least, this fault, in Trim, broke no squares with them. My uncle Toby, as I said, loved the man ;

-and besides, as he ever looked upon a faithful servant--but as an humble friend, he could not bear to stop his mouth.-Such was the Corporal Trim.

So, thou wast once in love, Trim! said my uncle Toby, smiling

Souse, replied the Corporal-over head and ears; an't please your honour. Prithee when? where?—and how came it to pass ?--I never heard one word of it before, quoth my uncle Toby.-I dare say, answered Trim, that every drummer and serjeant's son in the regiment knew of it.—It's high time I should,-said my uncle Toby.

Your honour remembers with concern, said the Corporal, the total rout and confusion of our camp, and the army, at the affair of Landen; every one was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments of Wyndham, Lumley, and Galway, which covered the retreat over the bridge of Neerspeaken, the King* himself could scarce have gained it--he was pressed hard, as your honour knows, on every side of him

Galiant mortal! cried my uncle Toby, caught up with enthusiasm—this moment, now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, Corporal, to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along with him to support the right, and tear the laurel from Luxembourg's brows, if yet 'tis possible-I see him with the knot of his scarf, just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor Galway's

*King William,

regiment-riding along the line-then wheeling about, and charging Conti at the head of itBrave! brave, by Heaven! cried my uncle Toby, he deserves a crown-As richly as a thief a halter, shouted Trim.

My uncle Toby knew the Corporal's loyalty !otherwise the comparison was not at all to his mind -it did not altogether strike the Corporal's fancy when he had made it—but it could not be recalled --so he had nothing to do but proceed.

As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of any thing but his own safety-Though Talmash, said my uncle Toby, brought off the foot with great prudence-But I was left upon the field, said the Corporal.--Thou wast so, poor fellow! replied my uncle Toby-So that it was noon the next day, continued the Corporal, before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen more, in order to be conveyed to our hospital. Tie 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 caretaking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides -(Poor soul! said my uncle Toby) all together, an't 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 helped 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 cheered me, she had given it me a second and a third time.- -So I was telling her, an't 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.

I thought love had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle Toby.

"Tis the most serious thing, an't please your honour (sometimes), that is in the world.

By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the Corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me; she had assured them I should expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So, when I came to myself-I found myself in a still, quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon the chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief, dipp'd in vinegar, to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.

I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant; (for it was no inn)-so had offered her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wip'd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon.

The young woman called the old man and his wife into the room, to show them the money, in

order to gain me credit for a bed, and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital.--Come, then! said she, tying up the little purse,-I'll be your banker-but as that office alone will not keep me employed, I'll be your nurse too.

I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentively-that the young woman could not be the daughter of the peasant. She was in black down to her toes, with her hair concealed under a cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of Nuns, an't please your honour, of which your honour knows there are a great many in Flanders, which they let loose. -By the description, Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of which there are none to be found any where but in the Spanish Netherlands—except at Amsterdam-they differ from Nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry they visit and take care of the sick by profession-I had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good

nature.

The young Beguine, continued the Corporal, had scarce given herself time to tell me she would be my nurse,' when she hastily turned about to begin the office of one, and prepare something for meand in a short time-though I thought it a long one-she came back with flannels, &c. &c. and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, and made me a thin bason of gruel for my supper--she wished me rest, and promised to be with me early in the morning--She wished me,

an't please your honour, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that night—her figure made sad disturbance within me-I was every moment cutting the world in two-to give her half of itand every moment was I crying, that I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share with her-The whole night long was the fair Beguine, like an angel, close by my bed-side, holding back my curtain, and offering me cordials-and I was only awakened from my dream by her coming there at the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands, that my heart sickened, and I lost colour when she left the room.-Love, an't please your honour, is exactly like war in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete o’Saturday night-may nevertheless be shot through his heart on Sunday morning——It happened so here, an't please your honour, with this difference only-that it was on Sunday, in the afternoon, when I fell in love all at once with a sisserara-it burst upon me, an't please your honour, like a bomb-scarce giving me time to say "God bless

me!'

I thought, Trim, said my uncle Toby, a man never fell in love so very suddenly.

Yes, an't please your honour, if he is in the way of it,-replied Trim.

I prithee, quoth my uncle Toby, inform me how this matter happened.

-With all pleasure, said the Corporal, making a bow. I had escaped, continued the Corporal, all that time, from falling in love, and had gone on to