'Twas a lovely scarecrow: two cross-sticks an' the varmer's own coat--'twas the coat he'd a-got married in forty year afore.

He gied et to me when the scarecrow had done wi' et, an' the tails were so long as an Act o' Parlyment.
'Top o' this was a whackin' big turmut by way o' face, wi' a red scarf round the neck--from Aunt Deb'rah's petticoat--an' wan o' th' ould man's left-off wigs 'pon the crown, an' a high-poll hat, a bit rusted wi' Sunday obsarvance, to finish.

Did I say 'to finish'?
"Well, then, I said wrong.

'Cos jest when I'd a-rigged 'n up, down comes Aunt Deb'rah an' cries out, 'Aw, Caleb, here be suthin' more! Do 'ee fix et in, that's a dear; an' ef et don't scare away any bird as iver flied, then,' says she, 'I'm wuss nor any bird'; an' wi' that she opens her hand an' gies me the Lawyer's cast-off eye.
"So I outs wi' my pocket-knife an' digs a hole in the turmat face, an' inside o' ten minnits there was the scarecrow finished off.
Aw, sir, 'twas a beautiful scarecrow; an' when us stuck et up, I tell 'ee that from the kitchen windeys, three hundred yards away, et seemed like life itsel'.
"Well, sir, fust day 'twas stuck there, I sot beside the hedge, round the corner, watchin', and while I sot two queerish things happen'd-- tho' the fust warn't so queer nuther, but jest human natur', when you comes to consider et.

'Twas this.