CHAPTER XVIII

Your honour, said _Trim_, shutting the parlour-door before he began to speak, has heard, I imagine, of this unlucky accident ----O yes, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and it gives me great concern. --I am heartily concerned too, but I hope your honour, replied _Trim_, will do me the justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to me. ----To thee--_Trim?_ --cried my uncle _Toby_, looking kindly in his face------’twas _Susannah’s_ and the curate’s folly betwixt them. ------What business could they have together, an’ please your honour, in the garden? ----In the gallery thou meanest, replied my uncle _Toby_.

_Trim_ found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short with a low bow ----Two misfortunes, quoth the corporal to himself, are twice as many at least as are needful to be talked over at one time; ----the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be told his honour hereafter. ----_Trim’s_ casuistry and address, under the cover of his low bow, prevented all suspicion in my uncle _Toby_, so he went on with what he had to say to _Trim_ as follows:

------For my own part, _Trim_, though I can see little or no difference betwixt my nephew’s being called _Tristram_ or _Trismegistus_--yet as the thing sits so near my brother’s heart, _Trim_ ------I would freely have given a hundred pounds rather than it should have happened. ----A hundred pounds, an’ please your honour! replied _Trim_, ----I would not give a cherry-stone to boot. ----Nor would I, _Trim_, upon my own account, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --------but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this case--maintains that a great deal more depends, _Trim_, upon christian-names, than what ignorant people imagine----for he says there never was a great or heroic action performed since the world began by one called _Tristram_--nay, he will have it, _Trim_, that a man can neither be learned, or wise, or brave. ----’Tis all fancy, an’ please your honour --I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment called me _Trim_, as when they called me _James Butler_. ----And for my own part, said my uncle _Toby_, though I should blush to boast of myself, _Trim_----yet had my name been _Alexander_, I could have done no more at _Namur_ than my duty. --Bless your honour! cried _Trim_, advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his christian-name when he goes upon the attack? ------Or when he stands in the trench, _Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby_, looking firm. ----Or when he enters a breach? said _Trim_, pushing in between two chairs. ----Or forces the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a pike. ----Or facing a platoon? cried _Trim_, presenting his stick like a fire-lock. ----Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle _Toby_, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.------

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