enough, of all these different racial types, the Mongol seemed the
most self-satisfied. The Yankee was continually bustling about,
feeding passengers, transporting trunks, or hammering car-wheels; the
Negroes were joking with the Indians, who appeared stolidly apathetic
or resigned; the Mexicans stood apart in sullen gloom, as if
secretly mourning their lost estate; but Sing Lee looked about him
with a cheerful calmness which seemed indicative of absolute
contentment and his face wore, continually, a complacent smile. What
strange varieties of human destiny these men present, I thought as I
surveyed them: the Indian and the Mexican stand for the hopeless
Past; the Anglo-Saxon and the Negro for the active Present; while
Sing Lee is a specimen of that yellow race which is embalmed in its
own conservatism, like a fly in amber.

[Illustration: LOOKING BACK AT THE MOUNTAINS.]

[Illustration: A CALIFORNIA RANCH SCENE.]

[Illustration: INDIAN HUTS.]

[Illustration: "A FALLEN RACE."]

[Illustration: A MEXICAN HOUSE AND FAMILY.]

[Illustration: THE BLOSSOMING WILDERNESS.]

[Illustration: COMPLACENT MONGOLS.]

[Illustration: CHARACTERISTIC SCENERY.]