Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is, from the demolition of _Dunkirk_ in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle _Toby’s_ campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I’m speaking of. ----When _Trim_, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle _Toby_ to bed, going down one moonshiny night to see that everything was right at his fortifications----in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly--he espied his _Bridget_. As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle _Toby_ had made, _Trim_ courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth’d trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach’d my father’s, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle _Toby’s_ curious drawbridge, constructed and painted after the _Dutch_ fashion, and which went quite across the ditch--was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night. My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle _Toby’s_ hobby-horse, he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle _Toby_ vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it----so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father’s imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall’n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him. ----Well----but dear _Toby!_ my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened. ----How can you tease me so much about it? my uncle _Toby_ would reply --I have told it you twenty times, word for word as _Trim_ told it me. --Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to _Trim_. --It was a mere misfortune, an’ please your honour; ----I was shewing Mrs. _Bridget_ our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp’d in ----Very well, _Trim!_ my father would cry----(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod--but without interrupting him)----and being link’d fast, an’ please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. _Bridget_, I dragg’d her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge----and _Trim’s_ foot (my uncle _Toby_ would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too. --It was a thousand to one, my uncle _Toby_ would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg. ------Ay truly, my father would say---- a limb is soon broke, brother _Toby_, in such encounters. ----And so, an’ please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.