He had made arrangements with the janitor of the medical college, who was also a sexton, to have the body of a female on the dissecting-table on a certain night, as he wanted to make some specific studies for his lecture of the next day. On the evening when the body was to be ready for him, he had accepted an invitation to a small party, at the house of one of the professors, and thither he went, pre-arranging with one of the students to leave at eleven o’clock, and go together to accomplish his examination. At the appointed hour he made a sign to his companion, and they withdrew. Arriving at the college, he entered by his pass-key, found a couple of candles on the table in the lower hall, ascended the usual stairway, and, arriving at the door of the lecture-room at the top of the building, stopped for a moment to hang up their cloaks and hats. Then he applied the key to the lock, and entered with the candles lit, of course. A deep gloom pervaded the dissecting-room,—a gloom that was increased by the feeble light of the two candles, and upon the table lay, under the fearful cloth, the subject for the night’s work. Without any other thought in their minds save the plain matter-of-fact idea of work, they advanced to the dissecting-board,—the doctor towards the head of the corpse, the student passing round to the other side. As the latter was in the act of turning, he lifted his candle and exclaimed, “Doctor, who is that?” pointing at the same time toward the centre of the room. “I do not know,” replied the doctor, thinking the question applied to the body before him; but no sooner had he raised his eyes than he was struck by the attitude of his friend. He was holding the candle above his head and looking away from the table, and the doctor, following the direction of his gaze, discovered the figure of a man standing some twelve or fifteen feet distant. My friend said that his only impression was that they were in for a row; concluding that the mob had found out the secret stairway, and got into the hall for the purpose of breaking up the dissecting operations. With this idea he turned round the table, and, as he advanced toward the figure, exclaimed, “Who are you? What do you want here?” In his advance movement he was joined by the student, neither for an instant having the idea of a supernatural visitation in their minds. As quickly as they pushed forward, as rapidly did the figure retreat until it reached the door leading to the head of the stairway, when it disappeared. Supposing that the man had passed out as he had come in, they rushed to the door to follow, but they found the door fastened and the bolt shot within the staple. With difficulty they forced it back, for it had never been used since it was put on,—no occasion requiring it,—and then they descended the steps to the outer doorway, which they found closed, and from _within_.