of beer in the harvest field, with the consequence that before night came on the bottle was empty; so they went to the inn, and stayed there drinking until it was nearly “closing time.”  By that time they were quite merry, and decided to go home by the nearest way, leading along the towing-path of one of the canals, which in the north are wider and deeper than those farther south.  As it was almost as light as day, the moon being at its full, they got along all right until one of them suddenly startled his mate by telling him that the moon had fallen into the canal!  They both stood still for a moment, thinking what an awful thing had happened, but there seemed to be no doubt about it, whatever, for there was the moon lying in the middle of the canal.  It would never do to leave it there, but what could they do to get it out?  Their first thought was the rakes they were carrying home on their shoulders, and they decided to rake the moon to the side of the canal, where they would reach it with their hands.  They set to work—­but although their rakes were of the largest size, and their arms long and strong, the canal was too wide to enable them to reach the moon.  They were, however, agreed that they must get it out some way or other, for it would be a pity if it got drowned.  At last they decided that they would both get into the canal, and fetch the moon out themselves.  They pulled off their coats, therefore, and, laying them on the path, got into the water, only to find it much deeper than they had expected; their feet sank into the mud at the bottom, and the water came nearly up to their necks at once, and as it was deeper towards the middle, they found it impossible to carry out their task.  But the worst feature was that neither of the men could swim, and, being too deeply immersed in the water to reach high enough on the canal bank to pull themselves out again, they were in great danger of drowning.  Fortunately, however, a boat was coming along the canal, and when the man who was driving the horses attached to the boat heard their cries, he ran forward, and, stopping where he found the coats on the towing-path, was horrified to see the two men holding on to the stones that lined the canal.  They were fast losing consciousness, but with the assistance of the other men on the boat he got them out on the bank, and when they had recovered a little, assisted them home, for they both had drunk too much beer.  The incident created a great sensation at the time, but as “all’s well that ends well,” it was afterwards looked upon as a great joke—­though the two men were ever afterwards known as the Moonrakers, a nickname that was eventually applied to all the inhabitants of that village.

The story was well received, but not quite so loudly applauded as that which preceded it, until one gentleman in the company rose and asked my brother if he could name the village in Yorkshire where the incident occurred.  “Certainly, sir,” he replied; “the place was called Sloyit.”