CHAPTER IX

------To us, _Jonathan_, who know not what want or care is--who live here in the service of two of the best of masters--(bating in my own case his majesty King _William_ the Third, whom I had the honour to serve both in _Ireland_ and _Flanders_) --I own it, that from _Whitsontide_ to within three weeks of _Christmas_, --’tis not long--’tis like nothing; --but to those, _Jonathan_, who know what death is, and what havock and destruction he can make, before a man can well wheel about--’tis like a whole age. --O _Jonathan!_ ’twould make a good-natured man’s heart bleed, to consider, continued the corporal (standing perpendicularly), how low many a brave and upright fellow has been laid since that time! --And trust me, _Susy_, added the corporal, turning to _Susannah_, whose eyes were swimming in water, --before that time comes round again, --many a bright eye will be dim. --_Susannah_ placed it to the right side of the page--she wept--but she court’sied too. --Are we not, continued _Trim_, looking still at _Susannah_ --are we not like a flower of the field--a tear of pride stole in betwixt every two tears of humiliation--else no tongue could have described _Susannah’s_ affliction--is not all flesh grass? --’Tis clay, --’tis dirt. --They all looked directly at the scullion, --the scullion had just been scouring a fish-kettle. --It was not fair.----

--What is the finest face that ever man looked at! --I could hear _Trim_ talk so for ever, cried _Susannah_, --what is it! (_Susannah_ laid her hand upon _Trim’s_ shoulder)--but corruption? ----_Susannah_ took it off.

Now I love you for this--and ’tis this delicious mixture within you which makes you dear creatures what you are--and he who hates you for it------all I can say of the matter is --That he has either a pumpkin for his head--or a pippin for his heart, --and whenever he is dissected ’twill be found so.

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