a warm spring evening, I am quite sure that before he has been there long he will conclude that there is something decaying in town. He will be surprised to find that all these smells that are so unpleasant to him do not seem in the least to affect his neighbors, who seem to enjoy their meals with a relish that reminds him of a drove of pigs under a sour apple tree.
The meals furnished are not elaborate, but, to say the least of them, they are bountiful. They are all very much alike, it matters little what meal it may chance to be; whether breakfast, dinner, or supper, it will be much the same. Rice is the staff of life in this country, and takes a much more important place than does bread in other countries. A huge bowl filled with rice, not only filled, but piled high above the top of the bowl, is always the principal part of the meal. There may be, if in season, a bowl of greens of some sort, often only such weeds as can be gathered from the mountain side, sometimes such as are grown in the fields near the house, but always boiled only in water without seasoning of any sort. The rice is served just as it comes from the pot where it has been boiled in clear water without even salt. The Koreans are not tea or coffee drinkers; thousands of them have never seen a cup of either. At their meals they drink hot water, by which I mean the water that is poured into the rice pot as soon as the rice is removed from it. The rice is never stirred while cooking, and so it leaves a little rice sticking to the pot that is usually a little scorched and browned. When water is poured into this and it is washed out the water is
