MY father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death
had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half before he began to play
upon the floor with the toe of that foot which hung over the bed-side;
my uncle _Toby_’s heart was a pound lighter for it.——In a few moments,
his left-hand, the knuckles of which had all the time reclined upon the
handle of the chamber-pot, came to its feeling—he thrust it a little
more within the valance—drew up his hand, when he had done, into his
bosom—gave a hem! My good uncle _Toby_, with infinite pleasure,
answered it; and full gladly would have ingrafted a sentence of
consolation upon the opening it afforded: but having no talents, as I
said, that way, and fearing moreover that he might set out with
something which might make a bad matter worse, he contented himself
with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch.
Now whether the compression shortened my uncle _Toby_’s face into a
more pleasurable oval—or that the philanthropy of his heart, in seeing
his brother beginning to emerge out of the sea of his afflictions, had
braced up his muscles——so that the compression upon his chin only
doubled the benignity which was there before, is not hard to
decide.——My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam
of sun-shine in his face, as melted down the sullenness of his grief in
a moment.
He broke silence as follows:
C H A P. XXXVIII
DID ever man, brother _Toby_, cried my father, raising himself upon his
elbow, and turning himself round to the opposite side of the bed, where
my uncle _Toby_ was sitting in his old fringed chair, with his chin
resting upon his crutch——did ever a poor unfortunate man, brother
_Toby_, cried my father, receive so many lashes?——The most I ever saw
given, quoth my uncle _Toby_ (ringing the bell at the bed’s head for
_Trim_) was to a grenadier, I think in _Mackay_’s regiment.
——Had my uncle _Toby_ shot a bullet through my father’s heart, he could
not have fallen down with his nose upon the quilt more suddenly.
Bless me! said my uncle _Toby_.
C H A P. XXXIX
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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