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Unknown - "Editorials from the Hearst Newspapers "

Mihai Nadin - "The Civilization of Illiteracy, by Mihai Nadin"

Robert Louis Stevenson - "Tales and Fantasies"

Oscar Wilde - "De Profundis"

The Emerald City of Oz

L >> L. Frank Baum >> The Emerald City of Oz




"These companions, Princess, cannot enter Bunnybury with you."

"Why not?" asked Dorothy.

"In the first place they would frighten our people, who dislike dogs
above all things on earth; and, secondly, the letter of the Royal Ozma
does not mention them."

"But they're my friends," persisted Dorothy, "and go wherever I go."

"Not this time," said the rabbit, decidedly. "You, yourself, Princess,
are a welcome visitor, since you come so highly recommended; but
unless you consent to leave the dog and the hen in this room I cannot
permit you to enter the town."

"Never mind us, Dorothy," said Billina. "Go inside and see what the
place is like. You can tell us about it afterward, and Toto and I
will rest comfortably here until you return."

This seemed the best thing to do, for Dorothy was curious to see how
the rabbit people lived and she was aware of the fact that her
friends might frighten the timid little creatures. She had not
forgotten how Toto and Billina had misbehaved in Bunbury, and perhaps
the rabbit was wise to insist on their staying outside the town.

"Very well," she said, "I'll go in alone. I s'pose you're the King of
this town, aren't you?"

"No," answered the rabbit, "I'm merely the Keeper of the Wicket, and
a person of little importance, although I try to do my duty. I must
now inform you, Princess, that before you enter our town you must
consent to reduce."

"Reduce what?" asked Dorothy.

"Your size. You must become the size of the rabbits, although you may
retain your own form."

"Wouldn't my clothes be too big for me?" she inquired.

"No; they will reduce when your body does."

"Can YOU make me smaller?" asked the girl.

"Easily," returned the rabbit.

"And will you make me big again, when I'm ready to go away?"

"I will," said he.

"All right, then; I'm willing," she announced.

The rabbit jumped from the table and ran--or rather hopped--to the
further wall, where he opened a door so tiny that even Toto could
scarcely have crawled through it.

"Follow me," he said.

Now, almost any other little girl would have declared that she could
not get through so small a door; but Dorothy had already encountered
so many fairy adventures that she believed nothing was impossible in
the Land of Oz. So she quietly walked toward the door, and at every
step she grew smaller and smaller until, by the time the opening was
reached, she could pass through it with ease. Indeed, as she stood
beside the rabbit, who sat upon his hind legs and used his paws as
hands, her head was just about as high as his own.

Then the Keeper of the Wicket passed through and she followed, after
which the door swung shut and locked itself with a sharp click.

Dorothy now found herself in a city so strange and beautiful that she
gave a gasp of surprise. The high marble wall extended all around the
place and shut out all the rest of the world. And here were marble
houses of curious forms, most of them resembling overturned kettles
but with delicate slender spires and minarets running far up into the
sky. The streets were paved with white marble and in front of each
house was a lawn of rich green clover. Everything was as neat as wax,
the green and white contrasting prettily together.

But the rabbit people were, after all, the most amazing things Dorothy
saw. The streets were full of them, and their costumes were so
splendid that the rich dress of the Keeper of the Wicket was
commonplace when compared with the others. Silks and satins of
delicate hues seemed always used for material, and nearly every
costume sparkled with exquisite gems.

But the lady rabbits outshone the gentlemen rabbits in splendor, and
the cut of their gowns was really wonderful. They wore bonnets, too,
with feathers and jewels in them, and some wheeled baby carriages in
which the girl could see wee bunnies. Some were lying asleep while
others lay sucking their paws and looking around them with big pink eyes.

As Dorothy was no bigger in size than the grown-up rabbits she had a
chance to observe them closely before they noticed her presence. Then
they did not seem at all alarmed, although the little girl naturally
became the center of attraction and regarded her with great curiosity.

"Make way!" cried the Keeper of the Wicket, in a pompous voice; "make
way for Princess Dorothy, who comes from Ozma of Oz."

Hearing this announcement, the throng of rabbits gave place to
them on the walks, and as Dorothy passed along they all bowed
their heads respectfully.

Walking thus through several handsome streets they came to a square
in the center of the City. In this square were some pretty trees and
a statue in bronze of Glinda the Good, while beyond it were the
portals of the Royal Palace--an extensive and imposing building of
white marble covered with a filigree of frosted gold.



