It was some time in the summer of that year in which _Dendermond_ was taken by the allies, --which was about seven years before my father came into the country, --and about as many, after the time, that my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ had privately decamped from my father's house in town, in order to lay some of the finest sieges to some of the finest fortified cities in _Europe_----when my uncle _Toby_ was one evening getting his supper, with _Trim_ sitting behind him at a small sideboard, --I say, sitting--for in consideration of the corporal's lame knee (which sometimes gave him exquisite pain)--when my uncle _Toby_ dined or supped alone, he would never suffer the corporal to stand; and the poor fellow's veneration for his master was such, that, with a proper artillery, my uncle _Toby_ could have taken _Dendermond_ itself, with less trouble than he was able to gain this point over him; for many a time when my uncle _Toby_ supposed the corporal's leg was at rest, he would look back, and detect him standing behind him with the most dutiful respect: this bred more little squabbles betwixt them, than all other causes for five-and-twenty years together --But this is neither here nor there--why do I mention it? ----Ask my pen, --it governs me, --I govern not it.
He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour, with an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or two of sack; 'Tis for a poor gentleman, --I think, of the army, said the landlord, who has been taken ill at my house four days ago, and has never held up his head since, or had a desire to taste anything, till just now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack and a thin toast, ----_I think_, says he, taking his hand from his forehead, _it would comfort me_.
----If I could neither beg, borrow, or buy such a thing--added the landlord, --I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so ill. ----I hope in God he will still mend, continued he, --we are all of us concerned for him.
Thou art a good-natured soul, I will answer for thee, cried my uncle _Toby_; and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass of sack thyself, --and take a couple of bottles with my service, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good.
Though I am persuaded, said my uncle _Toby_, as the landlord shut the door, he is a very compassionate fellow--_Trim_, --yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his guest too; there must be something more than common in him, that in so short a time should win so much upon the affections of his host; ----And of his whole family, added the corporal, for they are all concerned for him. ----Step after him, said my uncle _Toby_, --do, _Trim_, --and ask if he knows his name.
----I have quite forgot it truly, said the landlord, coming back into the parlour with the corporal, --but I can ask his son again: ----Has he a son with him then? said my uncle _Toby_. --A boy, replied the landlord, of about eleven or twelve years of age; --but the poor creature has tasted almost as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn and lament for him night and day: ----He has not stirred from the bed-side these two days.
My uncle _Toby_ laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate from before him, as the landlord gave him the account; and _Trim_, without being ordered, took away, without saying one word, and in a few minutes after brought him his pipe and tobacco.
----Stay in the room a little, said my uncle _Toby_.
_Trim!_----said my uncle _Toby_, after he lighted his pipe, and smoak'd about a dozen whiffs. ----_Trim_ came in front of his master, and made his bow; --my uncle _Toby_ smoak'd on, and said no more. ----Corporal! said my uncle _Toby_----the corporal made his bow. ----My uncle _Toby_ proceeded no farther, but finished his pipe.
_Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, I have a project in my head, as it is a bad night, of wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure, and paying a visit to this poor gentleman. ----Your honour's roquelaure, replied the corporal, has not once been had on, since the night before your honour received your wound, when we mounted guard in the trenches before the gate of St. _Nicolas_; ----and besides, it is so cold and rainy a night, that what with the roquelaure, and what with the weather, 'twill be enough to give your honour your death, and bring on your honour's torment in your groin. I fear so, replied my uncle _Toby_; but I am not at rest in my mind, _Trim_, since the account the landlord has given me. ----I wish I had not known so much of this affair, --added my uncle _Toby_, --or that I had known more of it: ----How shall we manage it? Leave it, an't please your honour, to me, quoth the corporal; ----I'll take my hat and stick and go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour. ----Thou shalt go, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his servant. ----I shall get it all out of him, said the corporal, shutting the door.
My uncle _Toby_ filled his second pipe; and had it not been, that he now and then wandered from the point, with considering whether it was not full as well to have the curtain of the tenaille a straight line, as a crooked one, --he might be said to have thought of nothing else but poor _Le Fever_ and his boy the whole time he smoaked it.

It was in the summer of that year in which Dendermond was taken by the allies, which was about seven years after my uncle Toby and Trim had gone into the country to lay siege upon the bowling-green to some of the finest fortified cities in Europe.
My uncle Toby was one evening at home having his supper, with Trim sitting behind him - for in consideration of the corporal's lame and painful knee, when my uncle Toby dined, he would never allow the corporal to stand; and the poor fellow's veneration for his master was such that my uncle Toby had some trouble in maintaining this point; for often he would look back and see the corporal standing behind him with the most dutiful respect: this bred more little squabbles betwixt them, than all other causes in five-and-twenty years-
But this is neither here nor there. Why do I mention it? Ask my pen, it governs me - I govern not it.
He was one evening sitting thus at his supper, when the landlord of a little inn in the village came into the parlour, with an empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass of sherry.
''Tis for a poor gentleman - I think, of the army,' said the landlord, 'who was taken ill at my house four days ago, and has had no desire to taste anything, till just now, when he took a fancy for a glass of sherry and thin toast. If I could not beg it, I would almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he is so ill. We are all of us concerned for him.'
'Thou art a good-natured soul,' cried my uncle Toby; 'and thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health in a glass thyself: take a couple of bottles, and tell him he is heartily welcome to them, and to a dozen more if they will do him good.'
As the landlord shut the door, my uncle said to Trim: 'I am sure he is a very compassionate fellow, Trim - yet I cannot help thinking that there must be something uncommon in his guest, too, to make the landlord and his family care so much for him. Step after him, Trim, do; and ask if he knows his name.'
