news of my brother’s death, so that before my father had well got over his surprise, and entered upon this harangue,—had Trim got upon his legs, to speak his sentiments upon the subject.
A curious observer of nature, had he been worth the inventory of all Job’s stock—though by the by, your curious observers are seldom worth a groat —would have given the half of it, to have heard Corporal Trim and my father, two orators so contrasted by nature and education, haranguing over the same bier.
My father—a man of deep reading—prompt memory—with Cato , and Seneca , and Epictetus , at his fingers ends.—
The corporal—with nothing—to remember—of no deeper reading than his muster-roll—or greater names at his fingers end, than the contents of it.
The one proceeding from period to period, by metaphor and allusion, and striking the fancy as he went along (as men of wit and fancy do) with the entertainment and pleasantry of his pictures and images.
The other, without wit or antithesis, or point, or turn, this way or that; but leaving the images on one side, and the picture on the other, going straight forwards as nature could lead him, to the heart. O Trim! would to heaven thou had’st a better historian!—would thy historian had a better pair of breeches!⸺O ye critics! will nothing melt you?