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Updated: May 27, 2025
"I never heard of any kangaroo wearing mittens." "Didn't you?" asked the animal, as if surprised. "Never!" repeated the girl. "And you'll probably make yourself sick if you don't stop crying. Where do you live?" "About two miles beyond Fuddlecumjig," was the answer. "Grandmother Gnit made me the mittens, and she's one of the Fuddles."
"Why, I've been to both," she replied; "but first I went to Utensia, which isn't on any path at all." She then sat down and related the day's adventures, and you may be sure Aunt Em and Uncle Henry were much astonished at the story. "But after seeing the Cuttenclips and the Fuddles," remarked her uncle, "we ought not to wonder at anything in this strange country."
"Well, you'd better go home now, and perhaps the old lady will make you another pair," suggested Dorothy. "We're on our way to Fuddlecumjig, and you may hop along beside us." So they rode on, and the kangaroo hopped beside the red wagon and seemed quickly to have forgotten her loss. By and by the Wizard said to the animal: "Are the Fuddles nice people?"
For myself, I care nothing for the gift of interpretation, and far less for that dreadful type of effete facility which produces a kind of hocus-pocus technical brilliancy which fuddles the eye with a trickery, and produces upon the untrained and uncritical mind a kind of unintelligent hypnotism.
"I should think she would get used to your coming, and not be afraid," said Dorothy. "It isn't that," replied the kangaroo. "They're not a bit afraid, when they're put together, and usually they're very jolly and pleasant. It's just a habit they have, to scatter themselves, and if they didn't do it they wouldn't be Fuddles."
"For my part, I'm glad we visited the Fuddles." How the General Talked to the King When General Guph returned to the cavern of the Nome King his Majesty asked: "Well, what luck? Will the Whimsies join us?" "They will," answered the General. "They will fight for us with all their strength and cunning." "Good!" exclaimed the King. "What reward did you promise them?"
Sands his sugar and brown-papers his teas philanthropically, for the good of the public, and denounces men who put in Old Squareface and whisky-pegs, as he fuddles himself with his loquat brandy after shop-hours in the sitting-room back of the store. But let us be thankful that Providence has sent Brooker on a special mission to play Pantaloon in this grimmish little interlude of ours.
"Well, if you are a-stoppin' at Sir Littleeared Bighead's, you escape the flight by night, and go to bed and think of homeland natur'. Next mornin', or rather next noon, down to breakfast. Oh, it's awfully stupid! That second nap in the mornin' always fuddles the head, and makes it as mothery as ryled cyder grounds.
Just right now, I'm here. It's up to you to back out away out clean outside and across the street." The Pilgrim did not move. Billy had been drinking, but his brain was not of the stuff that fuddles easily, and he was not, as the Pilgrim believed, drunk. His eyes when he stared hard at the Pilgrim were sober eyes, sane eyes and something besides.
Think of it; you'll do the popular thing, I'm sure. I've a superstition that Flitch ought to drive you from the church-door. If I were in luck, I'd have him drive me." "The man's a drunkard, Horace." "He fuddles his poor nose. 'Tis merely unction to the exile. Sober struggles below. He drinks to rock his heart, because he has one. Now let me intercede for poor Flitch." "Not a word of him.
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