In spite of the commandment, "thou shalt not take the life of any living thing," undoubtedly the most important Thou shalt not--in the Buddhist creed, with the penalty of the lowest hell for its violation,--there is no lack of fishermen. Theoretically, they are the lowest of the low. But if all fishermen were to die to-day--their places would be filled to-morrow, and the market still be supplied. The natives want fish seven days in the week, if they can get it. But not even a fresh-meat or fresh fish-curry is satisfactory to the native palate until flavoured with dried fish, or with "nga-pee." In the Bazar may be found smoked and dried fish in great variety, very tempting to the native, but betraying the fact that too many hours under a tropical sun were allowed before curing. This fish is often eaten raw, in blissful ignorance of the microbe theory,--indifference would be the better word, for their "microbes" frequently are visible to the naked eye. If these organisms have not actually eaten part of the fish, they are considered so much clear gain to the consumer. Such food is largely responsible for the great demand for a strong vermifuge in the treatment of sickness. Now we come to "nga-pee" proper, regarded by the Burmans and several other races, as essential to a well-flavoured meal. "The smell of nga-pee is certainly not charming to an uneducated nose,"--said a writer on Burmese customs,--a statement that has passed unchallenged. There are many varieties of nga-pee, but to all the remark quoted may be applied. The most common is called fish-paste or "Burmese butter," made from the smaller fish which are caught in large quantities, as smelts are in the home-land. The fish are spread on mats under a tropical sun, just as they come from the water, and left there until in a condition which an "uneducated nose" would not care to investigate.