'I have quite forgot it, truly,' said the landlord, on returning with the corporal, 'but I can ask his son. He has a boy of eleven or twelve years of age; - but the poor creature has eaten as little as his father; he does nothing but mourn for him, and has not stirred from the bedside these two days.'
My uncle Toby laid down his knife and fork, and thrust his plate away. Trim brought him his pipe and tobacco.
'Stay a little,' said my uncle Toby, lighting his pipe. After he had smoked about a dozen whiffs, he said,
'Trim! As it is a bad night, I am thinking of wrapping myself up in my cloak, and paying a visit to this poor gentleman.'
'Your honour has not worn your cloak,' replied the corporal, 'since the night before your honour received your wound; and it is so cold and rainy a night, that even with the cloak, 'twill bring on your honour's torment in your groin.'
'I fear so,' replied my uncle Toby; 'but I am not at rest in my mind, Trim, since the landlord's account.'
'Leave it to me, your honour,' quoth the corporal. 'I'll go to the house and reconnoitre, and act accordingly; and I will bring your honour a full account in an hour.'
'Go, Trim,' said my uncle; 'here's a shilling for thee to drink with his servant.'
'I shall get it all out of him,' said the corporal, shutting the door.
My uncle Toby filled his second pipe; and apart from wondering whether a fortified outwork was as well in a straight line, as a crooked one, - he might be said to have thought of nothing but poor Le Fever and his boy the whole time he smoked it.

Book 6 - Chapter 6: THE STORY OF LE FEVER


------How could you, Madam, be so inattentive in reading the last chapter? I told you in it, _That my mother was not a papist_. ----Papist! You told me no such thing, Sir. --Madam, I beg leave to repeat it over again, that I told you as plain, at least, as words, by direct inference, could tell you such a thing. --Then, Sir, I must have miss'd a page. --No, Madam, --you have not miss'd a word. ----Then I was asleep, Sir. --My pride, Madam, cannot allow you that refuge. ----Then, I declare, I know nothing at all about the matter. --That, Madam, is the very fault I lay to your charge; and as a punishment for it, I do insist upon it, that you immediately turn back, that is, as soon as you get to the next full stop, and read the whole chapter over again. I have imposed this penance upon the lady, neither out of wantonness nor cruelty; but from the best of motives; and therefore shall make her no apology for it when she returns back: --'Tis to rebuke a vicious taste, which has crept into thousands besides herself, --of reading straight forwards, more in quest of the adventures, than of the deep erudition and knowledge which a book of this cast, if read over as it should be, would infallibly impart with them ----The mind should be accustomed to make wise reflections, and draw curious conclusions as it goes along; the habitude of which made _Pliny_ the younger affirm, "That he never read a book so bad, but he drew some profit from it." The stories of _Greece_ and _Rome_, run over without this turn and application, --do less service, I affirm it, than the history of _Parismus_ and _Parismenus_, or of the Seven Champions of _England_, read with it.
------But here comes my fair lady. Have you read over again the chapter, Madam, as I desired you? --You have: And did you not observe the passage, upon the second reading, which admits the inference? ----Not a word like it! Then, Madam, be pleased to ponder well the last line but one of the chapter, where I take upon me to say, "It was _necessary_ I should be born before I was christen'd." Had my mother, Madam, been a Papist, that consequence did not follow.[1.1]
It is a terrible misfortune for this same book of mine, but more so to the Republick of letters; --so that my own is quite swallowed up in the consideration of it, --that this selfsame vile pruriency for fresh adventures in all things, has got so strongly into our habit and humour, --and so wholly intent are we upon satisfying the impatience of our concupiscence that way, --that nothing but the gross and more carnal parts of a composition will go down: --The subtle hints and sly communications of science fly off, like spirits upwards, ----the heavy moral escapes downwards; and both the one and the other are as much lost to the world, as if they were still left in the bottom of the ink-horn.
I wish the male-reader has not pass'd by many a one, as quaint and curious as this one, in which the female-reader has been detected. I wish it may have its effects; --and that all good people, both male and female, from her example, may be taught to think as well as read.
MEMOIRE present Messieurs les Docteurs de SORBONNE[1.2]
_Un Chirurgien Accoucheur, represente Messieurs les Docteurs de SORBONNE, qu'il y a des cas, quoique trs rares, o une mere ne sauroit accoucher, & mme o l'enfant est tellement renferm dans le sein de sa mere, qu'il ne fait paritre aucune partie de son corps, ce qui seroit un cas, suivant les Rituels, de lui confrer, du moins sous condition, le baptme. Le Chirurgien, qui consulte, prtend, par le moyen d'une _petite canulle_, de pouvoir baptiser immediatement l'enfant, sans faire aucun tort la mere. ----Il demand si ce moyen, qu'il vient de proposer, est permis & lgitime, & s'il peut s'en servir dans les cas qu'il vient d'exposer._
[Footnote 1.1: The _Romish_ Rituals direct the baptizing of the child, in cases of danger, _before_ it is born; --but upon this proviso, That some part or other of the child's body be seen by the baptizer: ----But the Doctors of the _Sorbonne_, by a deliberation held amongst them, _April_ 10, 1733, --have enlarged the powers of the midwives, by determining, That though no part of the child's body should appear, ----that baptism shall, nevertheless, be administered to it by injection, --_par le moyen d'une petite canulle_, --Anglic _a squirt_. ----'Tis very strange that St. _Thomas Aquinas_, who had so good a mechanical head, both for tying and untying the knots of school-divinity, --should, after so much pains bestowed upon this, --give up the point at last, as a second _La chose impossible_, --"Infantes in maternis uteris existentes (quoth St. _Thomas!_) baptizari possunt _nullo modo_." --O _Thomas!_ _Thomas!_
If the reader has the curiosity to see the question upon baptism _by injection_, as presented to the Doctors of the _Sorbonne_, with their consultation thereupon, it is as follows.]
