Tuggie dwelt alone in the ell part of an old gambrel-roofed house, which had seen better days, but was now deserted and sadly dilapidated, and was indeed in its main portion almost roofless. The ell, which contained the great raftered kitchen and two other rooms, was, however, tight and comfortable, and made a cheerful, picturesque home. Tuggie, who was strong and capable, worked for the farmers’ wives around; dipped candles, made soap, spun yarn and wove carpets, brewed and salted; she also cultivated a little patch of land of her own, and knit stockings to sell, and was altogether a very thrifty, industrious person. She was in reality far more afraid of being bewitched than she was confident of bewitching, and that evening, as she prepared to “burn a project” to conjure old Bosum Sidet, she started at every sound, and turned her petticoats inside out, to keep off evil spirits, and at last hung a bag of egg-shells around her neck as a potent saving-charm. She first mixed a little flour and water into dough and stirred in the hairs from the cow’s tail--these were the straw for her brick; then she moulded the dough into the shape of a heart and stuck two pins in for legs and two for arms; this would surely give Bosum “misery in de legs and arms”--in short, rheumatism. This dough-heart she set aside, for it was not properly part of the project, and would only fulfil its diabolical mission when it was carried to Bosum’s door and set upon his fence or doorstep, when the “misery” would begin. She then, with rather a quaking heart, prepared to burn the project. The sprigs of southernwood from Bosum’s door-yard, a few rusty nails, the tail of a smoked herring, a scrap of red flannel, a little mass of “grave-dirt” that she had taken from one of the many graveyards that are dotted all over Narragansett, and, last of all, that chief ingredient, the prime factor in all negro charms--a rabbit’s foot--were thrown into a pot of water that was hung upon the crane over a roaring fire. Of course everyone in Narragansett knew that when a project began to boil the conjured one would begin to suffer some mental or bodily ill; hence Tuggie listened with much satisfaction to the premonitory bubbling within the pot.