YOUR honour, said _Trim_, shutting the parlour-door before he began to
speak, has heard, I imagine, of this unlucky accident——O yes, _Trim_,
said my uncle _Toby_, and it gives me great concern.—I am heartily
concerned too, but I hope your honour, replied _Trim_, will do me the
justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to me.——To
thee—_Trim?_—cried my uncle _Toby_, looking kindly in his face——’twas
_Susannah_’s and the curate’s folly betwixt them.——What business could
they have together, an’ please your honour, in the garden?——In the
gallery thou meanest, replied my uncle _Toby_.
Trim found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short with a low
bow——Two misfortunes, quoth the corporal to himself, are twice as many
at least as are needful to be talked over at one time;——the mischief
the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be told his
honour hereafter.——_Trim_’s casuistry and address, under the cover of
his low bow, prevented all suspicion in my uncle _Toby_, so he went on
with what he had to say to _Trim_ as follows:
——For my own part, _Trim_, though I can see little or no difference
betwixt my nephew’s being called _Tristram_ or _Trismegistus_—yet as
the thing sits so near my brother’s heart, _Trim_——I would freely have
given a hundred pounds rather than it should have happened.——A hundred
pounds, an’ please your honour! replied _Trim_,—I would not give a
cherry-stone to boot.——Nor would I, _Trim_, upon my own account, quoth
my uncle _Toby_——but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this
case—maintains that a great deal more depends, _Trim_, upon
christian-names, than what ignorant people imagine——for he says there
never was a great or heroic action performed since the world began by
one called _Tristram_—nay, he will have it, _Trim_, that a man can
neither be learned, or wise, or brave.——’Tis all fancy, an’ please your
honour—I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment
called me _Trim_, as when they called me _James Butler._——And for my
own part, said my uncle _Toby_, though I should blush to boast of
myself, _Trim_——yet had my name been _Alexander_, I could have done no
more at _Namur_ than my duty.—Bless your honour! cried _Trim_,
advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his
christian-name when he goes upon the attack?——Or when he stands in the
trench, _Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby_, looking firm.——Or when he enters
a breach? said _Trim_, pushing in between two chairs.——Or forces the
lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a
pike.——Or facing a platoon? cried _Trim_, presenting his stick like a
firelock.——Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle _Toby_,
looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.——