Dot and Tot of Merryland is a 1901 novel by L. Frank Baum, who also wrote The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. He wrote this story about the adventures of a little girl named Dot and a little boy named Tot in Merryland which is reached by a river which flowed through a tunnel. Merryland is split into seven valleys. The book was illustrated by artist W. W. Denslow, who had illustrated three previous Baum books.
Evangeline "Dot" Freeland is sent to her rich father's country estate Roselawn for her health. She soon meets the gardener's son "Tot" Thompson, who becomes her friend and playmate. One day, they have a picnic and sit in a boat they find by the river, which gets away and takes them to a passage in a cliff face that brings them to the magical country of Merryland.
Merryland is made of seven valleys, arranged in a circular pattern connected by a river running through them. The first valley is populated by clowns, the second is a land in which everything—including the people—is entirely made of candy, and the third the valley where babies grow from blossoms before storks deliver them to their parents. The fourth valley is populated by living dolls and is also the home of the Queen of Merryland, a large wax doll who makes Dot and Tot her adopted children. After Dot and Tot have a day of running the valley by themselves, the queen joins Dot and Tot to see the remaining three valleys.
The fifth valley is populated entirely by cats, the sixth valley is run by Mr. Split, who makes wind up animals. The final valley is the Valley of Lost Things, where every lost item goes. Tot finds a doll he'd lost and is allowed to take it with him. The Queen decides to allow Dot and Tot to travel onward, which will take them back to Roselawn, but she will close the way to Merryland forever. Returning to the river, Dot is found by her father who notices that she no longer looks sickly. Tot deduces that the Queen of Merryland—who was either interrupted or forgot to answer when asked her name—must be named "Dolly."
KEYWORDS/TAGS: L Frank Baum, Dot, Tot, Merryland, Queen, boat, little, Valley, girl, children, big, man, look, river, long, white, dolls, house, boy, room, candy, cry, eyes, eat, pretty, people, right, voice, hand, basket, Clowns, left, soft, Majesty, music, found, ever, good, Scallops, soon, just, exclaim, place, feet, day, soldiers, wooden, course, shore, water, bank, well, old, return, houses, Split, table, world, home, face, country, Captain, palace, child, play, run, great, declare, village, cover, sleep, fairy, archway, babies, Twinkle, animals, laughter, Prince, Stork, paint, street, Flippityflop, beautiful, number, wand, wish, carriage, Princess
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L. Frank Baum
Author Of The Oz Series of Books
Originally Published by
Geo M Hill, Chicago
Abela Publishing, London
Dot and Tot of Merryland
Typographical arrangement of this edition
© Abela Publishing 2018
This book may not be reproduced in its current format in any manner in any media, or transmitted by any means whatsoever, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, or mechanical ( including photocopy, file or video recording, internet web sites, blogs, wikis, or any other information storage and retrieval system) except as permitted by law without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The success achieved last year by "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz"—a book that not only ran through many large editions, but brought the author hundreds of letters from interested little folks—has induced me to follow that tale with another, herein presented.
Should "Dot and Tot of Merryland" win the approval of my young friends, I shall be pleased and contented.
In any event Mr. Denslow's quaint and merry pictures, which, in this book excel all his previous work, will be sure to induce happiness in the heart of every beholder.
L. FRANK BAUM.
Chicago, July 1, 1901.
To ev'ry laughter-loving Tot—Whether your name be Dot or not;And may you find a MerrylandForever lying close at hand.
IV.—Under the Cliffs
V.—The Watch-Dog of Merryland
VI.—The First Valley
VII.—The Clown Country
VIII.—The Second Valley
IX.—The Third Valley
X.—The Queen of Merryland
XI.—The Palace of Wonders
XII.—Prince Tot and Princess Dot
XIII.—The Revolt of the Dolls
XIV.—The Queen's Fairy Wand
XV.—The Valley of Pussycats
XVI.—The Busy Mr. Split
XVII.—The Animals that Wound Up
XVIII.—The Valley of Lost Things
XIX.—The Lost Crowns
XX.—The Voyage Ends
YOU should have seen Dot as she nestled among the cushions of the carriage on her way to the railway station with her father and governess, Miss Bombien. Her dainty white gown was covered with tucks and puffings and embroideries, as became the dress of the daughter of the wealthy banker who sat smilingly beside her. Her soft, braided white hat had a wide brim that drooped languidly over the pale little face beneath, and broad, white ribbons drew down the brim until all the yellow curls were hidden away. Indeed, the only bits of color about Dot that showed were her deep blue eyes and rosy lips. Even these last were not so rosy as they should have been, for Dot was not in her usual good health, having been confined to the big city house during a long winter and a chill, uncomfortable spring.
