One funny old man, who bore a ludicrous resemblance, to a friend of mine at home, was almost indignant.
"Ung-lung! "said he, "who ever heard of such a name ?--ang lang--anger-lung--that can't be the name of your country; you are playing with us." Then he tried to give a convincing illustration.

"My country is Wanumbai--anybody can say Wanumbai.

I'm an orang-Wanumbai; but, N-glung! who ever heard of such a name?
Do tell us the real name of your country, and then when you are gone we shall know how to talk about you." To this luminous argument and remonstrance I could oppose nothing but assertion, and the whole party remained firmly convinced that I was for some reason or other deceiving them.

They then attacked me on another point--what all the animals and birds and insects and shells were preserved so carefully for.

They had often asked me this before, and I had tried to explain to them that they would be stuffed, and made to look as if alive, and people in my country would go to look at them.
But this was not satisfying; in my country there must be many better things to look at, and they could not believe I would take so much trouble with their birds and beasts just for people to look at.