college,” said Professor Wogglebug, complacently, “is a great success. Its educational value is undisputed, and we are turning out many great and valuable citizens every year.”
“But when do they study?” asked Dorothy.
“Study?” said the Wogglebug, looking perplexed at the question.
“Yes; when do they get their ‘rithmetic, and jogerfy, and such things?”
“Oh, they take doses of those every night and morning,” was the reply.
“What do you mean by doses?” Dorothy inquired, wonderingly.
“Why, we use the newly invented School Pills, made by your friend the Wizard. These pills we have found to be very effective, and they save a lot of time. Please step this way and I will show you our Laboratory of Learning.”
He led them to a room in the building where many large bottles were standing in rows upon shelves.
“These are the Algebra Pills,” said the Professor, taking down one of the bottles. “One at night, on retiring, is equal to four hours of study. Here are the Geography Pills—one at night and one in the morning. In this next bottle are the Latin Pills—one three times a day. Then we have the Grammar Pills—one before each meal—and the Spelling Pills, which are taken whenever needed.”
“Your scholars must have to take a lot of pills,” remarked Dorothy, thoughtfully. “How do they take ‘em, in applesauce?”
“No, my dear. They are sugar-coated and are quickly and easily swallowed. I believe the students would rather take the pills than study, and certainly the pills are a more effective method. You see, until these School Pills were invented we wasted a lot of time in study that may now be better employed in practicing athletics.”
“Seems to me the pills are a good thing,” said Omby Amby, who remembered how it used to make his head ache as a boy to study arithmetic.
“They are, sir,” declared the Wogglebug, earnestly. “They give us an advantage over all other colleges, because at no loss of time our boys become thoroughly conversant with Greek and Latin, Mathematics and Geography, Grammar and Literature. You see they are never obliged to interrupt their games to acquire the lesser branches of learning.”
“It’s a great invention, I’m sure,” said Dorothy, looking admiringly at the Wizard, who blushed modestly at this praise.
“We live in an age of progress,” announced Professor Wogglebug, pompously. “It is easier to swallow knowledge than to acquire it laboriously from books. Is it not so, my friends?”
“Some folks can swallow anything,” said Aunt Em, “but to me this seems too much like taking medicine.”
“Young men in college always have to take their medicine, one way or another,” observed the Wizard, with a smile; “and, as our Professor says, these School Pills have proved to be a great success. One day while I was making them I happened to drop one of them, and one of Billina’s chickens gobbled it up. A few minutes afterward this chick got upon a roost and recited ‘The Boy Stood on the Burning Deck’ without making a single mistake. Then it recited ‘The Charge of the Light Brigade’ and afterwards ‘Excelsior.’ You see, the chicken had eaten an Elocution Pill.”
They now bade goodbye to the Professor, and thanking him for his kind reception mounted again into the red wagon and continued their journey.
10. How the Cuttenclips Lived
The travelers had taken no provisions with them because they knew that they would be welcomed wherever they might go in the Land of Oz, and that the people would feed and lodge them with genuine hospitality. So about noon they stopped at a farmhouse and were given a delicious luncheon of bread and milk, fruits and wheat cakes with maple syrup. After resting a while and strolling through the orchards with their host—a round, jolly farmer—they got into the wagon and again started the Sawhorse along the pretty, winding road.
There were signposts at all the corners, and finally they came to one which read:
TAKE THIS ROAD TO THE CUTTENCLIPS
There was also a hand pointing in the right direction, so they turned the Sawhorse that way and found it a very good road, but seemingly little traveled.
“I’ve never seen the Cuttenclips before,” remarked Dorothy.
“Nor I,” said the Captain General.
“Nor I,” said the Wizard.
“Nor I,” said Billina.
“I’ve hardly been out of the Emerald City since I arrived in this country,” added the Shaggy Man.
“Why, none of us has been there, then,” exclaimed the little girl. “I wonder what the Cuttenclips are like.”
“We shall soon find out,” said the Wizard, with a sly laugh. “I’ve heard they are rather flimsy things.”
The farmhouses became fewer as they proceeded, and the path was at times so faint that the Sawhorse had hard work to keep in the road. The wagon began to jounce, too; so they were obliged to go slowly.
After a somewhat wearisome journey they came in sight of a high wall, painted blue with pink ornaments. This wall was circular, and seemed to enclose a large space. It was so high that only the tops of the trees could be seen above it.
The path led up to a small door in the wall, which was closed and latched. Upon the door was a sign in gold letters reading as follows:
VISITORS are requested to MOVE SLOWLY and CAREFULLY, and to avoid COUGHING or making any BREEZE or DRAUGHT.
“That’s strange,” said the Shaggy Man, reading the sign aloud. “Who ARE the Cuttenclips, anyhow?”
“Why, they’re paper dolls,” answered Dorothy. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Paper dolls! Then let’s go somewhere else,” said Uncle Henry. “We’re all too old to play with dolls, Dorothy.”
“But these are different,” declared the girl. “They’re alive.”
“Alive!” gasped Aunt Em, in amazement.
“Yes. Let’s go in,” said Dorothy.
So they all got out of the wagon, since the door in the wall was not big enough for them to drive the Sawhorse and wagon through it.
“You stay here, Toto!” commanded Dorothy, shaking her finger at the little dog. “You’re so careless that you might make a breeze if I let you inside.”
Toto wagged his tail as if disappointed at being left behind; but he made no effort to follow them. The Wizard unlatched the door, which opened outward, and they all looked eagerly inside.
Just before the
