But, then, everything, in this world, is relative.
Racial types seem to be a failure: when they become very marked, the race deteriorates or vanishes.

In the counties of England, after only a thousand years, the women you meet in the rural districts and country towns all look like sisters.

The Asiatics, of course, are much more sunk in type than the Anglo-Saxons; and they show us the way we would be going.

Only, there is hope in rapid transit and the cosmopolitan spirit, and especially in these United States, which bring together the ends of the earth, and place side by side a descendant of the Puritans like Freeman, and a daughter of Irak-Ajemi.
"What are you coming to California for, Mr.Freeman ?" Freeman had already told her what he had been in the Isthmus for,--to paddle in miasmatic swamps with a view to the possibility of a canal in the remote, speculative future.

He had given her a graphic and entertaining picture of the hideous and inconceivable life he had led there for six months, from which he had emerged the only member of a party of nineteen (whites, blacks, and yellows) who was not either dead by disease, by violence, or by misadventure, or had barely escaped with life and a shattered constitution.