itself thus concerning these countries: "The Thibetians, who
inhabit the district of Djaya, are of a haughty and fierce character; all
attempts to subdue them have been fruitless, they are considered very
ferocious; it is their natural character." What the Chinese writer calls
"fierce character," is nothing more in reality than ardent patriotism,
and a very just hatred of a foreign yoke.

A day's rest having sufficiently repaired our strength, we quitted Djaya.
It is unnecessary to add that the Chinese were obliged to pay, and in
ready money, for the hire of the oulah. The Thibetians of the country
were too ferocious to furnish us gratuitously with oxen and horses. We
travelled for two days, through a country extremely low, where we
frequently found small villages and black tents grouped in the valleys.
We were often obliged to traverse wooden bridges, in order to cross
sometimes calm and quiet streams, and at other times torrents, the
impetuous waters of which rolled on with a terrible noise. Shortly
before our arrival at the station of Adzou-Thang, we overtook the party
which was accompanying the coffin of the deceased Liang-Tai to Bagoung.
The son also had just died in a black tent, after a few hours' frightful
agony. The caravan, having no chief, was in a complete state of
disorganisation; most of the soldiers of the escort had dispersed, after
pillaging the baggage of their Mandarin; three only had remained, who
were devising the best means of effecting the conveying of the two bodies
to China. They despaired of being able to continue their journey in so
small a number; so that the arrival of our caravan extricated them from a
great difficulty. The conveyance of the father's body had been arranged
at Bagoung; that of the son remained unsettled. The carriers of his
palanquin had refused to undertake the carriage, for they foresaw that
there would not be money enough to pay them for their trouble. To place
the coffin on an ox was impracticable; there was no inducing a Thibetian
guide to allow one of their animals to carry a corpse, much less the
corpse of a Chinese. We were obliged to have recourse to stratagem. The
body of the last deceased Mandarin was secretly cut into four pieces, and
then packed in a box, which we put among the general luggage, making the
Thibetians believe that in honour of filial piety, the body of the son
had been laid beside that of his father, in the same coffin.

The two corpse