[Footnote 1.2: Vide Deventer, Paris edit., 4to, 1734, p. 366.]
REPONSE
_Le Conseil estime, que la question propose souffre de grandes difficults. Les Thologiens posent d'un ct pour principe, que le baptme, qui est une naissance spirituelle, suppose une premiere naissance; il faut tre n dans le monde, pour renatre en _Jesus Christ_, comme ils l'enseignent. _S. Thomas, 3 part, qust. 88, artic. II_, suit cette doctrine comme une verit constante; l'on ne peut, dit ce S. Docteur, baptiser les enfans qui sont renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, & _S. Thomas_ est fond sur ce, que les enfans ne sont point ns, & ne peuvent tre compts parmi les autres hommes; d'o il conclud, qu'ils ne peuvent tre l'objet d'une action extrieure, pour reevoir par leur ministre, les sacremens ncessaires au salut:_ Pueri in maternis uteris existentes nondum prodierunt in lucem ut cum aliis hominibus vitam ducant; unde non possunt subjici actioni human, ut per eorum ministerium sacramenta recipiant ad salutem. _Les rituels ordonnent dans la pratique ce que les thologiens ont tabli sur les mmes matires, & ils deffendent tous d'une manire uniforme, de baptiser les enfans qui sont renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, s'ils ne font parotre quelque partie de leurs corps. Le concours des thologiens, & des rituels, qui sont les rgles des diocses, paroit former une autorit qui termine la question presente; cependant le conseil de conscience considerant d'un ct, que le raisonnement des thologiens est uniquement fond sur une raison de convenance, & que la deffense des rituels suppose que l'on ne peut baptiser immediatement les enfans ainsi renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente; & d'un autre ct, considerant que les mmes thologiens enseignent, que l'on peut risquer les sacremens que _Jesus Christ_ a tablis comme des moyens faciles, mais ncessaires pour sanctifier les hommes; & d'ailleurs estimant, que les enfans renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient tre capables de salut, parcequ'ils sont capables de damnation; --pour ces considerations, & en egard l'expos, suivant lequel on assure avoir trouv un moyen certain de baptiser ces enfans ainsi renferms, sans faire aucun tort la mere, le Conseil estime que l'on pourroit se servir du moyen propos, dans la confiance qu'il a, que Dieu n'a point laiss ces sortes d'enfans sans aucuns secours, & supposant, comme il est expos, que le moyen dont il s'agit est propre leur procurer le baptme; cependant comme il s'agiroit, en autorisant la pratique propose, de changer une regie universellement tablie, le Conseil croit que celui qui consulte doit s'addresser son evque, & qui il appartient de juger de l'utilit, & du danger du moyen propos, & comme, sous le bon plaisir de l'evque, le Conseil estime qu'il faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le droit d'expliquer les rgles de l'eglise, & d'y droger dans le cas, ou la loi ne sauroit obliger, quelque sage & quelque utile que paroisse la manire de baptiser dont il s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit l'approuver sans le concours de ces deux autorits. On conseile au moins celui qui consulte, de s'addresser son evque, & de lui faire part de la presente dcision, afin que, si le prelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussigns s'appuyent, il puisse tre autoris dans le cas de ncessit, ou il risqueroit trop d'attendre que la permission ft demande & accorde d'employer le moyen qu'il propose si avantageux au salut de l'enfant. Au reste, le Conseil, en estimant que l'on pourroit s'en servir, croit cependant, que si les enfans dont il s'agit, venoient au monde, contre l'esperance de ceux qui se seroient servis du mme moyen, il seroit ncessaire de les baptiser sous condition; & en cela le Conseil se conforme tous les rituels, qui en autorisant le baptme d'un enfant qui fait parotre quelque partie de son corps, enjoignent nantmoins, & ordonnent de le baptiser sous condition, s'il vient heureusement au monde._
Deliber en _Sorbonne_, le 10 _Avril_, 1733.
A. LE MOYNE. L. DE ROMIGNY. DE MARCILLY.
Mr. _Tristram Shandy's_ compliments to Messrs. _Le Moyne_, _De Romigny_, and _De Marcilly_; hopes they all rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation. --He begs to know, whether after the ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation, the baptizing all the HOMUNCULI at once, slapdash, by _injection_, would not be a shorter and safer cut still; on condition, as above, That if the HOMUNCULI do well, and come safe into the world after this, that each and every of them shall be baptized again (_sous condition_) ----And provided, in the second place, That the thing can be done, which _Mr. Shandy_ apprehends it may, _par le moyen d'une petite canulle_, and _sans faire aucun tort au pere_.

How could you, Madam, be so inattentive? I told you in that last chapter, that my mother was not a papist.
- Papist! You told me no such thing, Sir.
- Madam, I repeat that I told you as plain as words could tell.
- Then I must have missed a page.
- No, Madam, you have not missed a word.
- Then I was asleep, Sir.
- No, Madam. I insist that you immediately turn back, and read the whole chapter over again.
