I begged he would explain himself.

"Briefly then," said he, "I have been to the billiard-room, and every
other lounging-place about town, where I circulated, in the most
mysterious manner, a report that a celebrated German doctor and
philosopher, who had discovered the secret of resuscitating the dead, had
arrived in Loughrea."

"How ridiculous!" I said.

"Don't be in a hurry. This philosopher," he added, "is about to give
positive proof that he can perform what he professes, and it is his
intention to go into the churchyard to-night, and resuscitate a few of
those who have not been buried more than a twelvemonth."

"Well." said I, "what does all this nonsense come to?"

"That you must play the philosopher in the churchyard."

"Me!"

"Certainly, you're the very figure for the part."

After some persuasion, and some further development of his plan, I
consented to wrap myself in an ample stage-cloak, and gliding into the
churchyard, I waited in the porch according to the directions I had
received from Ned, until near midnight, when I issued forth, and proceeded
to examine the different tombs attentively. I was bending over one, which,
by the inscription, I perceived had been erected by "an affectionate and
disconsolate wife, to the memory of her beloved husband," when I was