rather proud and glad. I wish I had a chance to be a king."
"Oh I know it sounds grand," said he, pulling on his boots miserably. "But the trouble is, you can't take up responsibilities and then just drop them again when you feel like it. I have my own work to do. Scarcely one moment have I had to give to natural history since I landed on this island. I've been doing some one else's business all the time. And now they want me to go on doing it! Why, once I'm made King of the Popsipetels, that's the end of me as a useful naturalist. I'd be too busy for anything. All I'd be then is just a er—er—just a king."
"Well, that's something!" said Bumpo. "My father is a king and has a hundred and twenty wives."
"That would make it worse," said the Doctor—"a hundred and twenty times worse. I have my work to do. I don't want to be a king."
"Look," said Polynesia, "here come the head men to announce your election. Hurry up and get your boots laced."
The throng before our door had suddenly parted asunder, making a long lane; and down this we now saw a group of personages coming towards us. The man in front, a handsome old Indian with a wrinkled face, carried in his hands a wooden crown—a truly beautiful and gorgeous crown, even though
