LittleJoe’sfacebrightenedatonce。
“Dearfather。”criedhe，skippingcheerilytoandfro，“that
strangemanisgone，andtheskyandthemountainsallseemgladof
it！”
“Yes。”growledthelime-burner，withanoath，“buthehasletthe
firegodown，andnothankstohimiffivehundredbushelsoflimeare
notspoiled。IfIcatchthefellowhereaboutsagain，Ishallfeellike
tossinghimintothefurnace！”
Withhislongpoleinhishand，heascendedtothetopofthekiln。
Afteramoment’spause，hecalledtohisson。
“Comeuphere，Joe！”saidhe。
SolittleJoeranupthehillock，andstoodbyhisfather’sside。
Themarblewasallburntintoperfect，snow-whitelime。Butonits
surface，inthemidstofthecircle-snow-whitetoo，andthoroughly
convertedintolime-layahumanskeleton，intheattitudeofaperson
who，afterlongtoil，liesdowntolongrepose。Withintheribs-
strangetosay-wastheshapeofahumanheart。
“Wasthefellow’sheartmadeofmarble？”criedBartram，insome
perplexityatthisphenomenon。“Atanyrate，itisburntintowhat
lookslikespecialgoodlime；and，takingallthebonestogether，my
kilnishalfabushelthericherforhim。”
Sosaying，therudelime-burnerliftedhispole，and，lettingit
fallupontheskeleton，therelicsofEthanBrandwerecrumbledinto
fragments。
byNathanielHawthorne
DICKON。”criedMotherRigby，“acoalformypipe！”Thepipewas
intheolddame’smouthwhenshesaidthesewords。Shehadthrustit
thereafterfillingitwithtobacco，butwithoutstoopingtolight
itatthehearth，whereindeedtherewasnoappearanceofafire
havingbeenkindledthatmorning。Forthwith，however，assoonasthe
orderwasgiven，therewasanintenseredglowoutofthebowlof
thepipe，andawhiffofsmokefromMotherRigby’slips。Whencethe
coalcame，andhowbroughtthitherbyaninvisiblehand，Ihave
neverbeenabletodiscover。
“Good！”quothMotherRigby，withanodofherhead。“Thankye，
Dickon！Andnowformakingthisscarecrow。Bewithincall，Dickon，
incaseIneedyouagain。”
Thegoodwomanhadrisenthusearly(forasyetitwas
scarcelysunrise)inordertosetaboutmakingascarecrow，which
sheintendedtoputinthemiddleofhercorn-patch。Itwasnowthe
latterweekofMay，andthecrowsandblackbirdshadalready
discoveredthelittle，green，rolled-upleafoftheIndiancornjust
peepingoutofthesoil。Shewasdetermined，therefore，tocontriveas
lifelikeascarecrowaseverwasseen，andtofinishitimmediately，
fromtoptotoe，sothatitshouldbeginitssentinel’sdutythatvery
morning。NowMotherRigby(aseverybodymusthaveheard)wasoneof
themostcunningandpotentwitchesinNewEngland，andmight，with
verylittletrouble，havemadeascarecrowuglyenoughtofrightenthe
ministerhimself。Butonthisoccasion，asshehadawakenedinan
uncommonlypleasanthumor，andwasfurtherdulcifiedbyherpipeof
tobacco，sheresolvedtoproducesomethingfine，beautiful，and
splendid，ratherthanhideousandhorrible。
“Idon’twanttosetupahobgoblininmyowncorn-patch，and
almostatmyowndoorstep。”saidMotherRigbytoherself，puffing
outawhiffofsmoke；“IcoulddoitifIpleased，butI’mtiredof
doingmarvellousthings，andsoI’llkeepwithintheboundsof
everydaybusinessjustforvariety’ssake。Besides，thereisnousein
scaringthelittlechildrenforamileroundabout，though’tistrue
I’mawitch。”
Itwassettled，therefore，inherownmind，thatthescarecrow
