of his excellency the ambassador of China. “I know,” he said, “I know the religion of the Lord of Heaven is holy; I know it, for I have read its books of doctrine; he who should strictly keep all its precepts would be a man without reproach.” He made a sign to Samdadchiemba to rise; then, turning to us, he said: “It is night, you must be tired; it is time to take supper; you may go; to-morrow, if I want you, I will send for you.” The ambassador Ki-Chan was quite right, it was very late, and the various emotions which had been furnished to us in the course of the evening had not by any means supplied the place of supper. On leaving the Sinico-Thibetian pretorium, we were accosted by a venerable Lama, who informed us that the First Kalon awaited us. We crossed the court, illuminated by some red lanterns; turned on the right, to a perilous staircase, which we ascended, prudently holding on by our conductor’s robe; then, after traversing a long terrace, in the dubious light of the stars, we were introduced to the Regent. The large and lofty room was splendidly lighted by butter-oil lamps, the walls, the ceiling, even the floor, were all covered with gilding and brilliant colours. The Regent was alone; he bade us sit down near himself on a rich carpet, and endeavoured to express by his words, and still more by his gestures, how deep an interest he felt in us. Above all, we clearly understood that he was making arrangements to keep us from starving. Our pantomime was interrupted by the arrival of a person, who left, upon entering, his slippers at the door; it was the governor of the Cashmerian Mussulmen. After having saluted the company, by raising his hand to his forehead, and pronouncing the formula, “Salamalek” he leant against a column, in the centre of the room, which supported the ceiling. The Mussulmen governor spoke Chinese very well; and the Regent had accordingly sent for him to act as interpreter. Immediately upon his arrival, a servant placed before us a small table, and supper was served up to us at the expense of the Thibetian government. We shall not say anything here as to the Regent’s _cuisine_; firstly, because our keen appetite did not permit us to pay sufficient attention to the quality of the dishes; secondly, because that day our minds were more occupied with politics than with gastronomy. All of a sudden we missed Samdadchiemba; we asked what had become of him: “He is with my servants,” answered the Regent; “do not trouble yourselves on his account, he shall not want for anything.”