affair of the
jack-boots having just then raised a train of military ideas in his
brain——took it instantly for granted that Dr. _Slop_ was making a model
of the marquis _d’Hôpital_ ’s bridge.——’tis very obliging in him, quoth
my uncle _Toby_;—pray give my humble service to Dr. _Slop_, _Trim_, and
tell him I thank him heartily.
Had my uncle _Toby_’s head been a _Savoyard_ ’s box, and my father
peeping in all the time at one end of it——it could not have given him a
more distinct conception of the operations of my uncle _Toby_’s
imagination, than what he had; so, notwithstanding the catapulta and
battering-ram, and his bitter imprecation about them, he was just
beginning to triumph——
When _Trim_’s answer, in an instant, tore the laurel from his brows,
and twisted it to pieces.