As a relish with the rice, fish is generally eaten. This may be fresh or stale, fried or fermented. The stale fish eaten by the natives may be recognised from afar owing to its powerful perfume. Such forms of food, especially when they have the additional attraction of a particularly pungent flavour, are held in high esteem. Decaying prawn well covered with fiery pepper is a delicacy keenly appreciated. Eggs that have been salted and preserved are also considered palatable. Amongst the other dainties that figure on the menu may be mentioned the seeds and stalks of the sacred lotus, the stem of the young bamboo, peas, beans, sugar-cane, several kinds of weeds and blossoms, every kind of fruit obtainable, chilies, mango-chutney, cocoa-nut milk, and fat pork. The favourite sauce is called "Nam-prik" or "pepper-water." Red pepper is bruised in a mortar and then made into a paste with shrimps or prawns in a condition politely described as "high." To this is added black pepper, garlic and onions. Brine and citron juice give to the compound the necessary liquidity. A little ginger is also considered a desirable ingredient. This sauce is said to be decidedly efficacious in stimulating a jaded appetite. Being accustomed to this highly seasoned kind of diet, the Siamese fail as a rule to appreciate the more delicate flavours of the European table, which they describe as being perfectly insipid. They excel in the art of preparing fruit, and they can remove the hard kernels from all stone fruit, with such skill that when placed upon the table, the eye fails to discover from its external appearance, that the natural condition of the fruit has been in any way altered. The meal is washed down with a draught of canal water. There are no water-works, and as the poor cannot afford to buy receptacles in which to store up rain water, they are forced during the dry season to drink the filthy sewage-water of the canals. Needless to state, cholera epidemics are by no means infrequent. The floor of the kitchen is of plaited bamboo, like most of the walls. Through the cracks are thrown all the scraps that remain when breakfast or dinner is finished. The cooking water, the old bits of meat, bone, and fish, the skins of fruits, and most other domestic refuse are similarly disposed of. There is always a crowd of bony, hungry pariahs lying in wait beneath the kitchen floor, ready to snap up the bits as they fall. It is well for the inhabitants that these canine waifs and strays do thus frequent their habitations, for in the absence of any salaried scavengers, they would otherwise become veritable pest-houses. The little furniture that the kitchen boasts, is not of any great value. There is the fireplace,--a wooden box, or earthen stove; a few earthenware pots; a few china and brass basins; some old kerosine tins, which are used for carrying water; a few baskets; a kettle and a small table; an old stool or up-turned box.