But, now that the flowers were blooming and the birds singing in the new-leaved trees, she was going, in charge of her governess, to pass the summer at Roselawn, a beautiful country home her father had recently purchased.
"You must try not to be lonely, dear," said her father, as he held her little hand in his big, strong one. "I have told Miss Bombien to let you run and romp to your heart's content, so the roses may more quickly return to your pale cheeks."
Dot's eyes brightened. To run and romp as she pleased would indeed be a new experience to her, and she was happy even to think of such delight.
"You will have no one but Miss Bombien for company," continued her father; "but there are plenty of servants, and I am told the grounds are in beautiful condition. In a few days, at most, Sweetheart, I shall run down to see you, and then you can tell me how you like your new home. In the meanwhile, Miss Bombien will simply look after your comfort; there will be no lessons to bother you. All you must do is eat and sleep and play, and to grow strong and rosy-cheeked again."
Dot listened to all this with much pleasure, and decided she was about to have a fine holiday. Her real name, by the way, was Evangeline Josephine Freeland; but mamma and papa had always called her "Dot" from the day she was born, so sometimes she almost forgot she had such a beautiful name as Evangeline Josephine.
Dot's mamma was an invalid, and had been taken by her father—Dot's grandfather, you know—for a trip to Europe, in search of better health, and so she had been forced to leave her little daughter to the watchful care of Miss Bombien. Mr. Freeland, although he loved Dot dearly, was a very busy man and could devote but little time to his child. "So, Sweetheart," he told her, "you will be Queen of Roselawn this summer, and I will come down once in a while to bow before your Majesty's throne."
What he really feared was that Dot might grow up weak and delicate as her mother was; but he did not tell the child this. He resolved, however, that if fresh air and healthy surroundings could give his little girl strength and health, they should be at her command, and therefore he had purchased Roselawn almost entirely on Dot's account.
Before she realized it, Dot found herself at the railway station and aboard a parlor car, where her father gave her a long and loving farewell kiss. Then Mr. Freeland stood upon the platform and waved his hand to his daughter, while the train slowly glided out from the station and began its journey into the sweet, fresh country.
Roselawn won the girl's heart at first sight. The cool but sun-kissed mansion seemed delightful after the stuffy, formal city house. It was built in a quaint yet pretty fashion, with many wings and gables and broad verandas on every side. Before it were acres and acres of velvety green lawn, sprinkled with shrubbery and dotted with beds of bright flowers. In every direction were winding paths, covered with white gravel, which led to all parts of the grounds, looking for all the world like a map, Dot thought.
From the first day of her arrival, Dot was all eagerness and joy. Miss Bombien fully obeyed her instructions to let the child run. Dot entered the house only to eat her meals, which she did with growing appetite, and then away she would romp to chase butterflies, visit the stables or poultry yard, or sit near the river bank and watch the driftwood float by. Sometimes a boat danced over the broad, blue waters, and then Dot would jump up and down and clap her hands in ecstasy at the pretty sight. The river soon became her favorite resort, for the green banks and terraces before the house ran down to the water's edge.
Miss Bombien passed her days in hammock swung under a side porch, where she read a great many books and enjoyed herself in her own way. She did not bother to watch Dot, thinking the child could get into no mischief beyond a torn frock or a soiled face.
One morning, having finished her breakfast and scampered out upon the lawn, as usual, Dot chanced to notice a tiny path that led through a small opening in a high and thick hedge. She had never been in this direction before, and although she had often seen the hedge, she had not thought there was a way to pass through it. So a spirit of adventure came over her.
"I'll explore," said Dot to herself.
Pat, pat, patter went the little feet on the gravel, and soon the busy hedge was reached and the opening passed.
Then Dot stopped suddenly and looked around. A cozy little vine-covered cottage nearly surrounded by blooming posies, was before her. From the doorway, however, a path led to Dot's feet, and sitting in the middle of this path, slowly piling pebbles into his broad-brimmed straw hat, was a little boy.
THE boy was a year or two younger than Dot, and seemed a chubby little fellow as he sat with his legs spread apart and his dark eyes raised wonderingly to the face of his unexpected visitor. Waves of brown hair clustered loosely about his broad forehead, and his dress was neat, though of a coarse material.
He paused in his play and stared hard at Dot for a moment; then dropped his eyes bashfully and ran his fingers through the white pebbles in an embarrassed way.
"Who are you?" asked the girl, in the calm, matter-of-fact tone peculiar to children, while she continued to regard the boy with the interest of a discoverer.
"Tot," was the low reply.
