Curry is made of all sorts of things, but is usually a combination of meat or fish and vegetables. If you want an English name for it that all can understand you must call it a _stew_. The ingredients are chopped very fine or pounded in a mortar, especially the red peppers, onions and spices. The predominant flavor is red pepper, so hot and fiery that your mouth will smart and burn for half an hour after you have eaten it. Still, many of the curries are very nice, and with boiled rice furnish a good meal. But sometimes “broth of abominable things is in their vessels,” as, for instance, when they make curry of rats or bats or of the meat of animals that have died of disease; and they flavor it with _kapick_, a sort of rotten fish of which all Siamese are inordinately fond. Its chief peculiarity is that it “smells to heaven” and is unrivaled in the strength of its flavor. Siam is unique in that she produces two of the most abominable, and yet the most delicious, things, if we believe what we hear. These are, first, the durian, a large fruit found only on this peninsula; and, second, kapick, which I hope is not found anywhere outside of Siam. But to return to the kitchen: it has no chimney, and the smoke finds its way out as best it can, so that nearly everything is black and sooty. There is but little furniture except the fireplace, the rice-pots, a kettle and perhaps a frying-pan, and baskets of various shapes and sizes, one pair being daubed within and without with pitch and used to carry water. There is a little stool, a foot square and six inches high, that they call a table, and on which they place the curry and fish and sliced vegetables, while those who eat squat like toads about it, each having on the floor before him a bowl of rice, which is replenished from a larger dish near by or directly from the rice-pot in the fireplace. There is no regularity about their meals, and they do not wait for one another, but eat whenever they get hungry. In the higher families the men always eat first and by themselves, and the wives and children and dogs take what is left. The usual rule is for each one to wash his own rice-bowl and turn it upside down in a basket in the corner of the room, there to drip and dry till the next time it is needed. They eat with their fingers, very few having even so much as a spoon, and they do not use the wafer-like bread so common in the Levant, which the Syrians double into a kind of three-cornered spoon, and, dipping up some _kibby_, or camel-stew, or rice, eat down spoon and all.