THE SIEGE OF THRUMS The man in the moon is a native of Thrums, who was put up there for hacking sticks on the Sabbath, and as he sails over the Den his interest in the bit placey is still sufficient to make him bend forward and cry "Boo!" at the lovers.

When they jump apart you can see the aged reprobate grinning.

Once out of sight of the den, he cares not a boddle how the moon travels, but the masterful crittur enrages him if she is in a hurry here, just as he is cleverly making out whose children's children are courting now.

"Slow, there!" he cries to the moon, but she answers placidly that they have the rest of the world to view to-night.
"The rest of the world be danged!" roars the man, and he cranes his neck for a last glimpse of the Cuttle Well, until he nearly falls out of the moon.
Never had the man such a trying time as during the year now before him.
It was the year when so many scientific magnates sat up half the night in their shirts, spying at him through telescopes.

But every effort to discover why he was in such a fidget failed, because the spy-glasses were never levelled at the Thrums den.