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Chapter 39 Was it Mackays regiment, quoth my uncle Toby, where the poor grenadier was so unmercifully whippd at Bruges about the ducats?O Christ! he was innocent! cried Trim, with a deep sigh.And he was whippd, may it please your honour, almost to deaths door.They had better have shot him outright, as he beggd, and he had gone directly to heaven, for he was as innocent as your honour.I thank thee, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby.I never think of his, continued Trim, and my poor brother Toms misfortunes, for we were all three school-fellows, but I cry like a coward.Tears are no proof of cowardice, Trim.I drop them oft-times myself, cried my uncle Toby.I know your honour does, replied Trim, and so am not ashamed of it myself. But to think, may it please your honour, continued Trim, a tear stealing into the corner of his eye as he spoketo think of two virtuous lads with hearts as warm in their bodies, and as honest as God could make themthe children of honest people, going forth with gallant spirits to seek their fortunes in the worldand fall into such evils!poor Tom! to be tortured upon a rack for nothingbut marrying a Jews widow who sold sausages honest Dick Johnsons soul to be scourged out of his body, for the ducats another man put into his knapsack!O!these are misfortunes, cried Trim,- -pulling out his handkerchiefthese are misfortunes, may it please your honour, worth lying down and crying over. My father could not help blushing. Twould be a pity, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy ownthou feelest it so tenderly for others.Alack-o-day, replied the corporal, brightening up his faceyour honour knows I have neither wife or childI can have no sorrows in this world.My father could not help smiling.As few as any man, Trim, replied my uncle Toby; nor can I see how a fellow of thy light heart can suffer, but from the distress of poverty in thy old agewhen thou art passed all services, Trimand hast outlived thy friends.An please your honour, never fear, replied Trim, chearily.But I would have thee never fear, Trim, replied my uncle Toby, and therefore, continued my uncle Toby, throwing down his crutch, and getting up upon his legs as he uttered the word thereforein recompence, Trim, of thy long fidelity to me, and that goodness of thy heart I have had such proofs ofwhilst thy master is worth a shilling thou shalt never ask elsewhere, Trim, for a penny. Trim attempted to thank my uncle Tobybut had not powertears trickled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them offHe laid his hands upon his breastmade a bow to the ground, and shut the door. I have left Trim my bowling-green, cried my uncle TobyMy father smiled.I have left him moreover a pension, continued my uncle Toby.My father looked grave. |
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