20. How Dorothy Lunched With a King


A line of rabbit soldiers was drawn up before the palace entrance, and
they wore green and gold uniforms with high shakos upon their heads
and held tiny spears in their hands. The Captain had a sword and a
white plume in his shako.

"Salute!" called the Keeper of the Wicket. "Salute Princess Dorothy,
who comes from Ozma of Oz!"

"Salute!" yelled the Captain, and all the soldiers promptly saluted.

They now entered the great hall of the palace, where they met a gaily
dressed attendant, from whom the Keeper of the Wicket inquired if the
King were at leisure.

"I think so," was the reply. "I heard his Majesty blubbering and
wailing as usual only a few minutes ago. If he doesn't stop acting
like a cry-baby I'm going to resign my position here and go to work."

"What's the matter with your King?" asked Dorothy, surprised to hear
the rabbit attendant speak so disrespectfully of his monarch.

"Oh, he doesn't want to be King, that's all; and he simply HAS to,"
was the reply.

"Come!" said the Keeper of the Wicket, sternly; "lead us to his
Majesty; and do not air our troubles before strangers, I beg of you."

"Why, if this girl is going to see the King, he'll air his own
troubles," returned the attendant.

"That is his royal privilege," declared the Keeper.

So the attendant led them into a room all draped with cloth-of-gold
and furnished with satin-covered gold furniture. There was a throne
in this room, set on a dais and having a big, cushioned seat, and on
this seat reclined the Rabbit King. He was lying on his back, with his
paws in the air, and whining very like a puppy-dog.

"Your Majesty! your Majesty! Get up. Here's a visitor," called out
the attendant.

The King rolled over and looked at Dorothy with one watery pink eye.
Then he sat up and wiped his eyes carefully with a silk handkerchief
and put on his jeweled crown, which had fallen off.

"Excuse my grief, fair stranger," he said, in a sad voice.
"You behold in me the most miserable monarch in all the world.
What time is it, Blinkem?"

"One o'clock, your Majesty," replied the attendant to whom the
question was addressed.

"Serve luncheon at once!" commanded the King. "Luncheon for
two--that's for my visitor and me--and see that the human has some
sort of food she's accustomed to."

"Yes, your Majesty," answered the attendant, and went away.

"Tie my shoe, Bristle," said the King to the Keeper of the Wicket.
"Ah me! how unhappy I am!"

"What seems to be worrying your Majesty?" asked Dorothy.

"Why, it's this king business, of course," he returned, while the
Keeper tied his shoe. "I didn't want to be King of Bunnybury at all,
and the rabbits all knew it. So they elected me--to save themselves
from such a dreadful fate, I suppose--and here I am, shut up in a
palace, when I might be free and happy."

"Seems to me," said Dorothy, "it's a great thing to be a King."

"Were you ever a King?" inquired the monarch.

"No," she answered, laughing.

"Then you know nothing about it," he said. "I haven't inquired who
you are, but it doesn't matter. While we're at luncheon, I'll tell
you all my troubles. They're a great deal more interesting than
anything you can say about yourself."

"Perhaps they are, to you," replied Dorothy.

"Luncheon is served!" cried Blinkem, throwing open the door, and in
came a dozen rabbits in livery, all bearing trays which they placed
upon the table, where they arranged the dishes in an orderly manner.

"Now clear out--all of you!" exclaimed the King. "Bristle, you may
wait outside, in case I want you."

When they had gone and the King was alone with Dorothy he came down
from his throne, tossed his crown into a corner and kicked his ermine
robe under the table.

"Sit down," he said, "and try to be happy. It's useless for me to
try, because I'm always wretched and miserable. But I'm hungry,
and I hope you are."

"I am," said Dorothy. "I've only eaten a wheelbarrow and a piano
to-day--oh, yes! and a slice of bread and butter that used to be
a door-mat."

"That sounds like a square meal," remarked the King, seating himself
opposite her; "but perhaps it wasn't a square piano. Eh?"

Dorothy laughed.

"You don't seem so very unhappy now," she said.

"But I am," protested the King, fresh tears gathering in his eyes.
"Even my jokes are miserable. I'm wretched, woeful, afflicted,
distressed and dismal as an individual can be. Are you not
sorry for me?"

"No," answered Dorothy, honestly, "I can't say I am. Seems to me that
for a rabbit you're right in clover. This is the prettiest little
city I ever saw."

"Oh, the city is good enough," he admitted. "Glinda, the Good
Sorceress, made it for us because she was fond of rabbits. I don't
mind the City so much, although I wouldn't live here if I had my
choice. It is being King that has absolutely ruined my happiness."

"Why wouldn't you live here by choice?" she asked.

