All of which seems very queer to you, no doubt; but it was n’t at all queer to the Man in the Moon, for he was accustomed to it.

Well, he sat by his ice-cool fire and thought about his journey to the earth, and finally he decided the only way he could get there was to slide down a moonbeam.

So he left the house and locked the door and put the key in his pocket, for he was uncertain how long he should be gone; and then he went to the edge of the moon and began to search for a good strong moonbeam.

At last he found one that seemed rather substantial and reached right down to a pleasant-looking spot on the earth; and so he swung himself over the edge of the moon, and put both arms tight around the moonbeam and started to slide down.  But he found it rather slippery, and in spite of all his efforts to hold on he found himself going faster and faster, so that just before he reached the earth he lost his hold and came tumbling down head over heels and fell plump into a river.

The cool water nearly scalded him before he could swim out, but fortunately he was near the bank and he quickly scrambled upon the land and sat down to catch his breath.

By that time it was morning, and as the sun rose its hot rays cooled him off somewhat, so that he began looking about curiously at all the strange sights and wondering where on earth he was.

By and by a farmer came along the road by the river with a team of horses drawing a load of hay, and the horses looked so odd to the Man in the Moon that at first he was greatly frightened, never before having seen horses except from his home in the moon, from whence they looked a good deal smaller.  But he plucked up courage and said to the farmer,

“Can you tell me the way to Norwich, sir?”

“Norwich?” repeated the farmer musingly; “I do n’t know exactly where it be, sir, but it ’s somewhere away to the south.”

“Thank you,” said the Man in the Moon.—­But stop!  I must not call him the Man in the Moon any longer, for of course he was now out of the moon; so I ’ll simply call him the Man, and you ’ll know by that which man I mean.

Well, the Man in the—­I mean the Man (but I nearly forgot what I have just said)—­the Man turned to the south and began walking briskly along the road, for he had made up his mind to do as the alderman had advised and travel to Norwich, that he might eat some of the famous pease porridge that was made there.  And finally, after a long and tiresome journey, he reached the town and stopped at one of the first houses he came to, for by this time he was very hungry indeed.

A good-looking woman answered his knock at the door, and he asked politely,

“Is this the town of Norwich, madam?”

“Surely this is the town of Norwich,” returned the woman.

“I came here to see if I could get some pease porridge,” continued the Man, “for I hear you make I the nicest porridge in the world in this town.”