“I thought,” said Amos Parr, “that the Feejees were cannibals, and that whoever was wrecked or cast ashore on their coasts was killed and roasted, and eat up at once.”

“So ye’re right,” rejoined Buzzby; “but Providence sent the crew to one o’ the islands that had bin visited by a native Christian missionary from one o’ the other islands, and the people had gin up some o’ their worst practices, and wos thinkin’ o’ turnin’ over a new leaf altogether.  So the crew wos spared, and took to livin’ among the natives, quite comfortable like.  But they soon got tired and took to their boats agin, and left.  Mrs. Ellice, however, determined to remain and help the native Christians, till a ship should pass that way.  For three years nothin’ but canoes hove in sight o’ that lonesome island; then, at last, a brig came, and cast anchor off shore.  It wos an Australian trader that had been blown out o’ her course on her way to England, so they took poor Mrs. Ellice aboard, and brought her home—­and that’s how it wos.”

Buzzby’s outline, although meagre, is so comprehensive that we do not think it necessary to add a word.  Soon after he had concluded, the guests of the evening came in, and the conversation became general.

“Buzzby’s jollification,” as it was called in the village, was long remembered as one of the most interesting events that had occurred for many years.  One of the chief amusements of the evening was the spinning of long yarns about the incidents of the late voyage, by men who could spin them well.

Their battles in the Polar Seas were all fought over again.  The wondering listeners were told how Esquimaux were chased and captured; how walruses were lanced and harpooned; how bears were speared and shot; how long and weary journeys were undertaken on foot over immeasurable fields of ice and snow; how icebergs had crashed around their ship, and chains had been snapped asunder, and tough anchors had been torn from the ground or lost; how schools had been set agoing and a theatre got up; and how, provisions having failed, rats were eaten—­and eaten, too, with gusto.  All this and a great deal more was told on that celebrated night—­sometimes by one, sometimes by another, and sometimes, to the confusion of the audience, by two or three at once, and, not unfrequently, to the still greater confusion of story-tellers and audience alike, the whole proceedings were interrupted by the outrageous yells and turmoil of the two indomitable young Buzzbys, as they romped in reckless joviality with Dumps and Poker.  But at length the morning light broke up the party, and stories of the World of Ice came to an end.

* * * * *

And now, reader, our tale is told.  But we cannot close without a parting word in regard to those with whom we have held intercourse so long.