WHEN my father received the
letter which brought him the
melancholy account of my brother Bobby's
death, he was busy calculating the ex-
pence of his riding post from Calais to
Paris, and so on to Lyons.
'Twas a most inauspicious journey ;
my father having had every foot of it to
travel over again, and his calculation to
begin afresh, when he had almost got
VOL. V. C to
to the end of it, by Obadiah's opening
the door to acquaint him the family was
out of yeast -- and to ask whether he
might not take the great coach-horse
early in the morning, and ride in search
of some. -- With all my heart, Obadiah,
said my father, (pursuing his journey) --
take the coach-horse, and welcome. --
But he wants a shoe, poor creature ! said
Obadiah. -- Poor creature ! said my uncle
Toby, vibrating the note back again, like
a string in unison. Then ride the Scotch
horse, quoth my father hastily. -- He can-
not bear a saddle upon his back, quoth
Obadiah, for the whole world. ----
The devil's in that horse ; then take
PATRIOT, cried my father, and shut
the door. ---- PATRIOT is sold, said
Obadiah. -- Here's for you ! cried my fa-
ther, making a pause, and looking in
my uncle Toby's face, as if the thing had
not been a matter of fact. -- Your wor-
1 ship
ship ordered me to sell him last April,
said Obadiah. -- Then go on foot for your
pains, cried my father. -- I had much ra-
ther walk than ride, said Obadiah, shut-
ting the door.
What plagues ! cried my father, go-
ing on with his calculation. -- But the
waters are out, said Obadiah, -- opening
the door again.
Till that moment, my father, who
had a map of Sanson's, and a book of the
post roads before him, had kept his hand
upon the head of his compasses, with one
foot of them fixed upon Nevers, the last
stage he had paid for -- purposing to go
on from that point with his journey and
calculation, as soon as Obadiah quitted
the room ; but this second attack of Oba-
diah's, in opening the door and laying
the whole country under water, was too
much. -- He let go his compasses -- or ra-
C 2 ther
ther with a mixed motion betwixt acci-
dent and anger, he had set out.
When the letter was brought into the
parlour, which contained the news of
my brother's death, my father had got
forwards again upon his journey to with-
in a stride of the compasses of the very
same stage of Nevers. -- By your leave,
Mons. Sanson, cried my father, striking
the point of his compasses through Ne-
vers into the table, -- and nodding to my
uncle Toby, to see what was in the letter,
-- twice of one night is too much for an
English gentleman and his son, Mons.
Sanson, to be turned back from so lousy
a town as Nevers, -- what think'st thou,
Toby, added my father in a sprightly tone.
-- Unless it be a garrison town, said my
uncle Toby, -- for then -- I shall be a fool,
said
said my father, smiling to himself, as
long as I live. -- So giving a second nod
-- and keeping his compasses still upon
Nevers with one hand, and holding his
book of the post-roads in the other --
half calculating and half listening, he
leaned forwards upon the table with both
elbows, as my uncle Toby hummed over
the letter.
--- --- --- --- ---
--- --- --- --- --- ---
--- --- --- --- --- --- ---
--- --- --- --- --- --- he's gone !
said my uncle Toby. -- Where -- Who ?
cried my father. -- My nephew, said my
uncle Toby. ---- What -- without leave --
without money ---- without governor ?
cried my father in amazement. No : --
he is dead, my dear brother, quoth my
uncle Toby. -- Without being ill ? cried
my father again. -- I dare say not, said
my uncle Toby, in a low voice, and fetch-
ing a deep sigh from the bottom of his
C 3 heart,
heart, he has been ill enough, poor lad !
I'll answer for him -- for he is dead.
When Agrippina was told of her son's
death, Tacitus informs us, that not being
able to moderate the violence of her
passions, she abruptly broke off her work
-- My father stuck his compasses into
Nevers, but so much the faster. -- What
contrarieties ! his, indeed, was matter of
calculation -- Agrippina's must have been
quite a different affair ; who else could
pretend to reason from history ?
How my father went on, in my opi-
nion, deserves a chapter to itself. --
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