he skull of Cadwallader."

"To be sure he will. How can you doubt it?"

"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."

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. Nothing less 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, and he flew off as nimbly
as Squire Headlong himself, to impart the happy intelligence to his
beautiful Cephalis.

The departure of the ball visitors then took place, and the squire did
not suffer many days to elapse before the spiritual metamorphosis of
eight into four was effected by the clerical dexterity of the Reverend
Doctor Gaster.

* * * * *

Nightmare Abbey

"Nightmare Abbey" is perhaps the most extravagant of all
Peacock's stories, and, with the exception of "Headlong Hall,"
it obtained more vogue on its publication in 1818 than any of
his other works. It is eminently characteristic of its
author--the eighteenth century Rabelaisian pagan who prided
himself on his antagonism towards religion, yet whose likes
and dislikes were invariably inspired by hatred of cant and
enthusiasm for progress. The hero of the story is easily
distinguishable as the poet Shelley. On the whole the
characters are more life-like presentations of humanity than
those of "Headlong Hall." Simple and weak though the plot is,
the reader is carried along to the end through a brilliant
maze of wit and satire; underneath which outward show of
irresponsible fun there pervades a gloomy note of tragedy.

_I.--Mr. Glowry and His Son_

Nightmare Abbey, a venerable family mansion in a highly picturesque
state of semi-dilapidation, in the county of, Lincoln, had the honour to
be the seat of Christopher Glowry, Esquire, a gentleman much troubled
with those phantoms of indigestion commonly called "blue devils."

Disappointed both in love and friendship, he had come to the conclusion
that there was but one good thing