200 WHISPERS FROM FAIRVLAND. (iv.

 

_ Upon this a low chuckle of approbation proceeded
from the old tree, and the voice again made itself
heard to the listening ears of the anxious woman.

’ ¢Thirst and hunger are hard when unslaked,
But your husband to lose is still harder,
Though like rabbits he may not be baked,
Or hung by the legs in a larder.
* But now to my words if you list,
Bright hope in your heart may rekindle ;
Agairt by your John you'll be kiss’d,
‘ And the witches you'll certainly swindle.
A boat you must take to the isle,
Where mortals have scarce been before you,
And take all precautions, meanwhile,
Lest the witches by magic come o’er you,
For monsters, no doubt, they will send
To fright you with grinning and frowning,
But never turn back, or you'll end
Your fortunes directly by drowning,
Before you launch out on the seas
Take one of your husband’s old jackets,
For the pocket of which, if you please,
I will presently give you three packets.
* Number one,” ‘number two,” ‘¢number three,”
On each you will see its own label ;
And mightily useful they’ll be,
If to follow my orders you’re able.
These orders I’ve written in prose,
Your intellect carefully priming,
For ne’er a wise rabbit but knows
What blunders may happen from rhyming !’

The voice ceased, and immediately afterwards three
packets, apparently thrown by an invisible hand from
the middle of the old thorn-tree, fell at Molly’s feet.
They were carefully done up in brown paper and
labelled as the voice had stated, the words being