he fates ever drove me that way again, I
would go ashore and see how the people were getting on. The fates,
however, were a long time in drawing me that way again, for it was not
until July, ten years ago that I reached there the second time. I was
off on a yachting trip, with an English friend, when one afternoon we
dropped anchor off that Cannibal Island.

"'Let's go ashore,' said I. 'What for?' said my host; and then I told
him the story and we went, and it was well we did so, for it was then
and there that I discovered the new way the missionaries had of
celebrating Decoration Day.

"No sooner had we landed than we noticed that the Island had become
civilised. There were churches, and instead of tents and mud-hovels,
beautiful residences appeared here and there, through the trees. 'I
fancy this isn't the island,' said my host. 'There aren't any
cannibals about here.' I was about to reply indignantly, for I was
afraid he was doubting the truth of my story, when from the top of a
hill, not far distant, we heard strains of music. We went to see
whence it came, and what do you suppose we saw? Five hundred
villainous looking cannibals marching ten abreast along a fine street,
and, cheering them from the balconies of the houses that fronted on
the highway, were the missionaries and their friends and their
children and their wives.

"'This can't be the place, after all,' said my host again.

"'Yes it is,' said I, 'only it has been converted. They must be
celebrating some native festival.' Then as I spoke the procession
stopped and the head missionary followed by a band of beautiful girls,
came down from a platform and placed garlands of flowers and beautiful
wreaths on the shoulders and heads of those reformed cannibals. In
less than an hour every one of the huge black fellows was covered with
roses and pinks and fragrant flowers of all kinds, and then they
started on parade again. It was a fine sight, but I couldn't
understand what it was all done for until that night, when I dined
with the head missionary--and what do you suppose it was?"

"I give it up," said Diavolo, "maybe the missionaries thought the
cannibals didn't have enough clothes on."

"I guess I can't guess," said Angelica.

"They were celebrating Decoration Day," said Mr. Munchausen. "They
were strewing flowers on the graves of departed missionaries."

"You didn't tell us about any graves," said Diavolo.

[Illustration: "They were celebrating Deco