"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