Chapter C: H a P. XL

THE city of _Limerick_, the siege of which was begun under his majesty king _William_ himself, the year after I went into the army—lies, an’ please your honours, in the middle of a devilish wet, swampy country.—’Tis quite surrounded, said my uncle _Toby_, with the _Shannon_, and is, by its situation, one of the strongest fortified places in _Ireland._——

I think this is a new fashion, quoth Dr. _Slop_, of beginning a medical lecture.—’Tis all true, answered _Trim._—Then I wish the faculty would follow the cut of it, said _Yorick._—’Tis all cut through, an’ please your reverence, said the corporal, with drains and bogs; and besides, there was such a quantity of rain fell during the siege, the whole country was like a puddle,—’twas that, and nothing else, which brought on the flux, and which had like to have killed both his honour and myself; now there was no such thing, after the first ten days, continued the corporal, for a soldier to lie dry in his tent, without cutting a ditch round it, to draw off the water;—nor was that enough, for those who could afford it, as his honour could, without setting fire every night to a pewter dish full of brandy, which took off the damp of the air, and made the inside of the tent as warm as a stove.——

And what conclusion dost thou draw, corporal _Trim_, cried my father, from all these premises?

I infer, an’ please your worship, replied _Trim_, that the radical moisture is nothing in the world but ditch-water—and that the radical heat, of those who can go to the expence of it, is burnt brandy,—the radical heat and moisture of a private man, an’ please your honour, is nothing but ditch-water—and a dram of geneva——and give us but enough of it, with a pipe of tobacco, to give us spirits, and drive away the vapours—we know not what it is to fear death.

I am at a loss, Captain _Shandy_, quoth Doctor _Slop_, to determine in which branch of learning your servant shines most, whether in physiology or divinity.—_Slop_ had not forgot _Trim_’s comment upon the sermon.—

It is but an hour ago, replied _Yorick_, since the corporal was examined in the latter, and passed muster with great honour.——

The radical heat and moisture, quoth Doctor _Slop_, turning to my father, you must know, is the basis and foundation of our being—as the root of a tree is the source and principle of its vegetation.—It is inherent in the seeds of all animals, and may be preserved sundry ways, but principally in my opinion by _consubstantials, impriments_, and _occludents._——Now this poor fellow, continued Dr. _Slop_, pointing to the corporal, has had the misfortune to have heard some superficial empiric discourse upon this nice point.——That he has,—said my father.——Very likely, said my uncle.—I’m sure of it—quoth _Yorick._——

C H A P. XLI

DOCTOR _Slop_ being called out to look at a cataplasm he had ordered, it gave my father an opportunity of going on with another chapter in the _Tristra-pædia._——Come! cheer up, my lads; I’ll shew you land——for when we have tugged through that chapter, the book shall not be opened again this twelve-month.—Huzza!—