say upon sausages,
rather under than over;--that he might have room to act in--

It was owing to the neglect of that very precaution, said my uncle Toby,
laying his hand upon Trim's shoulder, that Count De la Motte lost the
battle of Wynendale: he pressed too speedily into the wood; which if he
had not done, Lisle had not fallen into our hands, nor Ghent and Bruges,
which both followed her example; it was so late in the year, continued
my uncle Toby, and so terrible a season came on, that if things had
not fallen out as they did, our troops must have perish'd in the open
field.--

--Why, therefore, may not battles, an' please your honour, as well as
marriages, be made in heaven?--my uncle Toby mused--

Religion inclined him to say one thing, and his high idea of military
skill tempted him to say another; so not being able to frame a reply
exactly to his mind--my uncle Toby said nothing at all; and the corporal
finished his story.

As Tom perceived, an' please your honour, that he gained ground, and
that all he had said upon the subject of sausages was kindly taken, he
went on to help her a little in making them.--First, by taking hold of
the ring of the sausage whilst she stroked the forced meat down with her
hand--then by cutting the strings into proper lengths, and holding them
in his hand, whilst she took them out one by one--then, by putting them
across her mouth, that she might take them out as she wanted them--and
so on from little to more, till at last he adventured to tie the sausage
himself, whilst she held the snout.--

--Now a widow, an' please your honour, always chuses a second husband as
unlike the first as she can: so the affair was more than half settled in
her mind before Tom mentioned it.

She made a feint however of defending herself, by snatching up a
sausage:--Tom instantly laid hold of another--

But seeing Tom's had more gristle in it--

She signed the capitulation--and Tom sealed it; and there was an end of
the matter.

Chapter 4.LXVII.

All womankind, continued Trim, (commenting upon his story) from
the highest to the lowest, an' please your honour, love jokes; the
difficulty is to know how they chuse to have them cut; and there is no
knowing that, but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field,
by raising or letting down their breeches, till we hit the mark.--

--I like the comparison, said my uncle Toby, better than the thing
itself--

--Because your honour, quoth