that you might pass through the ring on your little finger,--these, and
a great many other indescribable objects, were all familiar to me. I
pushed my way through the dimly-lighted warehouse, until I reached the
back office, or parlor, where I found Hop Sing waiting to receive me.

Before I describe him, I want the average reader to discharge from
his mind any idea of a Chinaman that he may have gathered from the
pantomime. He did not wear beautifully scalloped drawers fringed with
little bells (I never met a Chinaman who did); he did not habitually
carry his forefinger extended before him at right angles with his body;
nor did I ever hear him utter the mysterious sentence, "Ching a ring
a ring chaw;" nor dance under any provocation. He was, on the whole,
a rather grave, decorous, handsome gentleman. His complexion, which
extended all over his head, except where his long pig-tail grew, was
like a very nice piece of glazed brown paper-muslin. His eyes were black
and bright, and his eyelids set at an angle of fifteen degrees; his nose
straight, and delicately formed; his mouth small; and his teeth white
and clean. He wore a dark blue silk blouse; and in the streets, on cold
days, a short jacket of astrachan fur. He wore, also, a pair of drawers
of blue brocade gathered tightly over his calves and ankles, offering
a general sort of suggestion, that he had forgotten his trousers that
morning, but that, so gentlemanly were his manners, his friends had
forborne to mention the fact to him. His manner was urbane, although
quite serious. He spoke French and English fluently. In brief, I doubt
if you could have found the equal of this Pagan shopkeeper among the
Christian traders of San Francisco.

There were a few others present,--a judge of the Federal Court, an
editor, a high government official, and a prominent merchant. After we
had drunk our tea, and tasted a few sweetmeats from a mysterious jar,