undeceive him, and yet I felt there was a gulf between us that I could not bridge, try as I might. I could not sympathize with him as I could with the Siberian across the way. His outlook on life was different. How could there be any fellow-feelings between us? How could I understand one who reclined all day in such an artificial atmosphere as this? The Chinaman is no child of nature like the Siberian. He gives one the impression that he is living in another world. And I had an uncomfortable feeling that the Chinaman represented a higher type of civilization than the Siberian, a reflection degrading for me, who could only associate with the latter.
These Chinamen lived here all the year round, and in these wild spots along the Siberian-Mongolian frontier had set their trading stations, which they had built in the same style and adorned with the same taste as any Chinaman would in the heart of the Celestial Empire. Every two or three months one of their number returns to the nearest Chinese town in Mongolia to sell his goods and obtain supplies. In this particular house there were three brothers trading together and dividing the profits, but they had no family, for by Chinese law they had not at that time been allowed to bring their women to these frontier districts. After a few years of this life of exile they generally returned to their families and resumed their old life in Inner China. And so, exiled from wife and family, and living a sedentary life indoors, continually eating messy delicacies in small quantities throughout the day, the Chinese frontier trader passes his life in these remote spots until he has made his money or until death overtakes him. Remarkable business honesty, a great capacity
