were singularly infantine in their natural simplicity.  The living representatives of the oldest civilization in the world, they seemed like children.  Yet they kept their beliefs and sympathies to themselves, never fraternizing with the fanqui, or foreign devil, or losing their singular racial qualities.  They indulged in their own peculiar habits; of their social and inner life, San Francisco knew but little and cared less.  Even at this early period, and before I came to know them more intimately, I remember an incident of their daring fidelity to their own customs that was accidentally revealed to me.  I had become acquainted with a Chinese youth of about my own age, as I imagined,—­although from mere outward appearance it was generally impossible to judge of a Chinaman’s age between the limits of seventeen and forty years,—­and he had, in a burst of confidence, taken me to see some characteristic sights in a Chinese warehouse within a stone’s throw of the Plaza.  I was struck by the singular circumstance that while the warehouse was an erection of wood in the ordinary hasty Californian style, there were certain brick and stone divisions in its interior, like small rooms or closets, evidently added by the Chinamen tenants.  My companion stopped before a long, very narrow entrance, a mere longitudinal slit in the brick wall, and with a wink of infantine deviltry motioned me to look inside.  I did so, and saw a room, really a cell, of fair height but scarcely six feet square, and barely able to contain a rude, slanting couch of stone covered with matting, on which lay, at a painful angle, a richly dressed Chinaman.  A single glance at his dull, staring, abstracted eyes and half-opened mouth showed me he was in an opium trance.  This was not in itself a novel sight, and I was moving away when I was suddenly startled by the appearance of his hands, which were stretched helplessly before him on his body, and at first sight seemed to be in a kind of wicker cage.

I then saw that his finger-nails were seven or eight inches long, and were supported by bamboo splints.  Indeed, they were no longer human nails, but twisted and distorted quills, giving him the appearance of having gigantic claws.  “Velly big Chinaman,” whispered my cheerful friend; “first-chop man—­high classee—­no can washee—­no can eat—­no dlinke, no catchee him own glub allee same nothee man—­China boy must catchee glub for him, allee time!  Oh, him first-chop man—­you bettee!”

I had heard of this singular custom of indicating caste before, and was amazed and disgusted, but I was not prepared for what followed.  My companion, evidently thinking he had impressed me, grew more reckless as showman, and saying to me, “Now me showee you one funny thing—­heap makee you laugh,” led me hurriedly across a little courtyard swarming with chickens and rabbits, when he stopped before another inclosure.  Suddenly brushing past an astonished Chinaman who seemed to be standing guard, he thrust