hands with the tarry
blackguard, and recreate himself with a few improper jests, such as
dissolute sailors so abound with, and a volley of good, round, solid,
satisfactory, and heaven-defying oaths! It was not so much a better
principle as partly his natural good taste, and still more his
buckramed habit of clerical decorum, that carried him safely through
the latter crisis.

"What is it that haunts and tempts me thus?" cried the minister to
himself, at length, pausing in the street, and striking his hand
against his forehead. "Am I mad? or am I given over utterly to the
fiend? Did I make a contract with him in the forest, and sign it with
my blood? And does he now summon me to its fulfilment, by suggesting
the performance of every wickedness which his most foul imagination
can conceive?"

At the moment when the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale thus communed with
himself, and struck his forehead with his hand, old Mistress Hibbins,
the reputed witch-lady, is said to have been passing by. She made a
very grand appearance; having on a high head-dress, a rich gown of
velvet, and a ruff done up with the famous yellow starch, of which Ann
Turner, her especial friend, had taught her the secret, before this
last good lady had been hanged for Sir Thomas Overbury's murder.
Whether the witch had read the minister's thoughts, or no, she came to
a full stop, looked shrewdly into his face, smiled craftily,
and--though little given to converse with clergymen--began a
conversation.

"So, reverend Sir, you have made a visit into the forest," observed
the witch-lady, nodding her high head-dress at him. "The next time, I
pray you to allow me only a fair warning, and I shall be proud to bear
you company. Without taking overmuch upon myself, my good word will go
far towards gaining any strange gentleman a fair reception from yonder
potentate you wot of!"

"I profess, madam," answered the clergyman, with a grave obeisance,
such as the lady's rank demanded, and his own good-breeding made
imperative,--"I profess, on my conscience and character, that I am
utterly bewildered as touching the purport of your words! I went not
into the forest to seek a potentate; neither do I, at any future time,
design a visit thither, with a view to gaining the favor of such a
personage. My one sufficient object was to greet that pious friend of
mine, the Apostle Eliot, and rejoice with him over the many precious
souls he hath won from heathendom!"

"Ha, ha, ha!"