I have imposed this penance upon the lady, not out of cruelty; but from the best of motives; and therefore make her no apology. 'Tis to rebuke a vicious taste which has crept into thousands besides herself, of reading more in quest of the adventures, than of the deep knowledge which a book of this type should impart. The reader should be accustomed to make wise reflections as he goes; a habit which made Pliny the younger affirm, 'That he never read a book so bad that he could not draw some profit from it.'
But here comes my fair lady. - Have you read over again the chapter, Madam, as I asked? You have: And did you not observe the passage? No? Then, Madam, please ponder well the last line but one, where I say, 'It was necessary I should be born before I was christened.' Had my mother, Madam, been a Papist, that consequence would not follow.
- For the Romish rituals direct the baptising of the child, if it is in danger, before it is born; and the Doctors of the Sorbonne have determined that baptism may be administered to the unborn child by injection, using une petite canulle - or in English, a squirt. ('Tis very strange that St. Thomas Aquinas should have rejected this possibility. - 'Infantes in maternis uteris existentes,' quoth he, 'baptizari possunt nullo modo.' - O Thomas! Thomas!)
It is a terrible misfortune for this book of mine - as for all literature - that the vile lust for fresh adventures has got so strongly into our habit. So intent are we upon satisfying the impatience of our desire that nothing but the gross and carnal parts of a book go in. Subtle hints fly off like spirits upwards; the heavy moral escapes downwards; and both are as much lost to the world, as if they were left in the bottom of the ink-well.
I wish that from this reader's example, all good people may be taught to think as well as read.
If the reader is curious to see the question upon baptism by injection, as presented to the Doctors of the Sorbonne, with their response thereupon, it is as follows.
(Note: A translation from the French by the abridger follows each section below:)
MEMOIRE present Messieurs les Docteurs de SORBONNE . [Vide Deventer, Paris edit., 4to, 1734, p. 366.]
Un Chirurgien Accoucheur, represente Messieurs les Docteurs de SORBONNE, qu'il y a des cas, quoique trs rares, o une mere ne sauroit accoucher, & mme o l'enfant est tellement renferm dans le sein de sa mere, qu'il ne fait paritre aucune partie de son corps, ce qui seroit un cas, suivant les Rituels, de lui confrer, du moins sous condition, le baptme. Le Chirurgien, qui consulte, prtend, par le moyen d'une petite canulle, de pouvoir baptiser immediatement l'enfant, sans faire aucun tort la mere. Il demand si ce moyen, qu'il vient de proposer, est permis & lgitime, & s'il peut s'en servir dans les cas qu'il vient d'exposer.
(Translation: A baby may be baptised before it is born, in certain cases, by means of a little tube.)
RESPONSE
Le Conseil estime, que la question propose souffre de grandes difficults. Les Thologiens posent d'un ct pour principe, que le baptme, qui est une naissance spirituelle, suppose une premiere naissance; il faut tre n dans le monde, pour renatre en Jesus Christ, comme ils l'enseignent. S. Thomas, 3 part, qust. 88, artic. II, suit cette doctrine comme une verit constante; l'on ne peut, dit ce S. Docteur, baptiser les enfans qui sont renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, & S. Thomas est fond sur ce, que les enfans ne sont point ns, & ne peuvent tre compts parmi les autres hommes; d'o il conclud, qu'ils ne peuvent tre l'objet d'une action extrieure, pour reevoir par leur ministre, les sacremens ncessaires au salut: Pueri in maternis uteris existentes nondum prodierunt in lucem ut cum aliis hominibus vitam ducant; unde non possunt subjici actioni human, ut per eorum ministerium sacramenta recipiant ad salutem. Les rituels ordonnent dans la pratique ce que les thologiens ont tabli sur les mmes matires, & ils deffendent tous d'une manire uniforme, de baptiser les enfans qui sont renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, s'ils ne font parotre quelque partie de leurs corps. Le concours des thologiens, & des rituels, qui sont les rgles des diocses, paroit former une autorit qui termine la question presente; cependant le conseil de conscience considerant d'un ct, que le raisonnement des thologiens est uniquement fond sur une raison de convenance, & que la deffense des rituels suppose que l'on ne peut baptiser immediatement les enfans ainsi renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente; & d'un autre ct, considerant que les mmes thologiens enseignent, que l'on peut risquer les sacremens que Jesus Christ a tablis comme des moyens faciles, mais ncessaires pour sanctifier les hommes; & d'ailleurs estimant, que les enfans renferms dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient tre capables de salut, parcequ'ils sont capables de damnation; -pour ces considerations, & en egard l'expos, suivant lequel on assure avoir trouv un moyen certain de baptiser ces enfans ainsi renferms, sans faire aucun tort la mere, le Conseil estime que l'on pourroit se servir du moyen propos, dans la confiance qu'il a, que Dieu n'a point laiss ces sortes d'enfans sans aucuns secours, & supposant, comme il est expos, que le moyen dont il s'agit est propre leur procurer le baptme; cependant comme il s'agiroit, en autorisant la pratique propose, de changer une regie universellement tablie, le Conseil croit que celui qui consulte doit s'addresser son evque, & qui il appartient de juger de l'utilit, & du danger du moyen propos, & comme, sous le bon plaisir de l'evque, le Conseil estime qu'il faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le droit d'expliquer les rgles de l'eglise, & d'y droger dans le cas, ou la loi ne sauroit obliger, quelque sage & quelque utile que paroisse la manire de baptiser dont il s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit l'approuver sans le concours de ces deux autorits. On conseile au moins celui qui consulte, de s'addresser son evque, & de lui faire part de la presente dcision, afin que, si le prelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussigns s'appuyent, il puisse tre autoris dans le cas de ncessit, ou il risqueroit trop d'attendre que la permission ft demande & accorde d'employer le moyen qu'il propose si avantageux au salut de l'enfant.
