"I was answered, an please your
honor, that he had no servant with him; that he had come to the inn with
hired horses, which, upon finding himself unable to proceed (to join, I
suppose, the regiment), he had dismissed the morning after he came. 'If
I get better, my dear,' said he, as he gave his purse to his son to pay
the man, 'we can hire horses from hence.' 'But, alas! the poor gentleman
will never get from hence,' said the landlady to me, 'for I heard the
death-watch all night long; and when he dies, the youth, his son, will
certainly die with him, for he is broken-hearted already.'
"I was hearing this account," continued the corporal, "when the youth
came into the kitchen to order the thin toast the landlord spoke of;
'but I will do it for my father myself,' said the youth. 'Pray let me
save you the trouble, young gentleman,' said I, taking up a fork for the
purpose, and offering him my chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst
I did it. 'I believe, sir,' said he, very modestly, 'I can please him
best myself.' 'I am sure,' said I, 'his honor will not like the toast
the worse for being toasted by an old soldier.' The youth took hold of
my hand and instantly burst into tears."
"Poor youth," said my uncle Toby, "he has been bred up from an infant in
the army, and the name of a soldier, Trim, sounded in his ears like the
name of a friend; I wish I had him here."
"I never, in the longest march," said the corporal, "had so great a mind
to my dinner as I had to cry with him for company.
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