“It seems to be true,” said the astronomer, “that the Man has got out of the Moon somehow or other.  Let me look at your mouth, sir, and see if it is really burned.”

Then the Man opened his mouth, and everyone saw plainly it was burned to a blister!  Thereupon the magistrate begged his pardon for doubting his word, and asked him what he would like to do next.

“I ’d like to get back to the Moon,” said the Man, “for I do n’t like this earth of yours at all.  The nights are too hot.”

“Why, it ’s quite cool this evening!” said the magistrate.

“I ’ll tell you what we can do,” remarked the astronomer; “there ’s a big balloon in town which belongs to the circus that came here last summer, and was pawned for a board bill.  We can inflate this balloon and send the Man out of the Moon home in it.”

“That ’s a good idea,” replied the judge.  So the balloon was brought and inflated, and the Man got into the basket and gave the word to let go, and then the balloon mounted up into the sky in the direction of the moon.

The good people of Norwich stood on the earth and tipped back their heads, and watched the balloon go higher and higher, until finally the Man reached out and caught hold of the edge of the moon, and behold! the next minute he was the Man in the Moon again!

After this adventure he was well contented to stay at home; and I ’ve no doubt if you look through a telescope you will see him there to this day.

The Jolly Miller

The Jolly Miller

    There was a jolly miller
    Lived on the river Dee;
    He sang and worked from morn till night,
    No lark so blithe as he. 
    And this the burden of his song
    Forever seemed to be: 
    I care for nobody, no! not I,
    Since nobody cares for me.

“Cree-e-eekety-cruck-crick! cree-e-eekety-cruck-crick!” sang out the big wheel of the mill upon the river Dee, for it was old and ricketty and had worked many years grinding corn for the miller; so from morning till night it creaked and growled and complained as if rebelling against the work it must do.  And the country people, at work in the fields far away, would raise their heads when the soft summer breezes wafted the sound of the wheel to their ears and say,

“The jolly miller is grinding his corn.”  And again, at the times when the mill was shut down and no sound of the wheel reached them, they said to one another,

“The jolly miller has no corn to grind to-day,” or, “The miller is oiling the great wheel.”  But they would miss the creaking, monotonous noise, and feel more content when the mill started again and made music for them as they worked.

But no one came to the mill unless they brought corn to grind, for the miller was a queer man, and liked to be alone.  When people passed by the mill and saw the miller at his work, they only nodded their heads, for they knew he would not reply if they spoke to him.