(Translation: No! If a child is not born it cannot be baptised. Though if you really must, perhaps it can.)
Sorbonne, le 10 Avril, 1733.
A. LE MOYNE.
L. DE ROMIGNY.
DE MARCILLY.
Mr. Tristram Shandy's compliments to Messrs. Le Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly; he hopes they rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation. He begs to know whether after the ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation, the baptizing of all the Homunculi at once, slapdash, by injection, would not be a shorter and safer cut still; if they come safe into the world after this, they shall be baptized again.
- Provided that the thing can be done, which Mr. Shandy believes it may, par le moyen d'une petite canulle, and sans faire aucun tort au pere (by means of a tiny tube, and without doing any damage to the father.)


When Jos's fine carriage drove up to the inn door at Chatham, the first face which Amelia recognized was the friendly countenance of Captain Dobbin, who had been pacing the street for an hour past in expectation of his friends' arrival. The Captain, with shells on his frockcoat, and a crimson sash and sabre, presented a military appearance, which made Jos quite proud to be able to claim such an acquaintance, and the stout civilian hailed him with a cordiality very different from the reception which Jos vouchsafed to his friend in Brighton and Bond Street.
Along with the Captain was Ensign Stubble; who, as the barouche neared the inn, burst out with an exclamation of "By Jove! what a pretty girl"; highly applauding Osborne's choice. Indeed, Amelia dressed in her wedding-pelisse and pink ribbons, with a flush in her face, occasioned by rapid travel through the open air, looked so fresh and pretty, as fully to justify the Ensign's compliment. Dobbin liked him for making it. As he stepped forward to help the lady out of the carriage, Stubble saw what a pretty little hand she gave him, and what a sweet pretty little foot came tripping down the step. He blushed profusely, and made the very best bow of which he was capable; to which Amelia, seeing the number of the the regiment embroidered on the Ensign's cap, replied with a blushing smile, and a curtsey on her part; which finished the young Ensign on the spot. Dobbin took most kindly to Mr. Stubble from that day, and encouraged him to talk about Amelia in their private walks, and at each other's quarters. It became the fashion, indeed, among all the honest young fellows of the --th to adore and admire Mrs. Osborne. Her simple artless behaviour, and modest kindness of demeanour, won all their unsophisticated hearts; all which simplicity and sweetness are quite impossible to describe in print. But who has not beheld these among women, and recognised the presence of all sorts of qualities in them, even though they say no more to you than that they are engaged to dance the next quadrille, or that it is very hot weather? George, always the champion of his regiment, rose immensely in the opinion of the youth of the corps, by his gallantry in marrying this portionless young creature, and by his choice of such a pretty kind partner.
In the sitting-room which was awaiting the travellers, Amelia, to her surprise, found a letter addressed to Mrs. Captain Osborne. It was a triangular billet, on pink paper, and sealed with a dove and an olive branch, and a profusion of light blue sealing wax, and it was written in a very large, though undecided female hand.
"It's Peggy O'Dowd's fist," said George, laughing. "I know it by the kisses on the seal." And in fact, it was a note from Mrs. Major O'Dowd, requesting the pleasure of Mrs. Osborne's company that very evening to a small friendly party. "You must go," George said. "You will make acquaintance with the regiment there. O'Dowd goes in command of the regiment, and Peggy goes in command."
But they had not been for many minutes in the enjoyment of Mrs. O'Dowd's letter, when the door was flung open, and a stout jolly lady, in a riding-habit, followed by a couple of officers of Ours, entered the room.
"Sure, I couldn't stop till tay-time. Present me, Garge, my dear fellow, to your lady. Madam, I'm deloighted to see ye; and to present to you me husband, Meejor O'Dowd"; and with this, the jolly lady in the riding-habit grasped Amelia's hand very warmly, and the latter knew at once that the lady was before her whom her husband had so often laughed at. "You've often heard of me from that husband of yours," said the lady, with great vivacity.
"You've often heard of her," echoed her husband, the Major.
Amelia answered, smiling, "that she had."
"And small good he's told you of me," Mrs. O'Dowd replied; adding that "George was a wicked divvle."
"That I'll go bail for," said the Major, trying to look knowing, at which George laughed; and Mrs. O'Dowd, with a tap of her whip, told the Major to be quiet; and then requested to be presented in form to Mrs. Captain Osborne.
"This, my dear," said George with great gravity, "is my very good, kind, and excellent friend, Auralia Margaretta, otherwise called Peggy."
"Faith, you're right," interposed the Major.
"Otherwise called Peggy, lady of Major Michael O'Dowd, of our regiment, and daughter of Fitzjurld Ber'sford de Burgo Malony of Glenmalony, County Kildare."
"And Muryan Squeer, Doblin," said the lady with calm superiority.
"And Muryan Square, sure enough," the Major whispered.
"'Twas there ye coorted me, Meejor dear," the lady said; and the Major assented to this as to every other proposition which was made generally in company.