shouldrepresentafinegentlemanoftheperiod，sofarasthe
materialsathandwouldallow。Perhapsitmaybeaswellto
enumeratethechiefofthearticlesthatwenttothecompositionof
thisfigure。
Themostimportantitemofall，probably，althoughitmadeso
littleshow，wasacertainbroomstick，onwhichMotherRigbyhadtaken
manyanairygallopatmidnight，andwhichnowservedthescarecrowby
wayofaspinalcolumn，or，astheunlearnedphraseit，abackbone。
Oneofitsarmswasadisabledflailwhichusedtobewieldedby
GoodmanRigby，beforehisspouseworriedhimoutofthistroublesome
world；theother，ifImistakenot，wascomposedofthepudding
stickandabrokenrungofachair，tiedlooselytogetheratthe
elbow。Asforitslegs，therightwasahoehandle，andtheleftan
undistinguishedandmiscellaneousstickfromthewoodpile。Its
lungs，stomach，andotheraffairsofthatkindwerenothingbetter
thanamealbagstuffedwithstraw。Thuswehavemadeouttheskeleton
andentirecorporosityofthescarecrow，withtheexceptionofits
head；andthiswasadmirablysuppliedbyasomewhatwitheredand
shrivelledpumpkin，inwhichMotherRigbycuttwoholesforthe
eyes，andaslitforthemouth，leavingabluish-coloredknobinthe
middletopassforanose。Itwasreallyquitearespectableface。
“I’veseenworseonesonhumanshoulders，atanyrate。”saidMother
Rigby。“Andmanyafinegentlemanhasapumpkinhead，aswellasmy
scarecrow。”
Buttheclothes，inthiscase，weretobethemakingoftheman。So
thegoodoldwomantookdownfromapeganancientplum-coloredcoat
ofLondonmake，andwithrelicsofembroideryonitsseams，cuffs，
pocket-flaps，andbutton-holes，butlamentablywornandfaded，patched
attheelbows，tatteredattheskirts，andthreadbareallover。Onthe
leftbreastwasaroundhole，whenceeitherastarofnobilityhad
beenrentaway，orelsethehotheartofsomeformerwearerhad
scorcheditthroughandthrough。Theneighborssaidthatthisrich
garmentbelongedtotheBlackMan’swardrobe，andthathekeptitat
MotherRigby’scottagefortheconvenienceofslippingiton
wheneverhewishedtomakeagrandappearanceatthegovernor’stable。
Tomatchthecoattherewasavelvetwaistcoatofveryamplesize，and
formerlyembroideredwithfoliagethathadbeenasbrightlygolden
asthemapleleavesinOctober，butwhichhadnowquitevanishedout
ofthesubstanceofthevelvet。Nextcameapairofscarlet
breeches，oncewornbytheFrenchgovernorofLouisbourg，andthe
kneesofwhichhadtouchedthelowerstepofthethroneofLouisle
Grand。TheFrenchmanhadgiventhesesmall-clothestoanIndian
powwow，whopartedwiththemtotheoldwitchforagillofstrong
waters，atoneoftheirdancesintheforest。Furthermore，Mother
Rigbyproducedapairofsilkstockingsandputthemonthefigure’s
legs，wheretheyshowedasunsubstantialasadream，withthewooden
realityofthetwosticksmakingitselfmiserablyapparentthroughthe
holes。Lastly，sheputherdeadhusband’swigonthebarescalpofthe
pumpkin，andsurmountedthewholewithadustythree-corneredhat，
inwhichwasstuckthelongesttailfeatherofarooster。
Thentheolddamestoodthefigureupinacornerofhercottage
andchuckledtobeholditsyellowsemblanceofavisage，withits
nobbylittlenosethrustintotheair。Ithadastrangely
self-satisfiedaspect，andseemedtosay，“Comelookatme！”
“Andyouarewellworthlookingat，that’safact！”quothMother
