"But," said I, "there is something in all this I cannot comprehend. What--where is the coffin?" "What coffin, my dear fellow?" said Wunderdudt. "The coffin that I was in." "The coffin," said he, smiling; "I suppose it remains where it was put the day before yesterday." I rubbed my eyes with vexation, not knowing what to make of these perplexing circumstances. "I mean," said I, "the coffin--that is, the coffin I drew over upon me when I fell." "I do not know of any coffin," answered he, laughing heartily; "but I know very well that you have pulled upon yourself my good mahogany table; there it lies." And on looking, I observed the large table, which stood in the middle of the hall, overturned upon the floor. Doctor Wunderdudt (he was professor of anatomy to the college) now made me retire, and had me put in bed till clothing could be procured. But I would not allow him to depart till he had unravelled the strange web of perplexity in which I still found myself involved. Nothing would satisfy me but a philosophical solution of the problem, "Why was I not buried alive, as I had reason to expect?" The doctor expounded this intricate point in the following manner:-- "The day before yesterday," said he, "I informed the resurrectionists in the service of the University, that I was in want of a subject, desiring them at the same time to set to work with all speed. That very night they returned, assuring me that they had fished up one which would answer to a hair, being both young and vigorous. In order to inform myself of the quality of what they brought me, I examined the body, when, to my indignation and grief, I found that they had disinterred my excellent friend, Mr Frederick Stadt, who had been buried the same day." "What!" said I, starting up from the bed, "did they disinter me?--the scoundrels!" "You may well call them scoundrels," said the professor, "for preventing a gentleman from enjoying the pleasure of being buried alive. The deed was certainly most felonious; and if you are at all anxious, I shall have them reported to the Syndic, and tried for their impertinent interference. But to proceed. No sooner did I observe that they had fallen upon you than I said, 'My good men, this will never do. You have brought me here my worthy friend Mr Stadt. I cannot feel in my heart to anatomise him, so just carry him quietly back to his old quarters, and I shall pay you his price, and something over and above.'" "What!" said I, again interrupting the doctor, "is it possible you could be so inhuman as to make the scoundrels bury me again?" "Now, Stadt," rejoined he, with a smile, "you are a strange fellow. You were angry at the _men_ for raising you, and now you are angry at _me_ for endeavouring to repair their error by reinterring you." "But you forget that I was to come alive?" "How the deuce was I to know that, my dear boy?" "Very true. Go on, doctor, and excuse me for interrupting you so often."