her, he associated, perhaps, too much with
American children.

"I should have answered your letter before, by post; but I thought that
Wan Lee himself would be a better messenger for this.

"Yours respectfully,

"HOP SING."

And this was the long-delayed answer to my letter to Hop Sing. But where
was "the bearer"? How was the letter delivered? I summoned hastily the
foreman, printers, and office-boy, but without eliciting any thing. No
one had seen the letter delivered, nor knew any thing of the bearer. A
few days later, I had a visit from my laundry-man, Ah Ri.

"You wantee debbil? All lightee: me catchee him."

He returned in a few moments with a bright-looking Chinese boy, about
ten years old, with whose appearance and general intelligence I was so
greatly impressed, that I engaged him on the spot. When the business was
concluded, I asked his name.

"Wan Lee," said the boy.

"What! Are you the boy sent out by Hop Sing? What the devil do you mean
by not coming here before? and how did you deliver that letter?"

Wan Lee looked at me, and laughed. "Me pitchee in top side window."

I did not understand. He looked for a moment perplexed, and then,
snatching the letter out of my hand, ran down the stairs. After a
moment's pause, to my great astonishment, the letter came flying in the
window, circled twice around the room, and then dropped gently, like
a bird upon my table. Before I had got over my surprise, Wan Lee
re-appeared, smiled, looked at the letter and then at me, said, "So,
John," and then remained gravely silent. I said nothing further; but it
was understood that this was his first official act.

His next performance, I grieve to say, was not attended with equal
success. One of our regular paper-carriers fell sick, and, at a pinch,
Wan Lee was ordered to fill his place. To prevent mistakes, he was shown
over the route the previous evening, and supplied at about daylight with
the usual number of subscribers' copies. He returned, after an hour,
in good spirits, and without the papers. He had delivered them all, he
said.

Unfortunately for Wan Lee, at about eight o'clock, indignant subscribers
began to arrive at the office. They had received their copies; but how?
In the form of hard-pressed cannon-balls, delivered by a single shot,
and a mere tour de force, through the glass of bedroom-windows. They had
received them full in the face, like a base ball, if they happened to be
up and stirring; they h