The day after our arrival at Lha-Ri, the Leang-Tai, or purveyor, instead of coming to pay an official visit to the staff of the caravan, contented himself with sending us, by way of card, a leaf of red paper on which were inscribed the letters of his name; he added, by the mouth of his messenger, that a severe illness confined him to his room. Ly-Kouo-Ngan said to us, in a whisper, and with a sly laugh, “The Leang-Tai will recover as soon as we are gone.” When we were left alone, he said, “Ah, I knew how it would be: every time a caravan passes, Leang-Tai-Sue (the name of the Mandarin) is at death’s door; that is well understood by everybody. According to the usages of hospitality, he should have prepared for us to-day a feast of the first class, and it is to avoid this, that he feigns illness. The Leang-Tai-Sue is the most avaricious man imaginable; he never dressed better than a palanquin bearer; he eats tsamba like a barbarian of Thibet. He never smokes, he never plays, he never drinks wine; in the evening his house is not lighted; he gropes his way to bed in the dark, and rises very late in the morning, for fear of being hungry too early. Oh, a creature like that is not a man; ’tis a mere tortoise-egg! The ambassador Ki-Chan is resolved to dismiss him, and he will do well. Have you any Leang-Tais of this kind in your country?” “What a question! The Leang-Tais of the kingdom of France never go to bed without a candle, and when the oulah passes through their town, they never fail to get ready a good dinner.” “Ah, that is the thing! those are the rites of hospitality! but this Sue-Mou-Tchou—” at these words we burst into a hearty fit of laughter. “By-the-by,” asked we, “do you know why the Leang-Tai-Sue is called Sue-Mou-Tchou; the name seems to us somewhat ignoble?” “Ignoble, indeed; but it has reference to a very singular anecdote. Leang-Tai-Sue, before he was sent to Lha-Ri, exercised the functions of Mandarin in a small district of the province of Kiang-Si. One day, two labourers presented themselves at his tribunal, and besought him to give judgment in the matter of a sow, which they both claimed. Judge Sue pronounced thus his decision: ‘Having separated truth from fiction, I see clearly that this sow belongs neither to you, nor to you; I declare, therefore, that it belongs to me: respect this judgment.’ The officers of the court proceeded to take possession of the sow, and the judge had it sold in the market. Since that occurrence, Mandarin Sue has been always called Sue-Mou-Tchou (Sue the sow).” The recital of this story made us deeply regret that we must depart without seeing the physiognomy of this interesting individual.