"Tot who?" she demanded.
"Tot Tompum," murmured the boy.
"Tompum! That doesn't mean anything," said Dot, decidedly.
This positive statement seemed to annoy the little fellow. He raised his eyes half shyly a moment and said, in a louder voice:
"Papa Tompum cuts the grass, an' makes the flowers grow. I'm Tot Tompum."
"Oh," said Dot; "you must mean Thompson. Thompson's the gardener, I know, and gardeners make the flowers grow and cut the grass."
The boy nodded his head twice as if to say she was right.
"Gard'ner," he repeated. "Papa Tompum. I'm Tot Tompum."
Then he took courage to look up again, and seeing a friendly smile upon Dot's face he asked boldly, "Who is you?"
"Oh, I'm Dot," she answered, sitting down beside him. "My whole name is Dot Freeland."
"Dot F'eelan'," said Tot.
"Freeland," corrected Dot.
"F'eelan'," said Tot.
"Never mind," laughed the girl; "let us play together. What were you doing with the pebbles?"
"Jack-stones," said the boy, and gravely picking out five of the white pebbles, nearly of one size, he tossed them into the air and tried to catch them on the back of his hand. Two tumbled off, and Dot laughed. The boy laughed, too, and tried it again. Before long they had become fast friends, and were laughing and chatting together as happily as if they had known one another for months.
Tot's mother, hearing their voices, came to the door of her cottage; but seeing her boy's new playmate was "the young lady at the mansion," she smiled and returned to her work.
Presently Dot jumped up.
"Come, Tot," she cried, "let us go where your father is working. I saw him weeding one of the flower beds this morning."
Tot scrambled to his feet and poured the white pebbles from his hat, after which he placed it upon the back of his head; so far back, indeed, that Dot wondered why it did not tumble off.
"We'll go see Papa Tompum," he said, trotting along beside his new friend.
Thompson, the gardener, was quite surprised to see his little boy holding fast to the hand of the rich banker's daughter, and chatting away as frankly as if he had known her for years; but Thompson had learned by this time that Dot ruled everyone about the place and did exactly as she pleased, so he made no protest. As he watched the children running about the grounds where Tot was usually forbidden to play, Thompson felt proud that his boy had been selected by "the young lady" for so high and honorable a position as her playmate.
He made no protest when they raced across a flower bed and left the prints of their small feet upon the soft earth, for Dot held Tot firmly by the hand, and he obediently followed wherever she led. The big red roses attracted her fancy, and she ruthlessly plucked a handful and stuck them in rows around the rim of Tot's hat as well as her own, although the poor gardener, who had tended these flowers so patiently that they had become precious in his eyes, actually winced and shivered with dismay at witnessing the careless and, to him, cruel manner in which the young mistress of the house destroyed them. But Dot knew they were her property and enjoyed the roses in her own way; while Tot, although he may have felt guilty, wisely shifted all responsibility to his companion, and admired the royal way in which she accepted everything about the place as her very own.
When the luncheon gong sounded from the big house, and Dot left Tot to obey the summons, she said to him, "Tomorrow I will bring a basket of sandwiches and cake, and we'll have a picnic down by the river bank."
"All right!" answered Tot, and trotted away toward his father's cottage.
It had been an eventful day to him, for he had found a delightful playmate.
Early next morning Dot came out of the house with a basket on her arm so big and heavy she could hardly carry it. Indeed, she stopped several times between the house and the gap in the big hedge to set the basket down while she rested. Once she was sorely tempted to chase a pretty butterfly that fluttered lazily over the lawn nearby; but a glance at the basket and a thought of Tot recalled her to the fact that this was "a picnic day," and so she trudged steadily on and passed through the hedge.
Tot was sitting on the door-step waiting for her. He wore a clean sailor waist and blue brownie overalls, and his face and hands had been freshly washed for the important occasion.
When he saw Dot's basket his eyes grew big and round, and he asked, "What you got?"
"Oh, that's our lunch," said the girl, setting down her burden with a sigh of relief.
"What's lunch?" demanded Tot.
"Why—something to eat, you know," she answered.
"Oh," said Tot. Then he looked at the basket with new interest and asked, "Basket all full somefin' t'eat?"
"Yes," replied Dot, with some pride. "I begged cook to give me all the good things she had in the pantry, 'cause you and I are going to have a picnic, and eat our lunch down by the river. So she filled it way up to the top, 'cause cook always does anything I ask. And it's a great big basket, Tot, too."
"Yes," answered Tot, gravely, "big basket!" Then he jumped up and, all eagerness, approached the basket.
"Let's eat it!" he exclaimed.
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