through? He was an officer.

It was not customary for the regular crew of any ship to make a landing on this part of the African coast. For this service a tribe of hardy blacks, Kroomen they were called, provided expert boatmen to any ship on coast station. They knew how to ride the surf, and the best man-o'-war's man was but a novice to them. But for the last three days even the blacks had declared the surf too heavy for safe landing, and now Bobby and his cutter were going to try it, much against their wills.

As the broken roaring water rushed down upon them the noise drowned even his thoughts, and as it caught the boat full astern each man held his breath. But the oars pulling furiously kept the cutter's nose in the right direction, and catching the impetus, she tore shoreward like a runaway engine. After the first shock it was exciting. Bobby even forgot the danger. He noticed the unlucky chest turning over and over in the foam, and peering ahead he became aware for the first time that they were nearing the outlet of a small river that debouched into the sea.

The surf was running high up on the beach, and frothing across a bar at the river's mouth, where a little island made a delta on each side. No sooner had he noticed this when he saw something else—a score of naked black figures running up the sand. Now the Majuba tribes are cannibals. Bobby's heart stood still. To provide a Christmas dinner to a lot of hungry savages was not a pleasant prospect.

"Pull, port! hold, starboard!" shouted the young commander. The men bent to their oars, and, wonder of wonders, with a great heave and a twist the cutter crossed the bar, and shot up on a wave between the green shelving banks of an unknown river, where a white man's boat had never been before. Keeping well to the centre of the stream, the cutter at last reached smooth water, and Bobby found himself standing up, his knees trembling slightly, and not one hundred yards away a horde of the evilest-looking wild black men he had ever set his eyes on. Something had to be done, and to take advantage of their surprise was his first thought. "Why not sing?" he murmured out loud. They were waiting for some demonstration, evidently.

But as the rest of this narrative would make a long story in itself, it is best to let Midshipman Seymour tell it shortly, as he did in the letter to his sister Dorothy, which he wrote three days later.

"Dear little Sis [it ran]—You will have to write again and tell me the name of the kitten, for I have lost your beautiful letter before I could finish reading it. And the fine bead-work pin-cushion, full of the very sharpest pins, I had to give away, and Jack's six-bladed knife, and Nell's fancy-work purse, and mother's silk handkerchief, and grandma's silk gloves, and the package of rock-candy; in fact, everything you sent me now belongs to a great ugly cannibal king whose name is Matagoolah. But all this means a story, so I will tell it as quickly as I can. On Christmas day I was sent out from the ship with my boat's crew to pick up something that was floating in the water. It proved to be a chest from the slaver Nightingale that had burned up 'way out to sea. As we rowed along we were caught in the surf, and by good luck were carried up a little river that no one knew existed. I tell you your red-headed brother was very badly frightened when he saw a lot of savages standing on the bank. I thought, 'Oh, if grandma could only see me now!' The savages were so astonished that they did not do anything, and I thought I'd make believe I came to see them on purpose.

"So I signaled out an old fellow who appeared to be a chief, and making my very best bow, I began to sing, very solemnly and loudly, 'Haul the bow-line; well I love my darling,' and the men all joined in the chorus. Then I thought of the only presents I had—which were yours—and rowing up close, I had four of the crew carry me ashore, where I presented everything I had to the chief, singing the only thing that came into my head—'Hail Columbia!'—at the top of my voice. It was quite funny. When he saw the pin-cushion he was so delighted; and as he received one thing after another he began to grin and chatter. But the rock-candy! My! when he tasted it I was afraid he was going to eat me up for joy! He gave some orders, and all of his men threw down their spears and fell flat on their faces. So I ordered my crew to come ashore, which they did, pretty well frightened.

"Now what to do I did not know; but looking towards the ship, which was some three miles out to sea, I saw a puff of smoke, and I knew they were firing one of the big guns as a signal to call back the other boats, so I lifted up my hands and waved them; then as the report came I bent down low, and all of my men did the same. This time the chief himself fell on his knees! But what will you suppose I saw also? The big chest that I had started out to get! It was rolling up in the surf near the beach. At once I began to make motions as if I were hauling something in with a rope, and told four of my crew to go fetch the chest from the sea. When they plunged in and brought it out the savages looked scared to death. And breaking it open, what do you suppose it contained? Why, beads and knives and trinkets, a big brass crown—in fact, a complete trader's outfit, enough to have bought fifty slaves and more. That settled it. The king would have given me the heads of half his people.

"Well, to make it short, we were feasted and treated, and I am afraid prayed to for two days. I kept a flag flying from a tree-top; the trees are not tall, but I knew they could see it from the ship, and yesterday they managed to land three boats with more presents for my black friends, and took us off. But I really believe that it was your 'Merry Xmas' pin-cushion that saved our lives. Make me another, tell me the name of the kitten, and whether you are having good coasting; and take lots of love and kisses for all.

"From your loving brother,
"Rob."

And this is the story of a rather unusual Christmas day, and explains the reason why Bobby Seymour was given the title of "Envoy Extraordinary to his Majesty King Matagoolah, Ruler of the Majubas."

THE FREYS' CHRISTMAS PARTY.

BY RUTH McENERY STUART.

There was a great sensation in the old Coppenole house three days before Christmas.

The Freys, who lived on the third floor, were going to give a Christmas dinner party, and all the other tenants were invited.

Such a thing had never happened before, and, as Miss Penny told her canary-birds while she filled their seed-cup, it was "like a clap of thunder out of a clear sky."

The Frey family, consisting of a widow and her brood of half a dozen children, were as poor as any of the tenants in the old building, for wasn't the mother earning a scant living as a beginner in newspaper work? Didn't the Frey children do every bit of the house-work, not to mention little outside industries by which the older ones earned small incomes? Didn't Meg send soft gingerbread to the Christian Woman's Exchange twice a week, and Ethel find time, with all her studies, to paint butterflies on Swiss aprons for fairs or fêtes?

Didn't everybody know that Conrad, now but thirteen, was a regular solicitor for orders for Christmas trees, palmetto palms, and gray moss from the woods for decorative uses on holiday occasions?

The idea of people in such circumstances as these giving dinner parties! It was almost incredible, but it was true, for tiny notes of invitation tied with rose-colored ribbons had been flying over the building all the afternoon. The Frey twins, Felix and Félicie, both barefoot, had carried one to each door.

They were written with gold ink on pink paper,