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Chapter 9 To us, Jonathan, who know not what want or care iswho live here in the service of two of the best of masters(bating in my own case his majesty King William the Third, whom I had the honour to serve both in Ireland and Flanders)I own it, that from Whitsontide to within three weeks of Christmas,tis not longtis like nothing;but to those, Jonathan, who know what death is, and what havock and destruction he can make, before a man can well wheel abouttis like a whole age.O Jonathan! twould make a good-natured mans heart bleed, to consider, continued the corporal (standing perpendicularly), how low many a brave and upright fellow has been laid since that time!And trust me, Susy, added the corporal, turning to Susannah, whose eyes were swimming in water,before that time comes round again,many a bright eye will be dim.Susannah placed it to the right side of the pageshe weptbut she courtsied too.Are we not, continued Trim, looking still at Susannahare we not like a flower of the fielda tear of pride stole in betwixt every two tears of humiliation else no tongue could have described Susannahs afflictionis not all flesh grass?Tis clay,tis dirt.They all looked directly at the scullion, the scullion had just been scouring a fish-kettle.It was not fair. What is the finest face that ever man looked at!I could hear Trim talk so for ever, cried Susannah,what is it! (Susannah laid her hand upon Trims shoulder)but corruption?Susannah took it off. Now I love you for thisand tis this delicious mixture within you which makes you dear creatures what you areand he who hates you for itall I can say of the matter isThat he has either a pumpkin for his heador a pippin for his heart,and whenever he is dissected twill be found so. |
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