ve 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 nought besides.
Stick to thy pipe, I say! Smoke, puff, blow thy cloud; and tell the
people, if any question be made, that it is for thy health, and that so
the physician orders thee to do. And, sweet one, when thou shalt find
thy pipe getting low, go apart into some corner, and (first filling
thyself with smoke) cry sharply, 'Dickon, a fresh pipe of tobacco!'
and, 'Dickon, another coal for my pipe!' and have it into thy pretty
mouth as speedily as may be. Else, instead of a gallant gentleman in a
gold-laced coat, thou wilt be but a jumble of sticks and tattered
clothes, and a bag of straw, and a withered pumpkin! Now depart, my
treasure, and good luck go with thee!"

"Never fear, mother!" said the figure, in a stout voice, and sending
forth a coura