CHAPTER 19
BOOK VIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER 19Visible text2 paragraphs
It was a thousand pities -- -- -though I believe, an' please your honour, I am going to say but a foolish kind of a thing for a soldier -- -- -
A soldier, cried my uncle Toby, interrupting the corporal, is no more exempt from saying a foolish thing, Trim, than a man of letters -- -- -But not so often, an' please your honour, replied the corporal -- -- -My uncle Toby gave a nod.