THE CURSE—THE WAY OUT 1387

wrath. To his surprise and grief, however,

he found that the magic art of his enemy

had apparently deprived the instrument of

its power. No sound followed his attempt,

and his arm relaxing its hold upon the banjo,

it fell once more to the ground. At the

same time the King rose from his seat, and

stretching out his hand towards Prince Fil-

derkin, pointed at him with his forefinger,

and began to chaunt the following words in

a mystic and solemn tone: :

‘Who dares to enter Humpty Dumpty’s land

All uninvited by the hump-backed band

Will find his folly in attempting pranks

Upon the soil of hump-backed mountebanks.

Thou hasta hump! Presumptuous mortal, know

That blessing shall to thee become a woe,

Alike in hall or castle, couch or bed,

Thy hump shall on thy shoulders weigh like lead ;

Sharp, racking pains shall pierce thee through and
through,

Such as no hump of mountebank e’er knew,

Now hot, now cold, poor wretch, at every turn

Alternately thy frame shall freeze or burn,

Till, worn by hours that pass too slowly by,

Thou miserably curse thy hump—and die!’

As the King uttered these awful words of
doom, his countenance became o’ercast with
gloom, and he looked like some ancient seer