and the Bletherwitch
85
ton, and his black cat, and Tom Tiddler, and about three thousand four hundred and five goblins and sprites, who all commenced running a race up and down the valley from which they were fast speeding.
“Keep the pot a-boiling; keep the pot a-boiling,” bawled the Zankiwank, and away they all went again, helter skelter, in and out, and up and down, like skaters on a rink.
Gradually the balloon altered its course, and instead of going up it went straight ahead to a large inpenetrable wall that seemed to threaten them with destruction; while, to the annoyance of both Maude and Willie, they could hear the revellers down below dancing and singing as though they were in no jeopardy. And if the words had been correct they would have declared that it was the Mariners of England who were singing their own song:—
You sleepy little mortals,
High up in a balloon,
You soon will pass the portals,
Beyond the crescent moon.
High up in a balloon,
You soon will pass the portals,
Beyond the crescent moon.
