is pipe, and seemed now to continue this occupation
as much for the enjoyment it afforded, as because it was an essential
condition of his existence. It was wonderful to see how exceedingly like
a human being it behaved. Its eyes (for it appeared to possess a pair)
were bent on Mother Rigby, and at suitable junctures, it nodded or shook
its head. Neither did it lack words proper for the occasion.--"Really!
Indeed! Pray tell me! Is it possible! Upon my word! By no means! Oh! Ah!
Hem!"--and other such weighty utterances as imply attention, inquiry,
acquiescence, or dissent, on the part of the auditor. Even had you stood
by, and seen the scarecrow made, you could scarcely have resisted the
conviction that it perfectly understood the cunning counsels which the
old witch poured into its counterfeit of an ear. The more earnestly it
applied its lips to the pipe, the more distinctly was its human likeness
stamped among visible realities; the more sagacious grew its expression;
the more lifelike its gestures and movements; and the more intelligibly
audible its voice. Its garments, too, glistened so much the brighter
with an illusory magnificence. The very pipe, in which burned the spell
of all this wonderwork, ceased to appear as a smoke-blackened earthen
stump, and became a meerschaum, with painted bowl and amber mouthpiece.

It might be apprehended, however, that as the life of the illusion
seemed identical with the vapor of the pipe, it would terminate
simultaneously with the reduction of the tobacco to ashes. But the
beldam foresaw the difficulty.

"Hold thou the pipe, my precious one," said she, "while I fill it for
thee again."

It was sorrowful to behold how the fine gentleman began to fade back
into a scarecrow, while Mother Rigby shook the ashes out of the pipe,
and proceeded to replenish it from her tobacco-box.

"Dickon," cried she, in her high, sharp tone, "another coal for this
pipe."

No sooner said, than the intensely red speck of fire was glowing within
the pipe-bowl; and the scarecrow, without waiting for the witch's
bidding, applied the tube to his lips, and drew in a few short,
convulsive whiffs, which soon, however, became regular and equable.

"Now, mine own heart's darling," quoth Mother Rigby, "whatever may
happen to thee, thou must stick to thy pipe. Thy life is in it; and
that, at least, thou knowest well, if thou knowest naught besides. Stick
to thy pipe, I say! Smoke, puff, blow thy cloud; and te