The colours of the Mei hoa are never brilliant, yet is the flower always pleasing: in fragrance or neatness the fo-cheou has no equal: the fruit of the pine is aromatick, its odour inviting. In gratifying at once the sight, the smell and the taste, nothing exceeds these three things: and if, at the same time, you put, upon a gentle fire, an old pot, with three legs, grown black and battered with length of service, after having first filled it with the limpid water of melted snow; and if, when the water is heated to a degree that will boil a fish, or redden a lobster, you pour it directly into a cup made of the earth of yue, upon the tender leaves of superfine tea; and if you let it rest there, till the vapours which rises at first in great abundance, forming thick clouds, dissipate by degrees, and at last appear merely as a slight mist upon the surface; and if then you gently sip this delicious beverage, it is labouring effectually to remove the five causes of discontent which usually disturb our quiet: you may feel, you may taste, but it is impossible to describe the sweet tranquillity which a liquor, thus prepared, procures. Retired, for some space of time, from the tumults of business, I sit alone in my tent, at liberty to enjoy myself unmolested: in one hand holding a fo-cheou, which I bring nearer to my nose, or put it farther off, at pleasure; in the other hand holding my dish of tea, upon which some pretty curling vapours still appear: I taste, by intervals the liquor; by intervals, I consider the mei-hoa--I give a fillip to my imagination, and my thoughts are naturally turned towards the sages of antiquity.--I figure to myself the famous Ou-tsuen, whose only nourishment was the fruit of the pine; he enjoyed himself in quiet, amidst this rigid frugality! I envy, and wish to imitate him.--I put a few of the kernels into my mouth; I find them delicious. Sometimes, methinks, I see the virtuous Lin-fou, bending into form, with his own hands, the branches of the mei-hoa-chou. It was thus, say I to myself, that he relieved his mind, after the fatigues of profound meditation, on the most interesting subjects. Then I take a look at my shrub, and it seems as if I were assisting Lin-fou, in bending its branches into a new form.--I skip from Lin-fou to Tchao-tcheon, or to Yu-tchouan; and see the first in the middle of a vast many tea-cups, filled with all kinds of tea, of which he sometimes tastes one, sometimes another; thus varying incessantly his potation: while the second drinks, with the profoundest indifference, the best tea, and scarcely distinguishes it from the vilest stuff.--My taste is not their's; why should I attempt to imitate them?----