DID ever man, brother _Toby_, cried my father, raising himself upon his
elbow, and turning himself round to the opposite side of the bed, where
my uncle _Toby_ was sitting in his old fringed chair, with his chin
resting upon his crutch——did ever a poor unfortunate man, brother
_Toby_, cried my father, receive so many lashes?——The most I ever saw
given, quoth my uncle _Toby_ (ringing the bell at the bed’s head for
_Trim_) was to a grenadier, I think in _Mackay_’s regiment.
——Had my uncle _Toby_ shot a bullet through my father’s heart, he could
not have fallen down with his nose upon the quilt more suddenly.
Bless me! said my uncle _Toby_.