My Uncle Toby lay 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 it away without saying one word, and in a few minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.

“Trim,” said my Uncle Toby, after he had lighted his pipe and smoked about a dozen whiffs; “I have a project in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm and paying a visit to this poor gentleman.”  “Leave it, an’ please your honour, to me,” quoth the Corporal; “I’ll take my hat and stick and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour.”

VIII.—­The Story of Le Fevre (continued)

It was not till my Uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe that Corporal Trim returned from the inn, and gave him the following account.

“I despaired at first,” said the Corporal, “of being able to bring back any intelligence to your honour about the Lieutenant and his son; for when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of knowing everything which was proper to be asked,”—­("that’s a right distinction, Trim,” said my Uncle Toby)—­“I was answered, an’ please your honour, 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 deathwatch all night long; and when he dies, the youth, his son, will certainly die with him, for he’s broken-hearted already.’  I was hearing this account, 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 that purpose.—­’I believe, sir,’ said he, very modestly, ’I can please him best myself.’—­’I am sure,’ said I, ’his honour 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.”)

“When I gave him the toast,” continued the Corporal, “I thought it was proper to tell him I was Captain Shandy’s servant, and that your honour (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father, and that if there was anything in your house or cellar,”—­("And thou mightest have added my purse, too,” said my Uncle Toby)—­he was heartily welcome to it.  He made a very low bow (which was meant to your honour) but no answer, for his heart was full;