"Because it is all unnatural, my dear. Rabbits are out of place in
such luxury. When I was young I lived in a burrow in the forest. I
was surrounded by enemies and often had to run for my life. It was
hard getting enough to eat, at times, and when I found a bunch of
clover I had to listen and look for danger while I ate it. Wolves
prowled around the hole in which I lived and sometimes I didn't dare
stir out for days at a time. Oh, how happy and contented I was then!
I was a real rabbit, as nature made me--wild and free!--and I even
enjoyed listening to the startled throbbing of my own heart!"

"I've often thought," said Dorothy, who was busily eating, "that it
would be fun to be a rabbit."

"It IS fun--when you're the genuine article," agreed his Majesty.
"But look at me now! I live in a marble palace instead of a hole in
the ground. I have all I want to eat, without the joy of hunting for
it. Every day I must dress in fine clothes and wear that horrible
crown till it makes my head ache. Rabbits come to me with all sorts
of troubles, when my own troubles are the only ones I care about.
When I walk out I can't hop and run; I must strut on my rear legs and
wear an ermine robe! And the soldiers salute me and the band plays
and the other rabbits laugh and clap their paws and cry out: 'Hail to
the King!' Now let me ask you, as a friend and a young lady of good
judgment: isn't all this pomp and foolishness enough to make a decent
rabbit miserable?"

"Once," said Dorothy, reflectively, "men were wild and unclothed and
lived in caves and hunted for food as wild beasts do. But they got
civ'lized, in time, and now they'd hate to go back to the old days."

"That is an entirely different case," replied the King. "None of you
Humans were civilized in one lifetime. It came to you by degrees.
But I have known the forest and the free life, and that is why I
resent being civilized all at once, against my will, and being made a
King with a crown and an ermine robe. Pah!"

"If you don't like it, why don't you resign?" she asked.

"Impossible!" wailed the Rabbit, wiping his eyes again with his
handkerchief. "There's a beastly law in this town that forbids it.
When one is elected a King, there's no getting out of it."

"Who made the laws?" inquired Dorothy.

"The same Sorceress who made the town--Glinda the Good. She built the
wall, and fixed up the City, and gave us several valuable enchantments,
and made the laws. Then she invited all the pink-eyed white rabbits
of the forest to come here, after which she left us to our fate."

"What made you 'cept the invitation, and come here?" asked the child.

"I didn't know how dreadful city life was, and I'd no idea I would be
elected King," said he, sobbing bitterly. "And--and--now I'm It--with
a capital I--and can't escape!"

"I know Glinda," remarked Dorothy, eating for dessert a dish of
charlotte russe, "and when I see her again, I'll ask her to put
another King in your place."

"Will you? Will you, indeed?" asked the King, joyfully.

"I will if you want me to," she replied.

"Hurroo--huray!" shouted the King; and then he jumped up from the
table and danced wildly about the room, waving his napkin like a flag
and laughing with glee.

After a time he managed to control his delight and returned to the table.

"When are you likely to see Glinda?" he inquired.

"Oh, p'raps in a few days," said Dorothy.

"And you won't forget to ask her?"

"Of course not."

"Princess," said the Rabbit King, earnestly, "you have relieved me of a
great unhappiness, and I am very grateful. Therefore I propose to
entertain you, since you are my guest and I am the King, as a slight
mark of my appreciation. Come with me to my reception hall."

He then summoned Bristle and said to him: "Assemble all the nobility
in the great reception hall, and also tell Blinkem that I want
him immediately."

The Keeper of the Wicket bowed and hurried away, and his Majesty
turned to Dorothy and continued: "We'll have time for a walk in the
gardens before the people get here."

The gardens were back of the palace and were filled with beautiful
flowers and fragrant shrubs, with many shade and fruit trees and
marble-paved walks running in every direction. As they entered this
place Blinkem came running to the King, who gave him several orders
in a low voice. Then his Majesty rejoined Dorothy and led her through
the gardens, which she admired very much.

"What lovely clothes your Majesty wears!" she said, glancing at the
rich blue satin costume, embroidered, with pearls in which the King
was dressed.

"Yes," he returned, with an air of pride, "this is one of my favorite
suits; but I have a good many that are even more elaborate. We have
excellent tailors in Bunnybury, and Glinda supplies all the material.
By the way, you might ask the Sorceress, when you see her, to permit
me to keep my wardrobe."

"But if you go back to the forest you will not need clothes," she said.

"N--o!" he faltered; "that may be so. But I've dressed up so long
that I'm used to it, and I don't imagine I'd care to run around naked
again. So perhaps the Good Glinda will let me keep the costumes."

