ery heart of them to Mrs. Wadman.

--And whereabouts, dear sir, quoth Mrs. Wadman, a little categorically,
did you receive this sad blow?--In asking this question, Mrs. Wadman
gave a slight glance towards the waistband of my uncle Toby's red plush
breeches, expecting naturally, as the shortest reply to it, that
my uncle Toby would lay his fore-finger upon the place--It fell out
otherwise--for my uncle Toby having got his wound before the gate of St.
Nicolas, in one of the traverses of the trench opposite to the salient
angle of the demibastion of St. Roch; he could at any time stick a pin
upon the identical spot of ground where he was standing when the stone
struck him: this struck instantly upon my uncle Toby's sensorium--and
with it, struck his large map of the town and citadel of Namur and its
environs, which he had purchased and pasted down upon a board, by the
corporal's aid, during his long illness--it had lain with other military
lumber in the garret ever since, and accordingly the corporal was
detached to the garret to fetch it.

My uncle Toby measured off thirty toises, with Mrs. Wadman's scissars,
from the returning angle before the gate of St. Nicolas; and with such
a virgin modesty laid her finger upon the place, that the goddess of
Decency, if then in being--if not, 'twas her shade--shook her head,
and with a finger wavering across her eyes--forbid her to explain the
mistake.

Unhappy Mrs. Wadman!

--For nothing can make this chapter go off with spirit but an apostrophe
to thee--but my heart tells me, that in such a crisis an apostrophe
is but an insult in disguise, and ere I would offer one to a woman in
distress--let the chapter go to the devil; provided any damn'd critic in
keeping will be but at the trouble to take it with him.

Chapter 4.LXXXVI.

My uncle Toby's Map is carried down into the kitchen.

Chapter 4.LXXXVII.

--And here is the Maes--and this is the Sambre; said the corporal,
pointing with his right hand extended a little towards the map, and his
left upon Mrs. Bridget's shoulder--but not the shoulder next him--and
this, said he, is the town of Namur--and this the citadel--and there
lay the French--and here lay his honour and myself--and in this cursed
trench, Mrs. Bridget, quoth the corporal, taking her by the hand, did he
receive the wound which crush'd him so miserably here.--In pronouncing
which, he slightly press'd the back of her hand towards the part he felt
for--and