English, without any periphrasis; and too oft without much distinction of either person, time, or place; so that when mention was made of a pitiful or an ungenerous proceeding -he never gave himself a moment's time to reflect who was the hero of the piece, what his station, or how far he had power to hurt him hereafter; but if it was a dirty action, -without more ado, The man was a dirty fellow, and so on. And as his comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated either in a bon mot, or to be enlivened throughout with some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings to Yorick's indiscretion. In a word, though he never sought, yet, at the same time, as he seldom shunned, occasions of saying what came uppermost, and without much ceremony-he had but too many temptations in life of scattering his wit and his humour, his gibes and his jests, about him.They were not lost for want of gathering. What were the consequences, and what was Yorick's catastrophe thereupon, you will read in the next chapter. The mortgager and mortgagee differ, the one from the other, not more in length of purse than the jester and jestee do in that of memory. But in this the comparison between them runs, as the scholiasts call it, upon all-four;-which, by the by, is upon one or two legs more than some of the best of Homer's can pretend to;namely, That the one raises a sum, and the other a laugh, at your expense, and thinks no more about it. Interest, however, still runs on in both cases;-the periodical or accidental payments of it just serving to keep the memory of the affair alive; till, at length, in some evil hour, pop comes the creditor upon each, and by demanding principal upon the spot, together with full interest to the very day, makes them both feel the full extent of their obligations. As the reader (for I hate your ifs) has a thorough knowledge of human nature, I need not say more to satisfy him that my hero could not go on at this rate without some slight experience of these incidental mementos. To speak the truth, he had wantonly involved himself in a multitude of small book-debts of this stamp, which, notwithstanding Eugenius's frequent advice, he too much disregarded; thinking that, as not one of them was contracted through any malignancy-but, on the contrary, from an honesty of mind, and a mere jocundity of humour, they would all of them be crossed out in course. Eugenius would never admit this; and would often tell him that, one day or other, he would certainly be reckoned with;-and he would often add-in an accent of sorrowful apprehension to the uttermost mite. To which Yorick, with his usual carelessness of heart, would as often answer with a pshaw !— and if the subject was started in the fields,— with a hop, skip, and a jump at the end of it; but, if close pent-up in the social chimneycorner, where the culprit was barricadoed in, with a table and a couple of arm-chairs, and could not so readily fly off in a tangent, Eugenius would then go on with his lecture upon discretion in words to this purpose, though somewhat better put together: "Trust me, dear Yorick, this unwary pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring thee into scrapes and difficulties, which no after-wit can extricate thee out of. In these sallies, too oft, I see it happens that a person laughed at considers himself in the light of a person injured, with all the rights of such a situation belonging to him; and when thou viewest him in that light too, and reckonest up his friends, his family, his kindred and allies-and dost muster up, with them, the many recruits which will list under him from a sense of common danger 'tis no extravagant arithmetic to say that, for every ten jokes, thou hast got a hundred enemies; and till thou hast gone on, and raised a swarm of wasps about thine ears, and art half stung to death by them, thou wilt never be convinced it is so. "I cannot suspect it, in the man whom I esteem, that there is the least spur from spleen or malevolence in these sallies.-I believe and know them to be truly honest and sportivebut consider, my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish this, and that knaves will not; and that thou knowest not what it is either to provoke the one, or to make merry with the other; whenever they associate for mutual defence, depend upon it, they will carry on the war in such a manner against thee, my dear friend, as to make thee heartily sick of it, and of thy life too. "Revenge, from some baneful corner, shall level a tale of dishonour at thee, which no innocence of heart, nor integrity of conduct, shall set right.-The fortunes of thy house shall totter,--thy character, which led the way to them, shall bleed on every side of it,-thy faith questioned,-thy words belied,—thy wit forgotten,-thy learning trampled on. Towind the last scene of thy tragedy, Cruelty and up Cowardice, twin-ruffians, hired and set on by Malice in the dark, shall strike together at all thy infirmities and mistakes:-the best of us, my dear lad, lie open there;-and trust me-trust me, Yorick, when, to gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon that an innocent and a helpless creature shall be sacrificed, 'tis an easy matter to pick up sticks enough from any thicket where it has strayed to make a fire to offer it up with." Yorick scarce ever heard this sad vaticination of his destiny read over to him but with a tear stealing from his eye, and a promissory look attending it that he was resolved, for the time to come, to ride his tit with more sobriety. -But, alas, too late!-a grand confederacy, with *** and *** at the head of it, was formed before the first prediction of it.-The whole plan of attack, just as Eugenius had foreboded, was put in execution all at once,-with so little mercy on the side of the allies, and so little suspicion on Yorick of what was carrying on against him-that, when he thought, good easy man!