"I'll ask her," agreed Dorothy.

Then they left the gardens and went into a fine, big reception hall,
where rich rugs were spread upon the tiled floors and the furniture
was exquisitely carved and studded with jewels. The King's chair was
an especially pretty piece of furniture, being in the shape of a
silver lily with one leaf bent over to form the seat. The silver
was everywhere thickly encrusted with diamonds and the seat was
upholstered in white satin.

"Oh, what a splendid chair!" cried Dorothy, clasping her hands admiringly.

"Isn't it?" answered the King, proudly. "It is my favorite seat, and I
think it especially becoming to my complexion. While I think of it, I
wish you'd ask Glinda to let me keep this lily chair when I go away."

"It wouldn't look very well in a hole in the ground, would it?"
she suggested.

"Maybe not; but I'm used to sitting in it and I'd like to take it
with me," he answered. "But here come the ladies and gentlemen of the
court; so please sit beside me and be presented."



21. How the King Changed His Mind


Just then a rabbit band of nearly fifty pieces marched in, playing
upon golden instruments and dressed in neat uniforms. Following the
band came the nobility of Bunnybury, all richly dressed and hopping
along on their rear legs. Both the ladies and the gentlemen wore
white gloves upon their paws, with their rings on the outside of the
gloves, as this seemed to be the fashion here. Some of the lady
rabbits carried lorgnettes, while many of the gentlemen rabbits wore
monocles in their left eyes.

The courtiers and their ladies paraded past the King, who introduced
Princess Dorothy to each couple in a very graceful manner. Then the
company seated themselves in chairs and on sofas and looked
expectantly at their monarch.

"It is our royal duty, as well as our royal pleasure," he said, "to
provide fitting entertainment for our distinguished guest. We will
now present the Royal Band of Whiskered Friskers."

As he spoke the musicians, who had arranged themselves in a corner,
struck up a dance melody while into the room pranced the Whiskered
Friskers. They were eight pretty rabbits dressed only in gauzy purple
skirts fastened around their waists with diamond bands. Their whiskers
were colored a rich purple, but otherwise they were pure white.

After bowing before the King and Dorothy the Friskers began their
pranks, and these were so comical that Dorothy laughed with real
enjoyment. They not only danced together, whirling and gyrating
around the room, but they leaped over one another, stood upon their
heads and hopped and skipped here and there so nimbly that it was
hard work to keep track of them. Finally, they all made double
somersaults and turned handsprings out of the room.

The nobility enthusiastically applauded, and Dorothy applauded with them.

"They're fine!" she said to the King.

"Yes, the Whiskered Friskers are really very clever," he replied.
"I shall hate to part with them when I go away, for they have often
amused me when I was very miserable. I wonder if you would ask Glinda--"

"No, it wouldn't do at all," declared Dorothy, positively. "There
wouldn't be room in your hole in the ground for so many rabbits,
'spec'ly when you get the lily chair and your clothes there. Don't
think of such a thing, your Majesty."

The King sighed. Then he stood up and announced to the company:

"We will now hold a military drill by my picked Bodyguard
of Royal Pikemen."

Now the band played a march and a company of rabbit soldiers came in.
They wore green and gold uniforms and marched very stiffly but in
perfect time. Their spears, or pikes, had slender shafts of polished
silver with golden heads, and during the drill they handled these
weapons with wonderful dexterity.

"I should think you'd feel pretty safe with such a fine Bodyguard,"
remarked Dorothy.

"I do," said the King. "They protect me from every harm. I suppose
Glinda wouldn't--"

"No," interrupted the girl; "I'm sure she wouldn't. It's the King's
own Bodyguard, and when you are no longer King you can't have 'em."

The King did not reply, but he looked rather sorrowful for a time.

When the soldiers had marched out he said to the company:

"The Royal Jugglers will now appear."

Dorothy had seen many jugglers in her lifetime, but never any so
interesting as these. There were six of them, dressed in black satin
embroidered with queer symbols in silver--a costume which contrasted
strongly with their snow-white fur.

First, they pushed in a big red ball and three of the rabbit jugglers
stood upon its top and made it roll. Then two of them caught up a
third and tossed him into the air, all vanishing, until only the two
were left. Then one of these tossed the other upward and remained
alone of all his fellows. This last juggler now touched the red ball,
which fell apart, being hollow, and the five rabbits who had
disappeared in the air scrambled out of the hollow ball.

