That on the crumbling girdle of his house
Proclaim him Principe. That be your task,
And pare your miserable marble, me.
FEATHERTOP: A MORALIZED LEGEND.
WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE
BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.
"Dickon," cried Mother Rigby, "a coal for my pipe!"
The pipe was in the old dame's mouth, when she said these words. She had thrust it there after filling it with tobacco, but without stooping to light it at the hearth; where, indeed, there was no appearance of a fire having been kindled, that morning. Forthwith, however, as soon as the order was given, there was an intense red glow out of the bowl of the pipe, and a whiff of smoke from Mother Rigby's lips. Whence the coal came, and how brought thither by an invisible hand, I have never been able to discover.