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comfort," said my undo 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."

7. "When I went up," continued the corporal, "into the lieu tenant'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 suppose 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. 'Let it remain there, my dear,' said the lieutenant."

8. "He did not offer to speak to me till I had walked up close to his bedside. '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 Levens'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 handkerchief; 'then well may I.' In saying this, he drew a little ring out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black ribbon about his neck, and kissed it twice. 'Here, Billy,' said he. The boy flew across the room to the bedside, and, falling down upon his knees, took the ring in his hand and kissed it too; then kissed his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept.

SPELL AND PRONOUNCE— death'-watch, a beetle intelligence, news. countermand', to or

whose ticking is Bud- benumbed', made der differently from posed to indicate death. powerless by cold. before,

piqued', to be annoyed, reputa tion,good name. hypoe'risy, insincerity, offended. expira'tion, end.

* Begiments were known in those days by the name of their colonels.

PART III.

1. "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.

2. "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, I forget what, was universally pitied by the whole regiment; but finish the story thou art upon." "'Tis finished already," said the corporal, "for I could stay no longer; so wished his honour a good-night. Young Le Fevre rose from off the bed and saw me to the bottom of the stairs, and as we went down together told me they had come from Ireland, and were on their route to join the regiment in Flanders. But alas!" said the corporal, "the lieutenant's last day's march is over." "Then what is to become of his boy?" cried my uncle Toby.

3. 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 natural and a positive law, know not for their souls which way in the world to turn themselves—that, notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond,1 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; and except that he ordered the garden-gate 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.

4. "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 knovvest he was but a poor lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as himself out of his pay—that thou didst

s

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.

5. "In the second place, for which,indeed,thou hast the same excuse," continued my uncle Toby, "when thou offerdst him whatever was in my house, thou shouldst have offered him my house too. A sick brother-officer should have the best quarters, Trim; and if we had him with us we could tend and look to him. Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim; and what with thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs. 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. "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 nncle 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-a-day, do what we can for him," said Trim, maintaining his point, "the poor soul will die." "He shall not die!" cried my uncle Toby.

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

7. 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 eyelids, and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle when my uncle Toby, who had rose2 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 brotherofficer 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 «o 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, Lo Fevre."

8. 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 showed 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, he had the son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold of the breast o'f 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 wistfully 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 ebbed again; the film returned to its place; the pulse fluttered—stopped—went on—throbbed—stopped again—moved —stopped. Shall I go on? No.

NOTES.

i My uncle Toby is represented as having by going over all the siege again, in a

made a model of Dendermond in his mimic way, with Corporal Trim,

back garden, and as amusing himself 2 rose, now-a-days we say " risen."

SPELL AND PRONOTJNCE—

par'allel, equal, corrc- drawers for keeping familiarity, freedom

sponding to. papers, money, &c. from ceremony,

coun'terscarp, the out- preface, here, words of film, here, a shade, or

side slope of a ditch in introduction. dimness.

a fort. apol'ogy, excuse , lig'ament, bond of con

expen'sive, costly. Independ'ently, here, nection; here, referring

subsist', to support, without regard to. to the love of the father

bureau', a chest of concerting, planning. for the son.

HEEOISM OF HOME.

There are homesteads which have witnessed deeds
That battle-fields, with all their bannered pomp,
Have little to compare with. Life's groat play
May, so it have an actor great enough,
Be well performed upon a humble stage.

HYMN OP THE HEBREW MAID.—Sir Waltee Scon.

(For notice of Sir Walter Scott seepage 172.)

When Israel, of the Lord beloved,

Out from the land of bondage came.
Her father's God before her moved,

An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
By day along the astonished lands

The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night Arabia's crimsoned sands

Returned the fiery pillar's glow.

There rose the choral hymn of praise,

And trump and timbrel answered keen:
And Zion's daughters poured their lays,

With priests' and warriors' voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,

Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,

And thou hast left them to their own.

But present still, though now unseen!

When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen

To temper the deceitful ray.
And, oh! when stoops on Judah's path,

In shade and storm, the frequent night,
Be thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,

A burning and a shining light.

Our harps we left by Babel's streams,

The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn j
No censer round our altar beams,

And mute are timbrel, trump, and horn.
But Thou hast said—" The blood of goat,

The flesh of rams, I will not prize j
A contrite heart, an humble thought,

Are mine accepted sacrifice."

SPELL AND PRONOUNCE—

cho'ral, from a choir.

por'tents, wonders.

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