Rigby，inadmirationatherownhandiwork。“I’vemademanyapuppet
sinceI’vebeenawitch，butmethinksthisisthefinestofthem
all。’Tisalmosttoogoodforascarecrow。And，bytheby，I’lljust
fillafreshpipeoftobaccoandthentakehimouttothecorn-patch。”
Whilefillingherpipetheoldwomancontinuedtogazewith
almostmotherlyaffectionatthefigureinthecorner。Tosaythe
truth，whetheritwerechance，orskill，ordownrightwitchcraft，
therewassomethingwonderfullyhumaninthisridiculousshape，
bedizenedwithitstatteredfinery；andasforthecountenance，it
appearedtoshrivelitsyellowsurfaceintoagrin-afunnykindof
expressionbetwixtscornandmerriment，asifitunderstooditself
tobeajestatmankind。ThemoreMotherRigbylookedthebettershe
waspleased。
“Dickon。”criedshesharply，“anothercoalformypipe！”
Hardlyhadshespoken，than，justasbefore，therewasa
red-glowingcoalonthetopofthetobacco。Shedrewinalongwhiff
andpuffeditforthagainintothebarofmorningsunshinewhich
struggledthroughtheonedustypaneofhercottagewindow。Mother
Rigbyalwayslikedtoflavorherpipewithacoaloffirefromthe
particularchimneycornerwhencethishadbeenbrought。Butwherethat
chimneycornermightbe，orwhobroughtthecoalfromit-furtherthan
thattheinvisiblemessengerseemedtorespondtothenameof
Dickon-Icannottell。
“Thatpuppetyonder。”thoughtMotherRigby，stillwithhereyes
fixedonthescarecrow，“istoogoodapieceofworktostandall
summerinacorn-patch，frighteningawaythecrowsandblackbirds。
He’scapableofbetterthings。Why，I’vedancedwithaworseone，when
partnershappenedtobescarce，atourwitchmeetingsintheforest！
WhatifIshouldlethimtakehischanceamongtheothermenof
strawandemptyfellowswhogobustlingabouttheworld？”
Theoldwitchtookthreeorfourmorewhiffsofherpipeand
smiled。
“He’llmeetplentyofhisbrethrenateverystreetcorner！”
continuedshe。“Well；Ididn’tmeantodabbleinwitchcrafttoday，
furtherthanthelightingofmypipe，butawitchIam，andawitch
I’mlikelytobe，andthere’snousetryingtoshirkit。I’llmakea
manofmyscarecrow，wereitonlyforthejoke’ssake！”
Whilemutteringthesewords，MotherRigbytookthepipefromher
ownmouthandthrustitintothecrevicewhichrepresentedthesame
featureinthepumpkinvisageofthescarecrow。
“Puff，darling，puff！”saidshe。“Puffaway，myfinefellow！your
lifedependsonit！”
Thiswasastrangeexhortation，undoubtedly，tobeaddressedtoa
merethingofsticks，straw，andoldclothes，withnothingbetterthan
ashrivelledpumpkinforahead-asweknowtohavebeenthe
scarecrow’scase。Nevertheless，aswemustcarefullyholdin
remembrance，MotherRigbywasawitchofsingularpoweranddexterity；
and，keepingthisfactdulybeforeourminds，weshallseenothing
beyondcredibilityintheremarkableincidentsofourstory。Indeed，
thegreatdifficultywillbeatoncegotover，ifwecanonlybring
ourselvestobelievethat，assoonastheolddamebadehimpuff，
therecameawhiffofsmokefromthescarecrow’smouth。Itwasthe
veryfeeblestofwhiffs，tobesure；butitwasfollowedbyanother
andanother，eachmoredecidedthantheprecedingone。
“Puffaway，mypet！puffaway，myprettyone！”MotherRigbykept
repeating，withherpleasantestsmile。“Itisthebreathoflifeto
ye；andthatyoumaytakemywordfor。”
