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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Trismegistus," said my father: "but stay; thou art a leaky vessel, Susanah; canst thou carry Trismegistus in thy head the length of the gallery without scattering?" "Can I," cried Susanah, shutting the door in a huff. "If she can, I'll be shot," said my father, bouncing out of bed in the dark and groping for his breeches. Susanah ran with all speed along the gallery.
"Then reach my breeches off the chair," said my father to Susanah. "There's not a moment's time to dress you, sir," cried Susanah; "bless me, sir, the child's in a fit. Mr. Yorick's curate's in the dressing room with the child upon his arm, waiting for the name; and my mistress bid me run as fast as I could to know, as Captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it should not be called after him."
"Were one sure," said my father to himself, scratching his eyebrow, "that the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother Toby as not, and 'twould be a pity in such a case to throw away so great a name as Trismegistus upon him. But he may recover." "No, no," said my father to Susanah, "I'll get up." "There's no time," cried Susanah, "the child's as black as my shoe."
My father made all possible speed to find his breeches. Susanah got the start and kept it. "'Tis Tris something," cried Susanah. "There is no Christian name in the world," said the curate, "beginning with Tris, but Tristram." "Then 'tis Tristram-gistus," quoth Susanah. "There is no gistus to it, noodle; 'tis my own name," replied the curate, dipping his hand as he spoke into the basin.
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