" "Thou shalt go, Trim," said
my uncle Toby, "and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his
servant." "I shall get it all out of him," said the corporal, shutting
the door. My uncle Toby filled his second pipe; and, had it not been
that he now and then wandered from the point, with considering whether
it was not full as well to have the curtain of the tennaile a straight
line as a crooked one, he might be said to have thought of nothing else
but poor LeFevre and his boy the whole time he smoked it.
My uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, when Trim
returned and gave the following account:
"I despaired at first," said the corporal, "of being able to bring back
your honor any kind of intelligence concerning the poor sick
lieutenant." "Is he in the army, then?" said my uncle Toby. "He is,"
said the corporal. "And in what regiment?" said my uncle Toby. "I'll
tell your honor," replied the corporal, "every thing straight forward,
as I learnt it." "Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe," said my uncle
Toby, "and not interrupt thee till thou hast done; so sit down at thy
ease, Trim, in the window-seat, and begin thy story again." The corporal
made his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could speak
it. "Your honor is good," and, having done that, he sat down as he was
ordered, and began the story to my uncle Toby over again, in pretty
nearly the same words.
"I despaired at first," said the corporal, "of being able to bring back
any intelligence to your honor about the lieutenant and his son; for
when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of
knowing every thing which was proper to be asked"--"That's a right
distinction, Trim," said my uncle Toby.
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