THE anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in
itself; and the uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness of the
roads, which were terribly cut up—making bad still worse—every step was
death to me: so that with the loss of blood, and the want of
care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides——(Poor soul!
said my uncle _Toby_)——all together, an’ please your honour, was more
than I could sustain.
I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasant’s house,
where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had
help’d me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket
and dropp’d it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheer’d me, she had
given it me a second and a third time——So I was telling her, an’ please
your honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable
to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face
towards one which was in the corner of the room—and die, than go
on——when, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her
arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping
his eyes, will hear.