lost, if, indeed, it can be said ever to have been begun.  The absence of arrangement is so marked that it is very difficult to turn to a passage which in a previous perusal has struck the eye.  The eccentricity and whimsicality of the book contributed greatly to its immediate popularity.  But the same characteristics which seem brilliant when novel, soon become dull when familiar, and although “Tristram Shandy” will always afford single passages of lasting interest to the lover of literature, the work as a whole is not a little tedious when read continuously from cover to cover.

In the course of his literary medley, Sterne introduces his reader to a group of characters amongst the most odd and original in fiction.  Mr. Shandy, with his syllogisms and his hypotheses, his “close reasoning upon the smallest matters”; Yorick, the witty parson, whose epitaph, Alas!  Poor Yorick! expresses so tenderly the amiable faults for which he suffered; Captain Shandy, that combination of simplicity, gentleness, humanity, and modesty, are all creations which deserve to rank with the most individual and happily conceived of fictitious personages.  Sterne makes a character known to the reader by a succession of delicate touches rather than by description.  He seems to enter into an individual, and make him betray his peculiarities by significant actions and phrases.  Thus Mr. Shandy exposes at once the nature of his mind and the vigor of his “hobby-horse,” when he exclaims to his brother Toby:  “What is the character of a family to an hypothesis?”

The combination of sentiment, pathos, and humor which Sterne sometimes reached with remarkable success, is particularly apparent in every incident which concerns the celebrated Captain Toby Shandy, for the creation of which character this author may most easily be forgiven his indecencies and his literary thefts.  Uncle Toby’s sympathy with Lefevre, a poor army officer, on his way to join his regiment, who died in an inn near Shandy’s house, is exquisitely painted throughout, and the colloquy between the captain and his faithful servant, Corporal Trim, when the death of the officer is imminent, is probably the finest passage which ever fell from the skilful pen of Laurence Sterne: 

A sick brother-officer should have the best quarters, Trim; and if we had him with us,—­we could tend and look to him.—­Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim:  and what with thy care of him, and the old woman’s, and his boy’s, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs.

—­In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, smiling, he might march.—­He will never march, an’ please your Honour, in this world, said the Corporal.—­He will march, said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed with one shoe off.—­An’ please your Honour, said the Corporal, he will never march but to his grave.  He shall march, cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which