"
My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from
before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and Trim, without
being ordered, took them away without saying one word, and in a few
minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.
"Stay in the room a little," says my uncle Toby. "Trim," said my uncle
Toby, after he had lighted his pipe and smoked about a dozen whiffs.
Trim came in front of his master and made his bow; my uncle Toby smoked
on and said no more. "Corporal," said my uncle Toby. The corporal made
his bow. My uncle Toby proceeded no farther, but finished his pipe.
"Trim," said my uncle Toby, "I have a project in my head, as it is a bad
night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure, and paying a visit
to this poor gentleman." "Your honor's roquelaure," replied the
corporal, "has not been had on since the night before your honor
received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the
gate of St. Nicholas; and, besides, it is so cold and rainy a night,
that what with the roquelaure and what with the weather, 't will be
enough to give your honor your death, and bring on your honor's torment
in your groin." "I fear so," replied my uncle Toby; "but I am not at
rest in my mind, Trim, since the account the landlord has given me. I
wish I had not known so much of this affair," added my uncle Toby, "or
that I had known more of it. How shall we manage it!" "Leave it, an 't
please your honor, to me," quoth the corporal; "I'll take my hat and
stick, and go to the house, reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will
bring your honor a full account in an hour.
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