me, an' please your honour? Nothing in joints;-perhaps without straw in his

the world, Trim, said my uncle Toby, blowing his nose, but that thou art a good-natured fellow.

tent to kneel on;-he must say his prayers how and when he can.-I believe, said I-for I was piqued, quoth the When I gave him the toast, continued corporal, for the reputation of the army the corporal, I thought it was proper to I believe, an't please your reverence, tell him I was Captain Shandy's servant, said I, that when a soldier gets time to and that your honour (though a stranger) pray,-he prays as heartily as a parson was extremely concerned for his father: though not with all his fuss and hypo—and that if there was any thing in your house or cellar-(and thou mightest have added my purse too, said my uncle Toby) he was heartily welcome to it:-he made a very low bow, (which was meant to your honour) but no answer,-for his heart was full-so he went up stairs with the toast; I warrant you, my dear, said I, as I opened the kitchen-door, your father will be well again. Mr. Yorick's curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire—but said not a word good or bad to comfort the youth-I thought it was wrong, added the corporal- I think so too, said my uncle Toby.

When the lieutenant had taken his glass of sack and toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the kitchen, to let me know, that in about ten minutes he should be glad if I would step up stairs. -I believe, said the landlord, he is going to say his prayers for there was a book laid upon the chair by his bed-side; and as I shut the door I saw his son take up a cushion.

I thought, said the curate, that you gentlemen of the army, Mr. Trim, never said your prayers at all. I heard the poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, very devoutly, and with my own ears, or I could not have believed it. -Are you sure of it? replied the curate;

A soldier, an' please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own accord) as a parson :-and when he is fighting for his king, and for his own life, and for his honour too, he has the most reason to pray to God of any one in the whole world. "Twas well said of thee, Trim, said my uncle Toby. But when a soldier, said I, an' please your reverence, has been standing for twelve hours together in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water, or engaged, said I, for months together in long and dangerous marches; harassed, perhaps, in his rear to-day; harassing others to-morrow ;-detached here ;-countermanded there;-resting this night upon his arms;-beat up in his shirt the next;-benumbed in his

crisy.- -Thou shouldst not have said that, Trim, said my uncle Toby,-for God only knows who is a hypocrite, and who is not.-At the great and general review of us all, corporal, at the day of judgment, (and not till then) it will be seen who has done their duties in this world, and who has not, and we shall be advanced, Trim, accordingly.-I hope we shall, said Trim. It is in the Scripture, said my uncle Toby; and I will shew it thee tomorrow:-In the mean time we may depend upon it, Trim, for our comfort, said my uncle Toby, that God Almighty is so good and just a governor of the world, that if we have but done our duties in it,— it will never be inquired into, whether we have done them in a red coat or a black one:-I hope not, said the corporal.-But go on, Trim, said my uncle Toby, with thy story.

When I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieutenant's room, which I did not do till the expiration of the ten minutes,— he was lying in his bed with his head raised upon his hand, with his elbow upon the pillow, and a clean white cambric handkerchief beside it :-The youth was just stooping down to take up the cushion, upon which I supposed he had been kneeling.the book was laid upon the bed,—and as he rose, in taking up the cushion with one hand he reached out his other to take it away at the same time. there, my dear, said the lieutenant.

Let it remain

He did not offer to speak to me, till I had walked up close to his bed-side:-If you are Captain Shandy's servant, said he, you must present my thanks to your master, with my little boy's thanks along with them, for his courtesy to me,-if he was of Leven's-said the lieutenant-I told him your honour was. -Then, said he, I served three campaigns with him in Flanders, and remember him-but 'tis most likely, as I had not the honour of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing of me.-You will tell him, however, that the person his good-nature has laid under obligations to him, is one Le Fevre,

a lieutenant in Angus's-but he knows me not, said he, a second time, musing; -possibly he may my story-added he pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent.I remember the story, an't please your honour, said I, very well.Do you so? said he, wiping his eyes with his handkerchiefthen well may I.-In saying this, he drew a little ring out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black ribband, about his neck, and kissed it twice. Here, Billy, said he,-the boy flew across the room to the bed-side, and falling down upon his knee, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too, then kissed his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept.

I wish, said my uncle Toby, with a deep sigh, I wish, Trim, I was asleep.

