ease, Trim, in the window-seat, and begin thy story again." The Corporal made his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could speak it, Your Honour is good:—and having done that, he sat down, as he was ordered, and began the story to my uncle Toby over again in pretty near the same words.
"I despaired at first," said the Corporal, "of being able to bring back any intelligence to your Honour about the Lieutenant and his son;—for, when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of knowing everything which was proper to be asked—" ["That's a right distinction, Trim," said my uncle Toby.] "I was answered, an' please your Honour, that he had no servant with him; that he had come to the inn with hired horses, which, upon finding himself unable to proceed (to join, I suppose, the regiment) he had dismissed the morning after he came. 'If I get better, my dear,' said he, as he gave his purse to his son to pay the man, 'we can hire horses thence.' 'But, alas! the poor gentleman will never go hence,' said the landlady to me, 'for I heard the death-watch all night long; and, when he dies, the youth, his son, will certainly die with him, for he is broken-hearted already.'
"I was hearing this account," continued the Corporal, "when the youth came into the kitchen, to order the thin toast the landlord spoke of. 'But I will do it for my father myself,' said the youth. 'Pray let me save you the trouble, young gentleman,' said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and offering him my chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst I did it. 'I believe, sir,' said he, very modestly, 'I can please him best myself.' 'I am sure,' said I, 'his Honour will not like the toast the
