Ivi] THE WITCHES’ ISLAND. 227

 

Slave of the island he rows in the boat,
So the salt sea we can merrily pass ;
Then, when we care not to venture afloat,
Johnnie we turn to a regular ass.
Johnnie shall row, aye ! and Johnnie shall bray,
But never again from our isle go away !”

_ As they sang these words, the whole party began
to dance round and round the Donkey, who sat there
with imperturbable gravity, having apparently had
quite as much wine as was good for him, or at all events
seeming to be quite confused by what was going on
around him. What made the dance appear stranger
still was that all the waiters joined in it also; and to
see a number of cats in livery dancing about in this
manner was so absurd that at any other time Molly
would certainly have gone into fits of laughter. She
was, however, in no laughing mood just now, especially
as the dancers cast glances at her,the reverse of friendly,
and some of them began to approach her in their

antics with demonstrations which appeared decidedly
hostile. She could bear it no longer, so stepping for-
ward with a courage which you would hardly have sup-
posed her to possess, she advanced close to the dancers,
and remembering the word which the Wise Rabbit had
given her as a talisman against evil, she exclaimed in a
loud voice. ‘John Goodchild! come home! Wharl-
mone, I say !’

The words were scarcely out of her mouth when a
scream broke forth from every individual present—not
an ordinary scream, but a terrible, unearthly, painful
scream, such as may be imagined by those who have
powerful imaginations, but can hardly be described by
the pen of a living writer. It pierced through Molly’s

Qu?