was the giant Hoel, slain in Bretagne by King Arthur.
And if Ryence, King of North Wales, who was done to death by the same
worthy champion of Christendom, be not actually termed a giant, it is
plain he was little better, since he required twenty-four kings' beards,
which were then worn full and long, to fur his gown; whereby computing
each beard at eighteen inches (and you cannot allow less for a
beard-royal), and supposing only the front of the gown trimmed
therewith, as we use ermine; and that the back was mounted and lined,
instead of cat-skins and squirrels' fur, with the beards of earls and
dukes, and other inferior dignitaries--may amount to--But I will work
the question to-morrow."

Nothing is more soporific to any (save a philosopher or moneyed
man) than the operation of figures; and when in bed, the effect is
irresistible. Sir Geoffrey fell asleep in the act of calculating King
Ryence's height, from the supposed length of his mantle. Indeed, had
he not stumbled on this abstruse subject of calculation, there is no
guessing how long he might have held forth upon the superiority of
men of little stature, which was so great a favourite with him, that,
numerous as such narratives are, the dwarf had collected almost all
the instances of their victories over giants, which history or romance
afforded.

No sooner had unequivocal signs of the dwarf's sound slumbers reached
Julian's ears, than he began to listen eagerly for the renewal of that
mysterious communication which was at once interesting and awful. Even
whilst Hudson was speaking, he had, instead of bestowing his attention
upon his eulogy on persons of low statue, kept his ears on watchful
guard to mark if possible, the lightest sounds of any sort which might
occur in the apartment; so that he thought it scarce possible that
even a fly should have left it withouts its motion being overheard. If,
therefore, his invisible monitor was indeed a creature of this
world--an opinion which Julian's sound sense rendered him unwilling to
renounce--that being could not have left the apartment; and he waited
impatiently for a renewal of their communication. He was disappointed;
not the slightest sound reached his ear; and the nocturnal visitor, if
still in the room, appeared determined on silence.

It was in vain that Peveril coughed, hemmed, and gave other symptoms of
being awake; at length, such became his impatience, that he resolved, at
any risk, to speak first, in