-full surely, preferment was o'ripening, they had smote his root, and then he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen before him. Yorick, however, fought it out, with all imaginable gallantry, for some time; till overpowered by numbers, and worn out at length by the calamities of the war-but more so by the ungenerous manner in which it was carried on, he threw down the sword; and, though he kept up his spirits in appearance to the last he died, nevertheless, as was generally thought, quite broken-hearted. What inclined Eugenius to the same opinion was as follows: 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,-I 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 left of thee 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 misshapened with the blows which *** and ***, and some others, have 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 Shakspere 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 broken; 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, in the parish of 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: Alas, poor Norick! Ten times in a day has Yorick's ghost the consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over, with such a variety of plaintive tones as denote a general pity and esteem for him a footway crossing the churchyard close by the side of his grave,—not a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it,and sighing, as he walks on, ALAS, POOR YORICK! THE STORY OF LE FEVRE. (FROM "TRISTRAM SHANDY.") 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 worse for being toasted by an old soldier.-The youth took hold of my hand, and instantly burst into tears.-Poor youth! said my uncle Toby; he has been bred up from an infant in the army; and the name of a soldier, Trim, sounded in his ears like the name of a friend! It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe that Corporal-I wish I had him here. Trim returned from the iun, and gave him the following account:— --I despaired at first, said the Corporal, of being able to bring back your honour any kind of intelligence concerning the poor sick Lieutenant. Is he in the army, then? said my uncle Toby.--I'll tell your honour, replied the Corporal, everything straight forwards, as I learnt it.—Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe, said my uncle Toby, and not interrupt thee till thou hast done; so sit down at thy 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 kit chen, 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 -I never, in the longest march, said the Corporal, had so great a mind for my dinner, as I had to cry with him for company. What could be the matter with me, an' please your honour?-Nothing in the world, Trim, said my uncle Toby, blowing his nose, but that thou art a good-natured fellow. -When I gave him the toast, continued the Corporal, I thought it was proper to tell him I was Captain Shandy's servant, and that your honour (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father; and that if there was anything in your house or cellar-[And thou might'st 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 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, anʼ 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 | little boy's thanks along with them, for his to pray to God of any one in the whole world. courtesy to me. If he was of Leven's said -Twas well said of thee, Trim, said my uncle the Lieutenant.-I told him your honour was. Toby. But when a soldier, said I, an' please -Then, said he, I served three campaigns your reverence, has been standing for twelve with him in Flanders, and remember him; hours together in the trenches, up to his knees but 'tis most likely, as I had not the honour in cold water-or engaged, said I, for months of any acquaintance with him, that he knows together in long and dangerous marches;- nothing of me. You will tell him, however, harassed, perhaps, in his rear to-day;- harass- that the person his good-nature has laid under ing others to-morrow;-detached here;-coun- obligations to him is one Le Fevre, a Lieutermanded there; - resting this night out tenant in Angus's; but he knows me not, upon his arms;-beat up in his shirt the said he, a second time, musing; possibly he next; - benumbed in his joints; --perhaps may my story, added he.-Pray tell the Capwithout straw in his tent to kneel on;-he tain I was the ensign at Breda whose wife must say his prayers how and when he can.-I was most unfortunately killed with a musketbelieve, said I, for I was piqued, quoth the shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent.-I Corporal, for the reputation of the army-I remember the story, an' please your honour, believe, an' please your reverence, said I, that said I, very well.-Do you so? said he, wipwhen a soldier gets time to pray-he prays as ing his eyes with his handkerchief, then well heartily as a parson-though not with all his may I.-In saying this, he drew a little ring fuss and hypocrisy.-Thou shouldest not have out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a said that, Trim, said my uncle Toby-for black riband about his neck, and kissed it God only knows who is a hypocrite, and twice.-Here, Billy, said he; the boy flew who is not. At the great and general review across the room to the bed-side, and falling of us all, Corporal, at the day of judgment down upon his knee, took the ring in his (and not till then) it will be seen who have hand, and kissed it too, then kissed his done their duties in this world, and who father, and sat down upon the bed and wept. have not; and we shall be advanced, Trim, I wish, said my uncle Toby, with a deep accordingly. I hope we shall, said Trim.-It sigh, I wish, Trim, I was asleep. is in the Scripture, said my uncle Toby; and I will show it thee to-morrow. 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 arose, 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. 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 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.— 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 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 that 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 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 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, 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 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 knewest 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, as a soldier-but certainly very wrong as a man. In the second place, for which, indeed, thou hast the same excuse, continued my uncle Toby, when thou offeredst 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 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-a-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. 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 risen 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 bed-side, 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 these 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 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 his father, had the son 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 for |