here: you are its godfathers."

There were two characteristic peculiarities of any Californian
assemblage in 1856,--it was quick to take a hint, and generous to the
point of prodigality in its response to any charitable appeal. No
matter how sordid or avaricious the individual, he could not resist the
infection of sympathy. I doubled the points of my handkerchief into
a bag, dropped a coin into it, and, without a word, passed it to the
judge. He quietly added a twenty-dollar gold-piece, and passed it to the
next. When it was returned to me, it contained 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