The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy [85]
proper place, my uncle Toby, honest man! found it necessary to draw off his forces and raise the siege somewhat indignantly.
Corporal Trim, as I said, had made no such bargain either with himself--or with any one else--the fidelity however of his heart not suffering him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust--he contented himself with turning his part of the siege into a blockade;--that is, he kept others off;--for though he never after went to the house, yet he never met Bridget in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her--or (as circumstances directed) he would shake her by the hand--or ask her lovingly how she did--or would give her a ribbon--and now-and-then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give Bridget a. . .--
Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is from the demolition of Dunkirk in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle Toby's campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I'm speaking of.--When Trim, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle Toby to bed, going down one moon-shiny night to see that every thing was right at his fortifications--in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly--he espied his Bridget.
As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle Toby had made, Trim courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth'd trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach'd my father's, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle Toby's curious draw-bridge, constructed and painted after the Dutch fashion, and which went quite across the ditch--was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night.
My Father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle Toby's hobby-horse; he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle Toby vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it--so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father's imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall'n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him--Well--but dear Toby! my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened.--How can you teaze me so much about it? my uncle Toby would reply--I have told it you twenty times, word for word as Trim told it me.--Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to Trim.--It was a mere misfortune, an' please your honour;--I was shewing Mrs. Bridget our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp'd in--Very well, Trim! my father would cry--(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod--but without interrupting him)--and being link'd fast, an' please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragg'd her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge--and Trim's foot (my uncle Toby would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too.--It was a thousand to one, my uncle Toby would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg.--Ay truly, my father would say--a limb is soon broke, brother Toby, in such encounters.--And so, an' please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.
At other times, but especially when my uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards--my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the Battering-Rams of the ancients--the Vinea which Alexander made use of at the siege of Troy.--He would tell my uncle Toby of the Catapultae of the Syrians, which threw such
Corporal Trim, as I said, had made no such bargain either with himself--or with any one else--the fidelity however of his heart not suffering him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust--he contented himself with turning his part of the siege into a blockade;--that is, he kept others off;--for though he never after went to the house, yet he never met Bridget in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her--or (as circumstances directed) he would shake her by the hand--or ask her lovingly how she did--or would give her a ribbon--and now-and-then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give Bridget a. . .--
Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is from the demolition of Dunkirk in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle Toby's campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I'm speaking of.--When Trim, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle Toby to bed, going down one moon-shiny night to see that every thing was right at his fortifications--in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly--he espied his Bridget.
As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle Toby had made, Trim courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth'd trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach'd my father's, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle Toby's curious draw-bridge, constructed and painted after the Dutch fashion, and which went quite across the ditch--was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night.
My Father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle Toby's hobby-horse; he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle Toby vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it--so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father's imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall'n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him--Well--but dear Toby! my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened.--How can you teaze me so much about it? my uncle Toby would reply--I have told it you twenty times, word for word as Trim told it me.--Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to Trim.--It was a mere misfortune, an' please your honour;--I was shewing Mrs. Bridget our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp'd in--Very well, Trim! my father would cry--(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod--but without interrupting him)--and being link'd fast, an' please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragg'd her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge--and Trim's foot (my uncle Toby would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too.--It was a thousand to one, my uncle Toby would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg.--Ay truly, my father would say--a limb is soon broke, brother Toby, in such encounters.--And so, an' please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.
At other times, but especially when my uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards--my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the Battering-Rams of the ancients--the Vinea which Alexander made use of at the siege of Troy.--He would tell my uncle Toby of the Catapultae of the Syrians, which threw such