China and the West

Norris, Frank. McTeague : a story of San Francisco. (New York, N.Y. : Doubleday & McClure Co, 1899).
http://www.gutenberg.org/files/165/165.txt.
McTeague remembered his mother, too, who, with the help of the Chinaman, cooked for forty miners…
There were corner drug stores with huge jars of red, yellow, and green liquids in their windows, very brave and gay; stationers' stores, where illustrated weeklies were tacked upon bulletin boards; barber shops with cigar stands in their vestibules; sad-looking plumbers' offices; cheap restaurants, in whose windows one saw piles of unopened oysters weighted down by cubes of ice, and china pigs and cows knee deep in layers of white beans…
This little army of workers, tramping steadily in one direction, met and mingled with other toilers of a different description--conductors and "swing men" of the cable company going on duty; heavy-eyed night clerks from the drug stores on their way home to sleep; roundsmen returning to the precinct police station to make their night report, and Chinese market gardeners teetering past under their heavy baskets…
Across the flats, at the fringe of the town, were the dump heaps, the figures of a few Chinese rag-pickers moving over them…
"Ah, the Chinese cigar-makers," cried Marcus, in a passion, brandishing his fist…
I put in the ears and tail with a drop of glue, and paint it with a 'non-poisonous' paint—Vandyke brown for the horses, foxes, and cows; slate gray for the elephants and camels; burnt umber for the chickens, zebras, and so on; then, last, a dot of Chinese white for the eyes, and there you are, all finished…
They haunted the house-furnishing floors of the great department houses, inspecting and pricing ranges, hardware, china, and the like…
On rainy days their servants--the Chinese cooks or the second girls--took their places…
This woman was French, and was known to the flat as Augustine, no one taking enough interest in her to inquire for her last name; all that was known of her was that she was a decayed French laundress, miserably poor, her trade long since ruined by Chinese competition…
She burnt pastilles and Chinese punk, and even, as now, coffee on a shovel, all to no purpose…
She turned the little figures in her fingers with a wonderful lightness and deftness, painting the chickens Naples yellow, the elephants blue gray, the horses Vandyke brown, adding a dot of Chinese white for the eyes and sticking in the ears and tail with a drop of glue…
Then a touch of ivory black with a small flat brush created the tail and mane, and dots of Chinese white made the eyes…