Mr. Escot at once decided that now was the time to get extensive and accurate information concerning his theory of the physical deterioration of man.

“You have been sexton here,” said Mr. Escot, in the language of Hamlet, “man and boy, forty years.”

The sexton turned pale; the period named was so nearly the true.

“During this period you have, of course, dug up many bones of the people of ancient times.  Perhaps you can show me a few.”

The sexton grinned a ghastly smile.

“Will you take your Bible oath you don’t want them to raise the devil with?”

“Willingly,” said Mr. Escot.  “I have an abstruse reason for the inquiry.”

“Why, if you have an obtuse reason,” said the sexton, “that alters the case.”

So saying, he led the way to the bone-house, from which he began to throw out various bones and skulls, and amongst them a skull of very extraordinary magnitude, which he swore by St. David was the skull of Cadwallader.

“How do you know this to be his skull?” said Mr. Escot.

“He was the biggest man that ever lived, and he was buried here; and this is the biggest skull I ever found.  You see now——­”

“Nothing could be more logical,” said Mr. Escot.  “My good friend, will you allow me to take away this skull with me?”

“St. Winifred bless us!” exclaimed the sexton.  “Would you have me haunted by his ghost for taking his blessed bones out of consecrated ground?  For, look you, his epitaph says: 

    “’He that my bones shall ill bestow,
    Leek in his ground shall never grow.’”

“But you will well bestow them in giving them to me,” said Mr. Escot.  “I will have this illustrious skull bound with a silver rim and filled with wine, for when the wine is in the brain is out.”

Saying these words, he put a dollar into the hand of the sexton, who instantly stood spellbound, while Mr. Escot walked off in triumph with the skull of Cadwallader.

IV.—­The Proposals

The Christmas ball, when relatives and friends assembled from far and wide, was the great entertainment given at Headlong Hall from time immemorial, and it was on the morning after the ball that Miss Brindle-Mew Tabitha Ap-Headlong, the squire’s maiden aunt, took her nephew aside, and told him it was time he was married if the family was not to become extinct.

“Egad!” said Squire Headlong.  “That is very true.  I’ll marry directly.  A good opportunity to fix on someone now they are all here, and I’ll pop the question without further ceremony.  I’ll think of somebody presently.  I should like to be married on the same day with Caprioletta.  She is going to be married to my friend Mr. Foster, the philosopher.”

“Oh!” said the maiden aunt, “that a daughter of our ancient family should marry a philosopher!”

“It’s Caprioletta’s affair, not mine,” said Squire Headlong.  “I tell you the matter is settled, fixed, determined, and so am I, to be married on the same day.  I don’t know, now I think of it, whom I can choose better than one of the daughters of my friend Chromatic.”