Major O'Dowd, who had served his sovereign in every quarter of the world, and had paid for every step in his profession by some more than equivalent act of daring and gallantry, was the most modest, silent, sheep-faced and meek of little men, and as obedient to his wife as if he had been her tay-boy. At the mess-table he sat silently, and drank a great deal. When full of liquor, he reeled silently home. When he spoke, it was to agree with everybody on every conceivable point; and he passed through life in perfect ease and good-humour. The hottest suns of India never heated his temper; and the Walcheren ague never shook it. He walked up to a battery with just as much indifference as to a dinner-table; had dined on horse-flesh and turtle with equal relish and appetite; and had an old mother, Mrs. O'Dowd of O'Dowdstown indeed, whom he had never disobeyed but when he ran away and enlisted, and when he persisted in marrying that odious Peggy Malony.
Peggy was one of five sisters, and eleven children of the noble house of Glenmalony; but her husband, though her own cousin, was of the mother's side, and so had not the inestimable advantage of being allied to the Malonys, whom she believed to be the most famous family in the world. Having tried nine seasons at Dublin and two at Bath and Cheltenham, and not finding a partner for life, Miss Malony ordered her cousin Mick to marry her when she was about thirty-three years of age; and the honest fellow obeying, carried her off to the West Indies, to preside over the ladies of the --th regiment, into which he had just exchanged.
Before Mrs. O'Dowd was half an hour in Amelia's (or indeed in anybody else's) company, this amiable lady told all her birth and pedigree to her new friend. "My dear," said she, good-naturedly, "it was my intention that Garge should be a brother of my own, and my sister Glorvina would have suited him entirely. But as bygones are bygones, and he was engaged to yourself, why, I'm determined to take you as a sister instead, and to look upon you as such, and to love you as one of the family. Faith, you've got such a nice good-natured face and way widg you, that I'm sure we'll agree; and that you'll be an addition to our family anyway."
"'Deed and she will," said O'Dowd, with an approving air, and Amelia felt herself not a little amused and grateful to be thus suddenly introduced to so large a party of relations.
"We're all good fellows here," the Major's lady continued. "There's not a regiment in the service where you'll find a more united society nor a more agreeable mess-room. There's no quarrelling, bickering, slandthering, nor small talk amongst us. We all love each other."
"Especially Mrs. Magenis," said George, laughing.
"Mrs. Captain Magenis and me has made up, though her treatment of me would bring me gray hairs with sorrow to the grave."
"And you with such a beautiful front of black, Peggy, my dear," the Major cried.
"Hould your tongue, Mick, you booby. Them husbands are always in the way, Mrs. Osborne, my dear; and as for my Mick, I often tell him he should never open his mouth but to give the word of command, or to put meat and drink into it. I'll tell you about the regiment, and warn you when we're alone. Introduce me to your brother now; sure he's a mighty fine man, and reminds me of me cousin, Dan Malony (Malony of Ballymalony, my dear, you know who mar'ied Ophalia Scully, of Oystherstown, own cousin to Lord Poldoody). Mr. Sedley, sir, I'm deloighted to be made known te ye. I suppose you'll dine at the mess to-day. (Mind that divvle of a docther, Mick, and whatever ye du, keep yourself sober for me party this evening.)"
"It's the 150th gives us a farewell dinner, my love," interposed the Major, "but we'll easy get a card for Mr. Sedley."
"Run Simple (Ensign Simple, of Ours, my dear Amelia. I forgot to introjuice him to ye). Run in a hurry, with Mrs. Major O'Dowd's compliments to Colonel Tavish, and Captain Osborne has brought his brothernlaw down, and will bring him to the 150th mess at five o'clock sharp--when you and I, my dear, will take a snack here, if you like." Before Mrs. O'Dowd's speech was concluded, the young Ensign was trotting downstairs on his commission.
"Obedience is the soul of the army. We will go to our duty while Mrs. O'Dowd will stay and enlighten you, Emmy," Captain Osborne said; and the two gentlemen, taking each a wing of the Major, walked out with that officer, grinning at each other over his head.
And, now having her new friend to herself, the impetuous Mrs. O'Dowd proceeded to pour out such a quantity of information as no poor little woman's memory could ever tax itself to bear. She told Amelia a thousand particulars relative to the very numerous family of which the amazed young lady found herself a member. "Mrs. Heavytop, the Colonel's wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart comboined, for the horrud old Colonel, with a head as bald as a cannon-ball, was making sheep's eyes at a half-caste girl there. Mrs. Magenis, though without education, was a good woman, but she had the divvle's tongue, and would cheat her own mother at whist. Mrs. Captain Kirk must turn up her lobster eyes forsooth at the idea of an honest round game (wherein me fawther, as pious a man as ever went to church, me uncle Dane Malony, and our cousin the Bishop, took a hand at loo, or whist, every night of their lives). Nayther of 'em's goin' with the regiment this time," Mrs. O'Dowd added. "Fanny Magenis stops with her mother, who sells small coal and potatoes, most likely, in Islington-town, hard by London, though she's always bragging of her father's ships, and pointing them out to us as they go up the river: and Mrs. Kirk and her children will stop here in Bethesda Place, to be nigh to her favourite preacher, Dr. Ramshorn. Mrs. Bunny's in an interesting situation--faith, and she always is, then--and has given the Lieutenant seven already. And Ensign Posky's wife, who joined two months before you, my dear, has quarl'd with Tom Posky a score of times, till you can hear'm all over the bar'ck (they say they're come to broken pleets, and Tom never accounted for his black oi), and she'll go back to her mother, who keeps a ladies' siminary at Richmond--bad luck to her for running away from it! Where did ye get your finishing, my dear? I had moin, and no expince spared, at Madame Flanahan's, at Ilyssus Grove, Booterstown, near Dublin, wid a Marchioness to teach us the true Parisian pronunciation, and a retired Mejor-General of the French service to put us through the exercise."
Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself all of a sudden a member: with Mrs. O'Dowd as an elder sister. She was presented to her other female relations at tea-time, on whom, as she was quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made rather an agreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen from the mess of the 150th, who all admired her so, that her sisters began, of course, to find fault with her.
"I hope Osborne has sown his wild oats," said Mrs. Magenis to Mrs. Bunny. "If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure it's she will have the fine chance with Garge," Mrs. O'Dowd remarked to Posky, who had lost her position as bride in the regiment, and was quite angry with the usurper. And as for Mrs. Kirk: that disciple of Dr. Ramshorn put one or two leading professional questions to Amelia, to see whether she was awakened, whether she was a professing Christian and so forth, and finding from the simplicity of Mrs. Osborne's replies that she was yet in utter darkness, put into her hands three little penny books with pictures, viz., the "Howling Wilderness," the "Washerwoman of Wandsworth Common," and the "British Soldier's best Bayonet," which, bent upon awakening her before she slept, Mrs. Kirk begged Amelia to read that night ere she went to bed.
But all the men, like good fellows as they were, rallied round their comrade's pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly gallantry. She had a little triumph, which flushed her spirits and made her eyes sparkle. George was proud of her popularity, and pleased with the manner (which was very gay and graceful, though naive and a little timid) with which she received the gentlemen's attentions, and answered their compliments. And he in his uniform--how much handsomer he was than any man in the room! She felt that he was affectionately watching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness. "I will make all his friends welcome," she resolved in her heart. "I will love all as I love him. I will always try and be gay and good-humoured and make his home happy."
The regiment indeed adopted her with acclamation. The Captains approved, the Lieutenants applauded, the Ensigns admired. Old Cutler, the Doctor, made one or two jokes, which, being professional, need not be repeated; and Cackle, the Assistant M.D. of Edinburgh, condescended to examine her upon leeterature, and tried her with his three best French quotations. Young Stubble went about from man to man whispering, "Jove, isn't she a pretty gal?" and never took his eyes off her except when the negus came in.
As for Captain Dobbin, he never so much as spoke to her during the whole evening. But he and Captain Porter of the 150th took home Jos to the hotel, who was in a very maudlin state, and had told his tiger-hunt story with great effect, both at the mess-table and at the soiree, to Mrs. O'Dowd in her turban and bird of paradise. Having put the Collector into the hands of his servant, Dobbin loitered about, smoking his cigar before the inn door. George had meanwhile very carefully shawled his wife, and brought her away from Mrs. O'Dowd's after a general handshaking from the young officers, who accompanied her to the fly, and cheered that vehicle as it drove off. So Amelia gave Dobbin her little hand as she got out of the carriage, and rebuked him smilingly for not having taken any notice of her all night.
The Captain continued that deleterious amusement of smoking, long after the inn and the street were gone to bed. He watched the lights vanish from George's sitting-room windows, and shine out in the bedroom close at hand. It was almost morning when he returned to his own quarters. He could hear the cheering from the ships in the river, where the transports were already taking in their cargoes preparatory to dropping down the Thames.

When Jos's carriage drove Amelia to the inn at Chatham, the first face she recognized was Captain Dobbin's. He had been pacing the street for an hour waiting for his friends' arrival. The Captain, with a crimson sash and sabre, had such a military appearance that Jos was quite proud to claim acquaintance with him, and he hailed him much more cordially than he had in London.
With the Captain was Ensign Stubble; who, as the barouche approached, exclaimed "By Jove! what a pretty girl!"
Indeed, Amelia, dressed in her wedding-pelisse, flushed with travel and the open air, looked so fresh and pretty as fully to justify the Ensign's compliment. Dobbin liked him for making it. As he helped her out of the carriage, Stubble saw what a pretty little hand she gave him, and what a sweet little foot came tripping down the step. He blushed profusely, and made his very best bow; to which Amelia replied with a smile and a curtsey which finished the young Ensign on the spot.
Dobbin took most kindly to Mr. Stubble from that day, and encouraged him to talk about Amelia. It became the fashion, indeed, among all the honest young fellows of the Regiment to admire Mrs. Osborne. Her artless behaviour and modest kindness won their unsophisticated hearts. George, always the champion of his regiment, rose immensely in their opinion by his gallantry in marrying this portionless, pretty young creature.
On her arrival, Amelia, to her surprise, found a letter addressed to her. It was on pink paper, and sealed with a dove and an olive branch, and a profusion of light blue sealing wax, and it was written in a very large female hand.
"It's Peggy O'Dowd's writing," said George, laughing. And indeed it was a note from Mrs. Major O'Dowd, requesting the pleasure of Mrs. Osborne's company that evening at a small party. "You must go," George said. "O'Dowd goes in command of the regiment, and Peggy just goes in command."
But minutes later the door was flung open, and a stout jolly lady in a riding-habit, followed by a couple of officers, entered the room.
"Sure, I couldn't stop till tay-time. Present me, Garge, my dear fellow, to your lady. Madam, I'm deloighted to see ye; and to present to you me husband, Meejor O'Dowd." The jolly lady grasped Amelia's hand very warmly. "You've often heard of me from that husband of yours," she said with vivacity.
"You've often heard of her," echoed her husband, the Major.
Amelia answered, smiling, that she had.
"And small good he's told you of me," Mrs. O'Dowd replied; adding that "George was a wicked divvle."
"This, my dear," said George, "is my very good excellent friend Auralia, otherwise called Peggy."
"Faith, you're right," interposed the Major.
