me: she had assured them I should
expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to
myself--I found myself in a still quiet cottage, with no one but the
young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in
the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the
young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dipp'd in
vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.

I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no
inn)--so had offer'd her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my
poor brother Tom (here Trim wip'd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a
recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon--

--I never told your honour that piteous story yet--here Trim wiped his
eyes a third time.

The young woman call'd the old man and his wife into the room, to shew
them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little
necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to
the hospital--Come then! said she, tying up the little purse--I'll be
your banker--but as that office alone will not keep me employ'd, I'll be
your nurse too.

I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which
I then began to consider more attentively--that the young woman could
not be the daughter of the peasant.

She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal'd under a
cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of
nuns, an' please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are
a good many in Flanders, which they let go loose--By thy description,
Trim, said my uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young Beguine, of
which there are none to be found any where but in the Spanish
Netherlands--except at Amsterdam--they differ from nuns in this, that
they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and
take care of the sick by profession--I had rather, for my own part, they
did it out of good-nature.

--She often told me, quoth Trim, she did it for the love of Christ--I
did not like it.--I believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said my uncle
Toby--we'll ask Mr. Yorick about it to-night at my brother Shandy's--so
put me in mind; added my uncle Toby.

The young Beguine, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself time
to tell me 'she would be my nurse,' when she hastily turned about to
begin the office of one, and prepare something for me--and in a s