Landen .—Poor Trim got his wound there, quoth my uncle Toby .⸺’Twas owing, an’ please your honour, entirely to count Solmes ,⸺had he drubb’d them soundly at Steenkirk , they would not have fought us at Landen .⸺Possibly not,⸺ Trim , said my uncle Toby ;⸺though if they have the advantage of a wood, or you give them a moment’s time to intrench themselves, they are a nation which will pop and pop forever at you.⸺There is no way but to march coolly up to them,⸺receive their fire, and fall in upon them, pell-mell⸺Ding dong, added Trim .⸺Horse and foot, said my uncle Toby .⸺Helter skelter, said Trim .⸺Right and left, cried my uncle Toby .⸺Blood an’ ounds, shouted the corporal;⸺the battle raged,⸺ Yorick drew his chair a little to one side for safety, and after a moment’s pause, my uncle Toby sinking his voice a note,—resumed the discourse as follows.
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