"Lady of Major Michael O'Dowd, of our regiment, and daughter of Fitzjurld Ber'sford de Burgo Malony of Glenmalony, County Kildare."
"And Muryan Squeer, Doblin," said the lady with calm superiority.
"And Muryan Square, sure enough," the Major whispered.
"'Twas there ye coorted me, Meejor dear," the lady said; and the Major assented to this as to every other thing she said.
Major O'Dowd, who had served his sovereign gallantly in every quarter of the world, was the most modest and meek of little men, totally obedient to his wife. At the mess-table he sat silently, and drank a great deal. When full of liquor, he reeled silently home. When he spoke, it was to agree with everybody; and he passed through life in perfect good-humour. He had an old mother whom he had never disobeyed except when he ran away and enlisted, and when he married that odious Peggy Malony.
Peggy was one of eleven children of the noble house of Glenmalony; her husband was her cousin on her mother's side. Having tried nine seasons at Dublin and two at Bath without finding a husband, Miss Malony ordered her cousin Mick to marry her when she was about thirty-three; and the honest fellow obeyed.
Before Mrs. O'Dowd was half an hour in Amelia's (or indeed in anybody's) company, this amiable lady told all her pedigree to her new friend.
"My dear," said she, good-naturedly, "I meant for Garge to marry my sister Glorvina; she would have suited him entirely. But as he was engaged to yourself, I'm determined to love you as a sister. Faith, I'm sure you'll be an addition to our family."
"'Deed and she will," said O'Dowd, and Amelia felt amused and grateful to be thus suddenly introduced to so many relations.
"We're all good fellows in this regiment," the Major's lady continued. "There's no quarrelling, bickering, nor slandthering amongst us. We all love each other."
"Especially Mrs. Magenis," said George, laughing.
"Mrs. Captain Magenis and me has made up, though her treatment of me would bring me grey hairs."
"And you with such beautiful black locks, Peggy, my dear," the Major cried.
"Hould your tongue, Mick, you booby. Them husbands are always in the way, Mrs. Osborne, my dear; and I often tell my Mick he should never open his mouth but to give the word of command, or to put meat and drink into it. Introduce me to your brother now; sure he's a mighty fine man. Mr. Sedley, sir, I'm deloighted to be made known te ye. I suppose you'll dine at the mess today."
"It's a farewell dinner, my love," interposed the Major, "but we'll easy get a card for Mr. Sedley."
"Ensign Simple, run with Mrs. Major O'Dowd's compliments to Colonel Tavish, and Captain Osborne has brought his brothernlaw down, and will bring him to the mess at five o'clock." Before Mrs. O'Dowd's speech was concluded, the young Ensign was trotting downstairs.
"Obedience is the soul of the army. We will go to our duty while Mrs. O'Dowd will stay and enlighten you, Emmy," Captain Osborne said; and the two gentlemen walked out with the Major, grinning at each other.
And, now having her new friend to herself, Mrs. O'Dowd poured out such a quantity of information as no poor little woman's memory could bear. She told Amelia a thousand details of the regimental family.
"Mrs. Heavytop, the Colonel's wife, died in Jamaica of the yellow faver and a broken heart, for the horrud old Colonel was making sheep's eyes at a half-caste girl there. Mrs. Magenis, though without education, was a good woman, but she had the divvle's tongue, and would cheat her own mother at whist. Mrs. Captain Kirk turns up her lobster eyes at the idea of an honest game (although me father and me cousin the Bishop played whist every night of their lives). Mrs. Bunny's in an interesting situation - faith, she always is - and has given the Lieutenant seven already. And Ensign Posky's wife, who joined two months before you, my dear, has quarl'd with Tom Posky a score of times, till you can hear'm all over the barrack; and Tom's never accounted for his black oi, and she'll go back to her mother at Richmond."
Of this incongruous family our astonished Amelia found herself suddenly a member: with Mrs. O'Dowd as an elder sister. She was presented to her other female relations at tea-time; and being quiet, good-natured, and not too handsome, she made an agreeable impression until the arrival of the gentlemen, who all admired her; so that her sisters began, of course, to find fault with her.
"I hope Osborne has sown his wild oats," said Mrs. Magenis to Mrs. Bunny.
"If a reformed rake makes a good husband, sure she'll have a fine chance with Garge," said Mrs. O'Dowd.
But the men rallied round their comrade's pretty wife, and paid her their court with soldierly gallantry, making her eyes sparkle. George was proud of her popularity, and pleased with the graceful, gay manner with which she received the gentlemen's attentions. And he - so handsome in his uniform! She felt him watching her, and glowed with pleasure at his kindness.
"I will make all his friends welcome," she resolved. "I will always try and be gay and good-humoured and make his home happy."
The regiment indeed adopted her with acclaim. Young Stubble kept whispering, "Jove, isn't she a pretty gal?" and never took his eyes off her.
As for Captain Dobbin, he never spoke to her the whole evening. But he and Captain Porter took Jos, who was in a very maudlin state, back to the hotel. Having put him into the hands of his servant, Dobbin loitered about, smoking his cigar before the inn door. George had meanwhile brought his wife away from Mrs. O'Dowd's. Amelia gave Dobbin her hand as she got out of the carriage, and rebuked him smilingly for not having taken any notice of her all night.
The Captain kept smoking, long after everyone had gone to bed. He watched the lights vanish from George's sitting-room windows, and shine out in the bedroom. It was almost morning when he returned to his own quarters. He could hear the cheering from the ships in the river, where the transports were taking in their cargoes before moving down the Thames.

Chapter 27: In Which Amelia Joins Her Regiment