’Twould be a pity, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy own--thou feelest it so tenderly for others. --Alack-o-day, replied the corporal, brightening up his face------your honour knows I have neither wife or child ----I can have no sorrows in this world. ----My father could not help smiling. --As few as any man, _Trim_, replied my uncle _Toby_; nor can I see how a fellow of thy light heart can suffer, but from the distress of poverty in thy old age--when thou art passed all services, _Trim_--and hast outlived thy friends. ----An’ please your honour, never fear, replied _Trim_, chearily. ----But I would have thee never fear, _Trim_, replied my uncle _Toby_, and therefore, continued my uncle _Toby_, throwing down his crutch, and getting up upon his legs as he uttered the word _therefore_--in recompence, _Trim_, of thy long fidelity to me, and that goodness of thy heart I have had such proofs of--whilst thy master is worth a shilling----thou shalt never ask elsewhere, _Trim_, for a penny. _Trim_ attempted to thank my uncle _Toby_--but had not power----tears trickled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them off --He laid his hands upon his breast----made a bow to the ground, and shut the door. ----I have left _Trim_ my bowling-green, cried my uncle _Toby_. ----My father smiled. ------I have left him moreover a pension, continued my uncle _Toby_. ----My father looked grave. CHAPTER V Is this a fit time, said my father to himself, to talk of PENSIONS and GRENADIERS? CHAPTER VI When my uncle _Toby_ first mentioned the grenadier, my father, I said, fell down with his nose flat to the quilt, and as suddenly as if my uncle _Toby_ had shot him; but it was not added that every other limb and member of my father instantly relapsed with his nose into the same precise attitude in which he lay first described; so that when corporal _Trim_ left the room, and my father found himself disposed to rise off the bed--he had all the little preparatory movements to run over again, before he could do it. Attitudes are nothing, madam----’tis the transition from one attitude to another----like the preparation and resolution of the discord into harmony, which is all in all. For which reason my father played the same jig over again with his toe upon the floor----pushed the chamber-pot still a little farther within the valance--gave a hem--raised himself up upon his elbow--and was just beginning to address himself to my uncle _Toby_--when recollecting the unsuccessfulness of his first effort in that attitude----he got upon his legs, and in making the third turn across the room, he stopped short before my uncle _Toby_: and laying the three first fingers of his right-hand in the palm of his left, and stooping a little, he addressed himself to my uncle _Toby_ as follows: CHAPTER VII