Your honour, replied the corporal, is too much concerned ;-shall I pour your honour out a glass of sack to your pipe?

Do, Trim, said my uncle Toby.

and, except that he ordered the gardengate to be bolted up, by which he might be said to have turned the siege of Dendermond into a blockade, he left Dendermond to itself—to be relieved or not by the French king, as the French king thought good: and only considered how he himself should relieve the poor lieutenant and his son.

-That kind being, who is a friend to the friendless, shall recompense thee for this. Thou hast left this matter short, said my uncle Toby to the corporal, as he was putting him to bed,-and I will tell thee in what, Trim;-in the first place, when thou madest an offer of my services to Le Fevre,-as sickness and travelling are both expensive, and thou knowest he was but a poor lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as himself, out of his pay, that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse; because, had he stood in need, thou knowest, Trim, he had been as welcome to it as myself.

-Your honour knows, said the corporal, I had no orders ;-True, quoth my uncle Toby,-thou didst very right, Trim, as a soldier,-but certainly very wrong as a man.

I remember, said my uncle Toby, sighing again, the story of the ensign and his wife, with a circumstance his modesty omitted; and particularly well that he, as well as she, upon some account or other, In the second place, for which, indeed, (I forget what) was universally pitied by thou hast the same excuse, continued my the whole regiment;-but finish the story uncle Toby,when thou offeredst him thou art upon;-"Tis finished already, said whatever was in my house,-thou shouldst the corporal, for I could stay no longer, have offered him my house too:A sick so wished his honour a good night; brother officer should have the best quaryoung Le Fevre rose from off the bed and ters, Trim; and if we had him with us,saw me to the bottom of the stairs; and we could tend and look to him,—thou as we went down together, told me, they art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim, had come from Ireland, and were on their and what with thy care of him, and the route to join their regiment in Flanders old woman's and his boy's and mine toge-But, alas! said the corporal,-the lieuther, we might recruit him again at once, tenant's last day's march is over. and set him upon his legs.Then what is to become of his poor boy? cried my uncle Toby.

It was to my uncle Toby's eternal honour, though I tell it only for the sake of those, who, when cooped in betwixt a na tural and a positive law, know not for their souls which way in the world to turn themselves that notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly attached at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond, parallel with the allies, who pressed theirs on so vigorously, that they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner- -that nevertheless he gave up Dendermond, though he had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp: and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn;

In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, smiling,-he might march.-He will never march, an' please your honour, in this world, said the corporal;poral; He will march, said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed, with one shoe off:-An' please your honour, said the corporal, he will never march but to his grave:-He shall march! cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch, he shall march to his regiment. He cannot stand it, said the corporal. He shall be supported, said my uncle Toby.-He'll drop at last, said the corporal, and what will become of his boy? -He shall not drop, said my uncle Toby,

firmly.-A-well-o'day,-do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point, the poor soul will die:He shall not die, by G-, cried my uncle Toby.

-The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in-and the recording angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.

-My uncle Toby went to his bureau, put his purse into his breechespocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician-he went to bed and fell asleep.

The sun looked bright the morning after, to every eye in the village but Le Fevre's and his afflicted son's; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eye-lids, —and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle,-when my uncle Toby, who had rose up an hour before his wonted time, entered the lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology sat himself down upon the chair, by the bedside, and independently of all modes and customs opened the curtain in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it, and asked him how he did, -how he had rested in the night,-what was his complaint,-where was his pain, --and what he could do to help him? ——and without giving him time to answer any one of the inquiries, went on and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting with the corporal the night before for him.

-You shall go home directly, Le Fevre, said my uncle Toby, to my house, and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter,--and we'll have an apothecary,--and the corporal shall be your nurse; and I'll be your servant, Le Fevre.

There was a frankness in my uncle Toby, not the effect of familiarity,-but the cause of it, which let you at once into his soul, and shewed you the goodness of his nature to this, there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, superadded, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him; so that before my uncle Toby had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father, the son had insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him.-The blood and spirits of Le Fevre, which were waxing cold and slow within him, and

were retreating to their last citadel, the heart,-rallied back, the film forsook his eyes for a moment, he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face,-then cast a look upon his boy,-and that ligament, fine as it was, was never broken.

