find one, because they did not believe in them, and were
thinking of nothing but Bumpsterhausen's blue follicles; having, as
usual, set the cart before the horse, and taken the effect for the
cause.

So they were forced at last to let the poor professor ease his mind by
writing a great book, exactly contrary to all his old opinions; in which
he proved that the moon was made of green cheese, and that all the mites
in it (which you may see sometimes quite plain through a telescope, if
you will only keep the lens dirty enough, as Mr. Weekes kept his voltaic
battery) are nothing in the world but little babies, who are hatching
and swarming up there in millions, ready to come down into this world
whenever children want a new little brother or sister.

Which must be a mistake, for this one reason: that, there being no
atmosphere round the moon (though some one or other says there is, at
least on the other side, and that he has been round at the back of it to
see, and found that the moon was just the shape of a Bath bun, and so
wet that the man in the moon went about on Midsummer-day in Macintoshes
and Cording's boots, spearing eels and sneezing); that, therefore, I
say, there being no atmosphere, there can be no evaporation; and
therefore, the dew-point can never fall below 71.5 deg. below zero of
Fahrenheit: and, therefore, it cannot be cold enough there about four
o'clock in the morning to condense the babies' mesenteric apophthegms
into their left ventricles; and, therefore, they can never catch the
hooping-cough; and if they do not have hooping-cough, they cannot be
babies at all; and, therefore, there are no babies in the moon.--Q.E.D.

Which may seem a roundabout reason; and so, perhaps, it is: but you will
have heard worse ones in your time, and from better men than you are.

But one thing is certain; that, when the good old doctor got his book
written, he felt considerably relieved from Bumpsterhausen's blue
follicles, and a few things infinitely worse; to wit, from pride and
vain-glory, and from blindness and hardness of heart; which are the true
causes of Bumpsterhausen's blue follicles, and of a good many other ugly
things besides. Whereon the foul flood-water in his brains ran down, and
cleared to a fine coffee colour, such as fish like to rise in, till very
fine clean fresh-run fish did begin to rise in his brains; and he caught
two or three of them (which is exceedingly fine sport, for brain
rivers), and anat