Next they all clung together and rolled swiftly upon the floor. When
they came to a stop only one fat rabbit juggler was seen, the others
seeming to be inside him. This one leaped lightly into the air and
when he came down he exploded and separated into the original six.
Then four of them rolled themselves into round balls and the other
two tossed them around and played ball with them.

These were but a few of the tricks the rabbit jugglers performed, and
they were so skillful that all the nobility and even the King
applauded as loudly as did Dorothy.

"I suppose there are no rabbit jugglers in all the world to compare
with these," remarked the King. "And since I may not have the
Whiskers Friskers or my Bodyguard, you might ask Glinda to let me take
away just two or three of these jugglers. Will you?"

"I'll ask her," replied Dorothy, doubtfully.

"Thank you," said the King; "thank you very much. And now you shall
listen to the Winsome Waggish Warblers, who have often cheered me in
my moments of anguish."

The Winsome Waggish Warblers proved to be a quartette of rabbit
singers, two gentlemen and two lady rabbits. The gentlemen Warblers
wore full-dress swallow-tailed suits of white satin, with pearls for
buttons, while the lady Warblers were gowned in white satin dresses
with long trails.

The first song they sang began in this way:


"When a rabbit gets a habit
Of living in a city
And wearing clothes and furbelows
And jewels rare and pretty,
He scorns the Bun who has to run
And burrow in the ground
And pities those whose watchful foes
Are man and gun and hound."


Dorothy looked at the King when she heard this song and noticed
that he seemed disturbed and ill at ease.

"I don't like that song," he said to the Warblers. "Give us something
jolly and rollicking."

So they sang to a joyous, tinkling melody as follows:


"Bunnies gay
Delight to play
In their fairy town secure;
Ev'ry frisker
Flirts his whisker
At a pink-eyed girl demure.
Ev'ry maid
In silk arrayed
At her partner shyly glances,
Paws are grasped,
Waists are clasped
As they whirl in giddy dances.
Then together
Through the heather
'Neath the moonlight soft they stroll;
Each is very
Blithe and merry,
Gamboling with laughter droll.
Life is fun
To ev'ry one
Guarded by our magic charm
For to dangers
We are strangers,
Safe from any thought of harm."


"You see," said Dorothy to the King, when the song ended, "the rabbits
all seem to like Bunnybury except you. And I guess you're the only
one that ever has cried or was unhappy and wanted to get back to your
muddy hole in the ground."

His Majesty seemed thoughtful, and while the servants passed around
glasses of nectar and plates of frosted cakes their King was silent
and a bit nervous.

When the refreshments had been enjoyed by all and the servants had
retired Dorothy said:

"I must go now, for it's getting late and I'm lost. I've got to find
the Wizard and Aunt Em and Uncle Henry and all the rest sometime
before night comes, if I poss'bly can."

"Won't you stay with us?" asked the King. "You will be very welcome."

"No, thank you," she replied. "I must get back to my friends. And I
want to see Glinda just as soon as I can, you know."

So the King dismissed his court and said he would himself walk with
Dorothy to the gate. He did not weep nor groan any more, but his long
face was quite solemn and his big ears hung dejectedly on each side
of it. He still wore his crown and his ermine and walked with a
handsome gold-headed cane.

When they arrived at the room in the wall the little girl found Toto
and Billina waiting for her very patiently. They had been liberally
fed by some of the attendants and were in no hurry to leave such
comfortable quarters.

The Keeper of the Wicket was by this time back in his old place, but
he kept a safe distance from Toto. Dorothy bade good bye to the King
as they stood just inside the wall.

"You've been good to me," she said, "and I thank you ever so much. As
soon as poss'ble I'll see Glinda and ask her to put another King in
your place and send you back into the wild forest. And I'll ask her
to let you keep some of your clothes and the lily chair and one or two
jugglers to amuse you. I'm sure she will do it, 'cause she's so kind
she doesn't like any one to be unhappy."

"Ahem!" said the King, looking rather downcast. "I don't like to
trouble you with my misery; so you needn't see Glinda."

"Oh, yes I will," she replied. "It won't be any trouble at all."

"But, my dear," continued the King, in an embarrassed way, "I've been
thinking the subject over carefully, and I find there are a lot of
pleasant things here in Bunnybury that I would miss if I went away.
So perhaps I'd better stay."

Dorothy laughed. Then she looked grave.

"It won't do for you to be a King and a cry-baby at the same time,"
she said. "You've been making all the other rabbits unhappy and
discontented with your howls about being so miserable. So I guess
it's better to have another King."

"Oh, no indeed!" exclaimed the King, earnestly. "If you won't say
anything to Glinda I'll promise to be merry and gay all the time,
and never cry or wail again."

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