“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.  “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.  What could be the matter with me, an’ please your honor?” “Nothing in the world, Trim,” said my uncle Toby, blowing his nose; “but that thou art a good-natured fellow.”

“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 honor (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father; and that if there was any thing in your house or cellar, (’and thou mightst 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 honor), but no answer—­for his heart was full—­so he went upstairs with the toast.  ’I warrant you, my dear,’ said I, as I opened the kitchen door, ’your father will be well again.’  Mr. Yorick’s curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire, but said not a word, good or bad, to comfort the youth.  I thought it was wrong,” added the corporal.  “I think so, too,” said my uncle Toby.

“When the lieutenant had taken his glass of sack and toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the kitchen to let me know that in about ten minutes he should be glad if I would come upstairs.  ’I believe,’ said the landlord, ’he was going to say his prayers, for there was a book laid upon the chair by his bedside; and as I shut the door I saw his son take up a cushion.’