It may have been a very ordinary thing to them, considering their profession, to want people for corpses, either at Christmas or any other time; but it was hardly an ordinary thing to the Professor to be wanted for one; and the announcement was certainly somewhat startling, made in a sepulchral tone from out the gloom. It was still stranger that the young man himself appeared rather faint-hearted for one who entertained so malevolent a desire, and had the boldness to make the assertion outright. The Professor for a moment fairly thought him in league with the shadows, for they were at work once more, beckoning and pointing fiercely, as the wind swept up the staircase, to the indistinct figure out in the dusk, that was the son of the undertaker, and who said again,— “We want you, sir, for a corpse—” Here he paused abruptly, to clear his throat anew, as though he found himself disagreeably embarrassed by the unfriendly appearance of his host, whose face, if it had been pale at first, was of a gray, ashen color now. He evidently could not see why his request should have been taken in such ill part, and he stammered and stuttered, and was about ready to begin again, when the Professor said,— “You will likely get me.” The peculiar expression that rested upon the Professor’s mouth as he uttered these words, was hardly encouraging; but the young man—as though every body would recognize that it was absolutely essential to them, in order that they might celebrate the great gala-day with their family, to have a corpse, just as other people have a tree—immediately brightened up, and, advancing a step or two, said gratefully,— “I am very glad, sir; I am very glad. It is Christmas, you know, and I told them as how I thought you’d do, for you are spare, sir, and—” Here he found another blockade in his throat, which, after a slight struggle, he swallowed, and went on,— “I told them as how I thought you’d do, sir, for you see we want somebody that is small and thin, and will be light to carry after he is all fixed up. Hans Blauroch did for us last time; but this year, instead of parading Santa Claus up and down the street, we’ve concluded to bury him. It will be something new this Christmas; and Hans is too heavy to carry; and when I thought of you, sir, I just took the liberty of coming right up; because it’s near daylight, and there ain’t no great while left to get the funeral ready.” So the blockhead had finally jerked out what he came for, which was not so malevolent after all as he had at first made it appear. He deserved, rather, to be praised for his persistency than censured for his awkwardness, considering the difficulties under which he had labored.