ich brought
on the flux, and which had like to have killed both his honour and
myself; now there was no such thing, after the first ten days, continued
the corporal, for a soldier to lie dry in his tent, without cutting a
ditch round it, to draw off the water;--nor was that enough, for those
who could afford it, as his honour could, without setting fire every
night to a pewter dish full of brandy, which took off the damp of the
air, and made the inside of the tent as warm as a stove.--

And what conclusion dost thou draw, corporal Trim, cried my father, from
all these premises?

I infer, an' please your worship, replied Trim, that the radical
moisture is nothing in the world but ditch-water--and that the radical
heat, of those who can go to the expence of it, is burnt brandy,--the
radical heat and moisture of a private man, an' please your honour, is
nothing but ditch-water--and a dram of geneva--and give us but enough
of it, with a pipe of tobacco, to give us spirits, and drive away the
vapours--we know not what it is to fear death.

I am at a loss, Captain Shandy, quoth Doctor Slop, to determine in which
branch of learning your servant shines most, whether in physiology or
divinity.--Slop had not forgot Trim's comment upon the sermon.--

It is but an hour ago, replied Yorick, since the corporal was examined
in the latter, and passed muster with great honour.--

The radical heat and moisture, quoth Doctor Slop, turning to my father,
you must know, is the basis and foundation of our being--as the root of
a tree is the source and principle of its vegetation.--It is inherent
in the seeds of all animals, and may be preserved sundry ways,
but principally in my opinion by consubstantials, impriments, and
occludents.--Now this poor fellow, continued Dr. Slop, pointing to the
corporal, has had the misfortune to have heard some superficial empiric
discourse upon this nice point.--That he has,--said my father.--Very
likely, said my uncle.--I'm sure of it--quoth Yorick.--

Chapter 3.XLI.

Doctor Slop being called out to look at a cataplasm he had ordered, it
gave my father an opportunity of going on with another chapter in the
Tristra-paedia.--Come! cheer up, my lads; I'll shew you land--for when
we have tugged through that chapter, the book shall not be opened again
this twelve-month.--Huzza--!

Chapter 3.XLII.

--Five years with a bib under his chin;

Four years in travelling from Christ-cross-row to Malachi