On to these few scattered leaves Lord Li poured the boiling water, which he immediately covered with the lid. In a few moments he removed the latter, and taking the half-side of the lid instead of a spoon, stirred the surface of the tea. This he did about three times in a minute, by which time the water was slightly yellow and the leaves had all sunk to the bottom. “Now it is ready,” he said; “remember, no sugar nor milk, _ever_!” “But it is too hot to drink,” I said. “Not too hot for a Chinaman, we drink it like that. But if it is too hot for you, we will pour it out,” and putting the versatile lid on the table so that it formed a saucer, he poured some tea into it. “Do you drink it from the saucer like that?” “Yes; those people who cannot take it so hot always do so. Otherwise, or when it is cooler, we drink it so,” and he put the lid back in the cup, but only half _on_ in a slanting way, and made me sip the tea through the aperture at the side. “What is the idea of that?” I said. “To keep the tea hot and to hold back the leaves, because you see our cup is also our teapot.” It really was both nice and refreshing. “How many cups does your Excellency drink in a day?” I enquired. “Always twenty, sometimes thirty.” “Good heavens! How do you do it?” “The better-class Chinaman gets up when it is light and goes to bed when it is dark. I cannot do that in London because you keep me out so late at night, but I am called at half-past seven, when I get a cup of tea; with my bath I have another cup of tea. With my breakfast at eight-thirty I have rice, vermicelli, fish, fruit, and more tea. Then I go down to my office, and during all the hours from nine to half-past twelve, when I am working with my secretaries, we all drink tea every half-hour or so, and some smoke pipes, but not opium. That is rare in China. Next comes lunch; but you must come and have a real Chinese luncheon and see how we eat it with chopsticks. Not an official party such as you have been to before at my house. Then it is the French cook, but my own cook, when I am alone, is a Chinaman. “At four in the afternoon we have our third meal, and for the first time no tea, but cakes and light things. At half-past seven we dine, a dozen little dishes all at once. Then, if I were in China, I should go to bed, but as I am in London, I do as London does.” “Last thing at night I still drink tea. The kettle is always boiling at the Legation, the cup is always ready, and my servant puts in the tea and pours on the water; then by the time it reaches me it is ready.” The Chinese Minister is a very interesting man, and having finished our tea-party, during which he laughingly suggested that I should give him a certificate as a good cook, he told me many interesting things by way of exciting my interest and persuading me to write a book on China.