IT was some time in the summer of that year in which _Dendermond_ was
taken by the allies,—which was about seven years before my father came
into the country,—and about as many, after the time, that my uncle
_Toby_ and _Trim_ had privately decamped from my father’s house in
town, in order to lay some of the finest sieges to some of the finest
fortified cities in _Europe_——when my uncle _Toby_ was one evening
getting his supper, with _Trim_ sitting behind him at a small
sideboard,—I say, sitting—for in consideration of the corporal’s lame
knee (which sometimes gave him exquisite pain)—when my uncle _Toby_
dined or supped alone, he would never suffer the corporal to stand; and
the poor fellow’s veneration for his master was such, that, with a
proper artillery, my uncle _Toby_ could have taken _Dendermond_ itself,
with less trouble than he was able to gain this point over him; for
many a time when my uncle _Toby_ supposed the corporal’s leg was at
rest, he would look back, and detect him standing behind him with the
most dutiful respect: this bred more little squabbles betwixt them,
than all other causes for five-and-twenty years together—But this is
neither here nor there—why do I mention it?——Ask my pen,—it governs
me,—I govern not it.
He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the landlord of a
little inn in the village came into the parlour, with an empty phial in
his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack; ’Tis for a poor gentleman,—I
think, of the army, said the landlord, who has been taken ill at my
house four days ago, and has never held up his head since, or had a
desire to taste any thing, till just now, that he has a fancy for a
glass of sack and a thin toast,——_I think_, says he, taking his hand
from his forehead, _it would comfort me._——
——If I could neither beg, borrow, or buy such a thing—added the
landlord,—I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so
ill.——I hope in God he will still mend, continued he,—we are all of us
concerned for him.
Thou art a good-natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried my uncle
_Toby;_ and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman’s health in a glass of
sack thyself,—and take a couple of bottles with my service, and tell
him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do
him good.
Though I am persuaded, said my uncle _Toby_, as the landlord shut the
door, he is a very compassionate fellow—_Trim_,—yet I cannot help
entertaining a high opinion of his guest too; there must be something
more than common in him, that in so short a time should win so much
upon the affections of his host;——And of his whole family, added the
corporal, for they are all concerned for him.——Step after him, said my
uncle _Toby_,—do _Trim_,—and ask if he knows his name.
——I have quite forgot it truly, said the landlord, coming back into the
parlour with the corporal,—but I can ask his son again:——Has he a son
with him then? said my uncle _Toby._—A boy, replied the landlord, of
about eleven or twelve years of age;—but the poor creature has tasted
almost as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament
for him night and day:——He has not stirred from the bed-side these two
days.
My uncle _Toby_ laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from
before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and _Trim_, without
being ordered, took away, without saying one word, and in a few minutes
after brought him his pipe and tobacco.
——Stay in the room a little, said my uncle _Toby._
_Trim!_——said my uncle _Toby_, after he lighted his pipe, and smoak’d
about a dozen whiffs.——_Trim_ came in front of his master, and made his
bow;—my uncle _Toby_ smoak’d on, and said no more.——Corporal! said my
uncle _Toby_—the corporal made his bow.——My uncle _Toby_ proceeded no
farther, but finished his pipe.
_Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, I have a project in my head, as it is a
bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure, and paying a
visit to this poor gentleman.——Your honour’s roquelaure, replied the
corporal, has not once been had on, since the night before your honour
received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the
gate of St. _Nicholas;_—and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night,
that what with the roquelaure, and what with the weather, ’twill be
enough to give your honour your death, and bring on your honour’s
torment in your groin. I fear so, replied my uncle _Toby;_ but I am not
at rest in my mind, _Trim_, since the account the landlord has given
me.——I wish I had not known so much of this affair,—added my uncle
_Toby_,—or that I had known more of it:——How shall we manage it? Leave
it, an’t please your honour, to me, quoth the corporal;——I’ll take my
hat and stick and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly;
and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour.——Thou shalt go,
_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and here’s a shilling for thee to drink
with his servant.——I shall get it all out of him, said the corporal,
shutting the door.
My uncle _Toby_ filled his second pipe; and had it not been, that he
now and then wandered from the point, with considering whether it was
not full as well to have the curtain of the tennaile a straight line,
as a crooked one,—he might be said to have thought of nothing else but
poor _Le Fever_ and his boy the whole time he smoaked it.