He turned round without a quiver.

"You're a Scotchman, sir?" he said gravely. "So am I; I come from
Aberdeen. This is my card," presenting me with a piece of
pasteboard which he had raked out of some gutter in the period of
the rains. "I was just examining this palm," he continued,
indicating the misbegotten plant before our door, "which is the
largest spAcimen I have yet observed in Califoarnia."

There were four or five larger within sight. But where was the use
of argument? He produced a tape-line, made me help him to measure
the tree at the level of the ground, and entered the figures in a
large and filthy pocket-book, all with the gravity of Solomon. He
then thanked me profusely, remarking that such little services were
due between countrymen; shook hands with me, "for add lang syne,"
as he said; and took himself solemnly away, radiating dirt and
humbug as he went.

A month or two after this encounter of mine, there came a Scot to
Sacramento--perhaps from Aberdeen. Anyway, there never was any one
more Scotch in this wide world. He could sing and dance, and
drink, I presume; and he played the pipes with vigour and success.
All the Scotch in Sacramento became infatuated with him, and spent
their spare time and money, driving him about in an open cab,
between drinks, while he blew himself scarlet at the pipes. This
is a very sad story. After he had borrowed money from every one,
he and his pipes suddenly disappeared from Sacramento, and when I
last heard, the police were looking for him.

I cannot say how this story amused me, when I felt myself so