“Yet you destroy the hemlock,” said Squire Headlong, “and cultivate the potato; that is my way, at least.”

“I do,” said Mr Cranium; “because I know that the farinaceous qualities of the potato will tend to preserve the great requisites of unity and coalescence in the various constituent portions of my animal republic; and that the hemlock, if gathered by mistake for parsley, chopped up small with butter, and eaten with a boiled chicken, would necessitate a great derangement, and perhaps a total decomposition, of my corporeal mechanism.”

“Very well,” said the squire; “then you are necessitated to like Mr Escot better than Mr Panscope?”

“That is a non sequitur,” said Mr Cranium.

“Then this is a sequitur,” said the squire:  “your daughter and Mr Escot are necessitated to love one another; and, unless you feel necessitated to adhibit your consent, they will feel necessitated to dispense with it; since it does appear to moral and political economists to be essentially inherent in the eternal fitness of things.”

Mr Cranium fell into a profound reverie:  emerging from which, he said, looking Squire Headlong full in the face, “Do you think Mr Escot would give me that skull?”

“Skull!” said Squire Headlong.

“Yes,” said Mr Cranium, “the skull of Cadwallader.”

“To be sure he will,” said the squire.

“Ascertain the point,” said Mr Cranium.

“How can you doubt it?” said the squire.

“I simply know,” said Mr Cranium, “that if it were once in my possession, I would not part with it for any acquisition on earth, much less for a wife.  I have had one:  and, as marriage has been compared to a pill, I can very safely assert that one is a dose; and my reason for thinking that he will not part with it is, that its extraordinary magnitude tends to support his system, as much as its very marked protuberances tend to support mine; and you know his own system is of all things the dearest to every man of liberal thinking and a philosophical tendency.”

The Squire flew over to Mr Escot.  “I told you,” said he, “I would settle him:  but there is a very hard condition attached to his compliance.”

“I submit to it,” said Mr Escot, “be it what it may.”

“Nothing less,” said Squire Headlong, “than the absolute and unconditional surrender of the skull of Cadwallader.”

“I resign it,” said Mr Escot.

“The skull is yours,” said the squire, skipping over to Mr Cranium.

“I am perfectly satisfied,” said Mr Cranium.

“The lady is yours,” said the squire, skipping back to Mr Escot.

“I am the happiest man alive,” said Mr Escot.

“Come,” said the squire, “then there is an amelioration in the state of the sensitive man.”

“A slight oscillation of good in the instance of a solitary individual,” answered Mr Escot, “by no means affects the solidity of my opinions concerning the general deterioration of the civilised world; which when I can be induced to contemplate with feelings of satisfaction, I doubt not but that I may be persuaded to be in love with tortures, and to think charitably of the rack[14.1].”