ned over a hundred dollars. I
knotted the money in the handkerchief, and gave it to Hop Sing.

"For the baby, from its godfathers."

"But what name?" said the judge. There was a running fire of "Erebus,"
"Nox," "Plutus," "Terra Cotta," "Antaeus," &c. Finally the question was
referred to our host.

"Why not keep his own name?" he said quietly,--"Wan Lee." And he did.

And thus was Wan Lee, on the night of Friday, the 5th of March, 1856,
born into this veracious chronicle.

The last form of "The Northern Star" for the 19th of July, 1865,--the
only daily paper published in Klamath County,--had just gone to press;
and at three, A.M., I was putting aside my proofs and manuscripts,
preparatory to going home, when I discovered a letter lying under
some sheets of paper, which I must have overlooked. The envelope was
considerably soiled: it had no post-mark; but I had no difficulty in
recognizing the hand of my friend Hop Sing. I opened it hurriedly, and
read as follows:--

"MY DEAR SIR,--I do not know whether the bearer will suit you; but,
unless the office of 'devil' in your newspaper is a purely technical
one, I think he has all the qualities required. He is very quick,
active, and intelligent; understands English better than he speaks it;
and makes up for any defect by his habits of observation and imitation.
You have only to show him how to do a thing once, and he will repeat
it, whether it is an offence or a virtue. But you certainly know him
already. You are one of his godfathers; for is he not Wan Lee, the
reputed son of Wang the conjurer, to whose performances I had the honor
to introduce you? But perhaps you have forgotten it.

"I shall send him with a gang of coolies to Stockton, thence by express
to your town. If you can use him there, you will do me a favor, and
probably save his life, which is at present in great peril from the
hands of the younger members of your Christian and highly-civilized race
who attend the enlightened schools in San Francisco.

"He has acquired some singular habits and customs from his experience
of Wang's profession, which he followed for some years,--until he became
too large to go in a hat, or be produced from his father's sleeve. The
money you left with me has been expended on his education. He has gone
through the Tri-literal Classics, but, I think, without much benefit. He
knows but little of Confucius, and absolutely nothing of Mencius. Owing
to the negligence of his fat