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the end of the chapter, had it not been predestined otherwise there is no resisting our fate. It was on a Sunday, in the afternoon, as I told your honour. The old man and his wife had walked out-Every thing was still and hush as midnight about the house.

There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard; when the fair Beguine came to see

me.

My wound was then in a fair way of doing well -the inflammation had been gone off for some time; but it was succeeded with an itching both above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes the whole night for it. Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it,-it only wants rubbing a little, said the Beguine; so covering it with the bed-clothes, she began with the fore-finger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her fore-finger backwards and forwards by the edge of the flannel which kept on the dressing.

In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger-and presently it was laid flat with the other; and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while: it then, came into my head that I should fall in love-I blushed when I saw how white a hand she hadI shall never, an't please your honour, behold another hand so white whilst I live.

The young Beguine, continued the Corporal, perceiving it was of great service to me-from rubbing, for some time, with two fingers-proceeded to rub at length with three-till, by little

and little, she brought down the fourth, and then rubbed with her whole hand: I will never say another word, an't please your honour, upon hands again-but it was softer than satin.

Prithee, Trim, commend it as much as thou wilt, said my uncle Toby; I shall hear thy story with the more delight-The Corporal thanked his master most unfeignedly; but having nothing to say upon the Beguine's hand but the same thing over again-he proceeded to the effects of it.

The fair Beguine, said the Corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under my kneetill I feared her zeal would weary her. I would do a thousand times more,' said she, 'for the love of Christ.' As she continued rubbing-I felt it spread from under her hand, an't please your honour, to every part of my frame,

The more she rubbed, and the longer strokes she took the more the fire kindled in my veins— till at length, by two or three strokes longer than the rest-my passion rose to the highest pitch-I seized her hand--And then thou clapped'st it to thy lips, Trim, said my uncle Toby-and madest a speech.

Whether the Corporal's amour terminated preeisely in the way my uncle Toby described it, is not material; it is enough that it contained in it the essence of all the love romances which ever have been wrote since the beginning of the world,

T, SHANDY.

REMAINDER OF THE STORY OF TRIM'S BROTHER.

As Tom's place, an't please your honour, was easy

-and the weather warm-- -it put him upon thinking seriously of settling himself in the world; and as it fell out about time, that a Jew, who kept a sausage shop in the same street, had the ill luck to die of a stranguary, and leave his widow in possession of a rousing trade--Tom thought (as every body in Lisbon was doing the best he could devise for himself) there could be no harm in offering her his service to carry it on: so without any introduction to the widow except that of buying a pound of sausages at her shop- -Tom set out-counting the matter thus within himself, as he walked along, that let the worst come of it that could, he should at least get a pound of sausages for their worth-but, if things went well, he should be set up: inasmuch as he should get not only a pound of sausages-but a wife-and sausage-shop, an't please your honour, into the bargain.

Every servant in the family, from high to low, wished Tom success: and I can fancy, an't please your honour, I see him this moment, with his white dimity waistcoat and breeches, and hat a little o'one side, passing jollily along the street, swinging his stick, with a smile and a cheerful word for every body he met.

But alas, Tom! thou smilest no more, cried the Corporal, looking on one side of him upon the ground as if he apostrophised him in his dungeon.

Poor fellow! said my uncle Toby feelingly.

He was an honest, light-hearted lad, an't please your honour, as ever blood warm'd

Then he resembled thee, Trim, said my uncle Toby, rapidly.

The Corporal blushed down to his fingers' ends, -A tear of sentimental bashfulness-another of gratitude to my uncle Toby-and a tear of sorrow for his brother's misfortunes, started into his eye, and ran sweetly down his cheek together: my uncle Toby's kindled as one lamp does at another; and taking hold of the breast of Trim's coat (which had been that of Le Fevre's), as if to ease his lame leg, but, in reality, to gratify a finer feeling he stood silent for a minute and a half; at the end of which he took his hand away; and the Corporal making a bow, went on with his story of his brother and the Jew's widow.

When Tom, an't please your honour, got to the shop, there was nobody in it but a poor negro girl, with a bunch of white feathers slightly tied to the end of a long cane, flapping away flies, not killing them.

'Tis a pretty picture, said my uncle Toby,-she had suffered persecution, Trim, and had learnt mercy

-She was good, an't please your honour, from nature as well as from hardships; and there are circumstances in the story of that poor friendless slut, that would melt a heart of stone, said Trim; and some dismal winter's evening, when your honour is in the humour, they shall be told you with the rest of Tom's story, for it makes a part of it.

Then do not forget, Trim, said my uncle Toby.

A negro has a soul? an't please your honour, said the Corporal, (doubtingly).

I am not much versed, Corporal, quoth my uncle Toby, in things of that kind; but I suppose God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me.

It would be putting one sadly over the head of another, quoth the Corporal.

It would be so, said my uncle Toby.

Why then, an't please your honour, is a black wench to be used worse than a white one?

I can give no reason, said my uncle Toby

-Only, cried the Corporal, shaking his head, because she has no one to stand up for her

'Tis that very thing, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, -which recommends her to protection, and her brethren with her; 'tis the fortune of war which has put the whip into our hands now—— -where it may be hereafter, Heaven knows!-but be it where it will, the brave, Trim, will not use it unkindly.

-God forbid, said the Corporal.

Amen, responded my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon his heart.

The Corporal returned to his story, and went on --but with an embarrassment in doing it, which here and there a reader in this world will not be able to comprehend; for by the many sudden transitions all along from one kind and cordial passion to another, in getting thus far on his way, he had lost the sportable key of his voice, which gave sense and spirit to his tale; he attempted twice to resume it, but could not please himself; so givin a stout hem! to rally back the retreating spirits

K

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