That Flora is bewitching,
Jack feels is more than true:
But her ma’s too bewitching,—
Where will she take them to?

She bolts a massive trap-door,
Now raised above their heads ;

Then lifts another like it,—
Each action Reynard dreads.

Beneath her arm’s the hedgehog,
Within her hand a light ;
The gipsy’s fast descending,

The young pair hope all’s right.

About a thousand steep steps
We may say—more or less ;

They follow close as may be,
Though I must here confess,

The arm that steadied Flora,
So tightly clasped her waist,

It rather served to hinder
Than to increase her haste.

At length they reached a level,
And there’s a boat on wheels ;

The hedgehog soon is harnessed,
And quite at home he feels.

Jack handed in the ladies,
But kept near Flora’s side :
The tramway still is downhill,
An easy, pleasant ride.
Mile after mile is traversed,
Until at length a splash:
The boat is on a canal,
The hedgehog needs no lash.

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He pulls along so steady,
So swiftly, that the tide,
Caused by some falling waters,
Is clearly from that side.

The roof in parts is lofty,

Their torch scarce parts the gloom ;
At other times the channel

But just affords them room.

Jack notes the massive crystals
Which in the torchlight shone ;

The gipsy dame informs him
Each is some precious stone.

At length they near a chasm,
And hear the angry roar

| Of heavy-falling waters :

 

Jack trembles to the core.

| ‘My dears, these are the rapids

Which we have got to shoot ;
Most like we get a ducking—
Let each one grasp a fruit.’

| The noise grows louder—louder—

Like lightning now they glide:
The hedgehog doesn’t like it,
So takes a seat inside.

Breathless they hold their pumpkins,
Hollowed to make them float :
Their pace is now terrific,
And scarcely can they note

How mother, cunning creature!
Has changed into a seal,

And crawled to a snug corner,
Where she may safer feel.