There we hung, dangling and bobbing about in front of each other in the most ridiculous way, the dear Wallypug still clinging to his carpet-bag with one hand, while in the other he clutched a half-eaten sandwich. I shall never forget his Majesty’s surprised expression when he found himself hanging up the air in this unexpected way.
“Like being a bird, isn’t it?” he remarked when at last he found a voice.
“H’m, not much,” I replied. “I feel more like a fish at the end of this line. I wish some one would come and help us off. There’s a hook, or something, sticking into my shoulder, and it hurts no end.” You see there was evidently something at the end of the lines which had caught into our clothes, and the hook, or whatever it was, just touched my shoulder. It did not hurt very much, but just enough to make me feel uncomfortable.
“I wonder where we are,” said the Wallypug, looking about him. “What a funny colour everything is, to be sure.”— [Page 98].
Wallypugland.
“I wonder where we are,” said the Wallypug, looking about him. “What a funny color everything is, to be sure.”
“Yes, isn’t it?” I replied. And truly it was a most remarkable scene. There was a curious little kind of temple in the distance and a number of most extraordinary-looking trees; and these, and the grass, and, in fact, everything that could be seen, were of a bright blue tint.