Imatges de pÓgina

295 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-o'day, do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point, the poor soul will die :-He shall not die, by G--d; cried my uncle Toby.

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The accusing spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blush'd as he gave it in--and the recording angel, as he wrote it down, dropp'd a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.

--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.

The sun look'd 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 eye-lids,--and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle,--when my

Book viij. uncle Toby, who had rose 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 the enquiries, 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 the 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, whic hwere 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 wishfully

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 flutter'd--stopp'd --went on--throbb'd--stopp'd again--mov'd-stopp'd--shall I go on--No.


Yorick's Death.


A few hours before Yorik breath'd his last, Eugenius stept in with an intent to take his last sight and last farewel 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 gentle squeeze of Eugenius's hand--and that was all, but it cut Eugenius to the 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;

Book vii 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 still being 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 mis-shapened with the blows which have been so unhandsomely given me in the dark, that I might say with Sancho Pança, that should I recover, and "mitres

there-upon 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 Shakespeare said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar !

Eugenius was convinced from this, that theheart 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, 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 YORICK!'

Ten times 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 church-yard close by 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 Beggar's Petition.


Pirt the sorrows of

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Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your


Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span,
Oh! give relief, and Heav'n will bless your store.
These tatter'd clothes my poverty bespeak,
These hoary locks proclaim my lengthen'd years;
And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek
Has been the channel to a flood of tears.
Yon house erected on the rising ground,
With tempting aspect drew me from my road
For Plenty there a residence has found
And Grandeur a magnificent abode.
Hard is the fate of the infirm and poor!
Here, as I cray'd a morsel of their bread



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