If a stranger should enter the eastern gate in the morning, his attention would be attracted by a large concourse of women, who seem to be dressed alike, as all wear skirts with horizontal stripes and have their shining black hair combed straight back and looped into a beautiful knot, which needs no pin to secure it. In this market very few men are to be seen; the women dress as do the Siamese men. Each market-woman carries everything in two large neat baskets, which are suspended from each end of a long, flat, flexible bamboo stick which lies on her shoulder. Some of these women are seated on mats, with market-baskets at their sides, while others are hurrying hither and thither. On the right side of the street is a woman in whose baskets are vegetables, for which she wishes salt in exchange. Over on the other side of the street is a woman with rice to sell, but she prefers silver. Silver is superseding salt as a medium of exchange. By her side is another woman with bouquets of flowers, for which she finds a ready sale; the purchasers carefully wrap them in banana-leaves, and after sprinkling a little water over them deposit them in a cool place until evening. Late in the afternoon the owner, if a lady, will appear with the flowers tastefully arranged in her hair, while a gentleman would wear his blossom in a hole in the lobe of his ear. Unless the market-women have been successful in their business they do not leave the market until the increasing heat of the sun reminds them that it is time to retrace their steps homeward. Should you wish to accompany one of these women home, she would make you heartily welcome. On reaching the house you would first ascend several steps to the front veranda, which is usually, but not always, covered. From this veranda you would enter the front room or open court, where the daughter of the house spreads a clean mat on the floor for you and gives you a large three-cornered pillow on which you may rest one of your elbows. As a mark of hospitality a tray or box of betel-nut and seri-leaf will be set before you, and the invitation given to help yourself. Though you decline, you will be interested in watching those who may be seated beside you preparing their quid. The seri- or betel-leaf is taken first, and its tip overlaid with a minute quantity of slaked lime; then a pinch of finely-cut tobacco, a piece of cutch the size of a pea and the fourth of a dried areca-nut are wrapped in the seri-leaf, completing the mixture, which is chewed with evident enjoyment. To foreigners this is a very offensive custom, but so universal is it among both old and young that a box of these ingredients is carried with them in a bag suspended from the shoulders.