Nature instantly ebb'd again, the film returned to its place,-the pulse flutter'd-stopp'd-went on-throbb'dstopp'd again-mov'd-stopp'd-shall I go on?- -No. Sterne.

§ 2. YORICK'S Death.

A few hours before Yorick breathed his last, Eugenius stept in, with an intent to take his last sight and last farewell of him. Upon his drawing Yorick's curtain, and asking how he felt himself, Yorick, looking up in his face, took hold of his hand,and, after thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship to him, for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter, he would thank him again and again; he told him, he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for ever.-I hope not, answered Eugenius, with tears trickling down his cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that ever man spoke,-[ hope not, Yorick, said he.-Yorick replied, with a look up, and a gentle squeeze of Eugenius's hand,—and that was all,but it cut Eugenius to his heart.-Come, come, Yorick, quoth Eugenius, wiping his eyes, and summoning up the man within him, my dear lad, be comforted,

let not all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee at this crisis, when thou most wantest them;-who knows what resources are in store, and what the power of God may yet do for thee?-Yorick laid his hand upon his heart, and gently shook his head: for my part, continued Eugenius, crying bitterly as he uttered the words,

I declare, I know not, Yorick, how to part with thee, and would gladly flatter my hopes, added Eugenius, cheering up his voice, that there is still enough of thee left to make a bishop,—and that I may live to see it.I beseech thee, Eugenius, quoth Yorick, taking off his night-cap as well as he could with his left hand,-his right being still grasped close in that of Eugenius- -I beseech thee to take a view of my head.I see nothing that ails it, replied Eugenius. Then, alas! my friend, said Yorick, let me tell you, that it is so bruised and mis-shapened with the blows which have been so unhandsomely given me in the dark, that I might say

with Sancho Panza, that should I recover, and "mitres thereupon be suffered to rain "down from heaven as thick as hail; not "one of them would fit it."-Yorick's last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips, ready to depart as he uttered this; yet still it was uttered with something of a Cervantic tone ;-and as he spoke it, Eugenius could perceive a stream of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his eyes; -faint picture of those flashes of his spirit, which (as Shakspeare said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar !

Eugenius was convinced from this, that the heart of his friend was broke; he squeezed his hand,and then walked softly out of the room, weeping as he walked. Yorick followed Eugenius with his eyes to the door,he then closed them -and never opened them more. He lies buried in a corner of his churchyard, under a plain marble-slab, which his friend Eugenius, by leave of his executors, laid upon his grave, with no more than these three words of inscription, serving both for his epitaph, and elegy

grove. Mutual admiration soon begot a friendship. Their fortunes were nearly equal, and they were natives of the two most celebrated cities in the world; for Alcander was of Athens, Septimius came from Rome.

In this state of harmony they lived for some time together; when Alcander, after passing the first part of his youth in the indolence of philosophy, thought at length of entering into the busy world; and, as a step previous to this, placed his affections on Hypatia, a lady of exquisite beauty. The day of their intended nuptials was fixed; the previous ceremonies were performed; and nothing now remained but her being conducted in triumph to the apartment of the intended bridegroom.

Alcander's exultation in bis own happiness, or being unable to enjoy any satisfaction without making his friend Septimius a partner, prevailed upon him to introduce Hypatia to his fellow-student; which he did with all the gaiety of a man who found himself equally happy in friendship and love. But this was an interview fatal to the future peace of both; for Septimius no sooner saw her, but he was smitten with an involuntary passion; and, though he used every effort to suppress desires at once so imprudent and unjust, the emotions of his mind in a short time became so strong, that they brought on a fever, which the physicians judged incurable.

During this illness, Alcander watched him with all the anxiety of fondness, and brought his mistress to join in those amiable offices of friendship. The sagacity of the physicians by these means soon discovered that the cause of their patient's disorder was love: and Alcander being apprized of their discovery, at length ex

torted a confession from the reluctant dying lover.

It would but delay the narrative to describe the conflict between love and friendship in the breast of Alcander on this occasion; it is enough to say, that the Athenians were at that time arrived at such refinement in morals, that every virtue was carried to excess. In short, forgetful of his own felicity, he gave up his intended bride, in all her charms, to the young Roman. They were married privately by his connivance, and this unlooked-for change of fortune wrought as unexpected a change in the constitution of the now happy Sep