Shandy, with his syllogisms and his hypotheses, his "close reasoning
upon the smallest matters"; Yorick, the witty parson, whose epitaph,
_Alas! Poor Yorick!_ expresses so tenderly the amiable faults for which
he suffered; Captain Shandy, that combination of simplicity,
gentleness, humanity, and modesty, are all creations which deserve to
rank with the most individual and happily conceived of fictitious
personages. Sterne makes a character known to the reader by a
succession of delicate touches rather than by description. He seems to
enter into an individual, and make him betray his peculiarities by
significant actions and phrases. Thus Mr. Shandy exposes at once the
nature of his mind and the vigor of his "hobby-horse," when he
exclaims to his brother Toby: "What is the character of a family to an
hypothesis?"

The combination of sentiment, pathos, and humor which Sterne sometimes
reached with remarkable success, is particularly apparent in every
incident which concerns the celebrated Captain Toby Shandy, for the
creation of which character this author may most easily be forgiven his
indecencies and his literary thefts. Uncle Toby's sympathy with
Lefevre, a poor army officer, on his way to join his regiment, who died
in an inn near Shandy's house, is exquisitely painted throughout, and
the colloquy between the captain and his faithful servant, Corporal
Trim, when the death of the officer is imminent, is probably the finest
passage which ever fell from the skilful pen of Laurence Sterne:

A sick brother-officer should have the best quarters, Trim; and if
we had him with us,--we could tend and look to him.--Thou art an
excellent nurse thyself, Trim: and what with thy care of him, and
the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit
him again at once, and set him upon his legs.

--In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, smiling, he
might march.--He will never march, an' please your Honour, in this
world, said the Corporal.--He _will_ march, said my uncle Toby,
rising up from the side of the bed with one shoe off.--An' please
your Honour, said the Corporal, he will never march but to his
grave. He _shall_ march, cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot
which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch,--he _shall_
march to his regiment.--He cannot stand it, said the Corporal.--He
shall be supported, said my uncle Toby.--He'll drop at