No European or American walks out doors in India, excepting a promenade early in the morning or late in the evening. They are either carried in palanquins, or, which is more common, they keep a horse and carriage. Observing the good old rule of adopting the custom of the country, I also procured a phaeton and a gray Arab as well as the indispensable Hindoo driver and runner, and I now invite the reader to take a ride with me late in the afternoon, when hundreds of equipages fill the fashionable driveways.

It is five o’clock in the afternoon, and the dim rays of the setting sun allow us to lower the top of the carriage so that we may have an open view all around. But before doing this, we must exchange the white business suit and broad-brimmed Indian hat (which are made of the light pith of an Indian shrub somewhat similar to our elder bush, and covered with a thin layer of cotton) for the conventional black hat and coat, for these people are dreadfully ceremonious. The chandra takes his place in the driver’s seat, and the badon on the steps behind the carriage. They are both dressed in snow-white outer garments, which look a good deal like a common nightgown, and a head dress consisting of ten yards of white muslin, wound several times around the head in the shape of a round turban. The Mohammedan coachmen and runners generally wear the colors of their masters in the same manner as other native servants do. In my case, of course, it was the red, white and blue sashes, belts and turbans. The runner has his place on a step behind the carriage, and it is his duty to jump off and run in front to clear the way whenever it may be necessary.

We start from the Great Eastern hotel, where I first resided, down a long street called Chowringhee road, which is two miles long and very broad, and lined on the east side by English residences built of stone. Every mansion stands in a large garden full of tropical trees and plants, and surrounded by a stone wall five feet high. There are wide double gates for carriage drives, and at these gates the durwan (gate or doorkeeper) sits the whole day long. On the west side of the street runs a double street-car track, and beyond this is an immense common parade or pleasure ground, the Maidan, which extends to the Hoogley, a branch of the Ganges. On the west side it is bounded by the Strand, and on all other sides by a macadamized road about one hundred and fifty feet wide and planted with large, shady trees on either side. The east side of this road is already described. On the north side, from the river to Chowringhee road, between Eden Garden and the palace, it is called the Esplanade. Another hundred-foot-wide road runs south from the palace, and divides the ground into halves. This is called the Red road because it is macadamized with crushed red brick. From the Red road opposite Fort William another great road runs to Chowringhee road. A great number of foot-paths cross each other in all directions, and in the evening these are crowded with people in oriental costumes going to their homes in the suburbs.

Here and there are statues erected to the honor of prominent English generals and statesmen, and certain parts of the grounds are also dotted with small groups of palms and other tropical trees. All these trees and plants are different from those growing in the North. Most of them have very broad and thick leaves, nearly all of them bear beautiful flowers, and many of them fruits. They are green the whole year round. In the north-east corner of the grounds is a garden of about forty acres which is called Eden. It is exceedingly beautiful and contains a great variety of trees and flowers, an Indian pagoda, lakes, canals and bridges, and thousands of birds enjoying an almost undisturbed existence, and singing and twittering among the trees and flowers. Eden Garden is surrounded by a low brick wall with several gates, the widest of which is the one next to the Strand. Inside this gate is a high orchestra stand, and below a square promenade on the fine grass plat. From six to seven o’clock in the evening a military band plays to the fashionable world which gathers here to take an evening walk.

A quarter of a mile below the Eden garden is the historical Fort William, around which Lord Clive and other heroes struggled to found the British Empire of India. Below the fort and next to the Strand is the drill-ground, and below this again a large race course. South of Maidan are several suburbs, and beyond these a zoological garden.

Driving past the imposing orange-colored palace of the viceroy, called the government house, which very much resembles our capitol at Washington, but is neither so large nor so elegant, we finally strike the Esplanade, where the Chowringhee road meets the Red road. We stop a few minutes at the Esplanade to take a look at the gay picture. The Esplanade is crowded with a surging mass of humanity, all going from the river bank to their homes in the Eastern part of the city. It is the sixth day of the new moon, and thousands of men, women and children have been down to the river, washed themselves in its waters, and offered sacrifices consisting of fruits and flowers. The women are dressed in white, red, yellow, green, blue or violet garments. The smallest children sit astride on the left hip of their mothers, the men carry large baskets of fruit, mostly bananas, on their heads for the river-god received only a small portion, and the rest is to be eaten at home. Here and there among the pedestrians is a well-to-do Hindoo who takes his family, consisting of two or three wives and a crowd of children, to the river in an ox-cart. There are hundreds of musicians and peddlers in the throng, and all are joyful and rejoicing. It must be observed that only people of the lower classes take part in such public demonstrations in company with women and children. Fashionable women would never walk beyond the gardens around their own houses and do not appear in company.

Soon carriages are seen passing by in long rows, either down the Red road or to the right along the Esplanade toward the Strand. We follow the latter and arrive at the river bank where thousands of people are yet busy with their sacrifices or trading with peddlers for fancy goods and dainties, while others listen to the music from peculiarly constructed flutes and drums, which vie with each other in producing the most ear-rending discord. Elegantly covered carriages swarm in four lines up and down the road. Most of the occupants are Englishmen with their ladies; but you may also see quite a number of Hindoo princes or noblemen with their ladies in oriental costumes, or Parsee merchants in black silk coats and high caps. To the right there is a veritable forest of ship’s masts extending along the beach for miles, and to the left some native soldiers are being drilled. We drive down and have a chat with the English officers and stop to see a game of polo played, the native cavalry contesting with their English officers, all displaying a wonderful skill. Every now and then a couple of young Englishmen or officers on horseback meet each other, and yonder are two half-naked Hindoos on a jog-trot carrying a load which looks like a big coffin, but which turns out to be a palanquin occupied by a passenger who, in an inclined position, smokes his cigar and takes as much comfort as he can get in that primitive mode of traveling. But see there! At a given sign hundreds of men arrange themselves in long rows with their faces turned to the west, just as the sun sinks below the horizon; they prostrate themselves with their faces turned toward Mecca, and say their evening prayers. They are Mohammedans.

Returning we stop at the gate to the Eden garden where a large number of equipages have already arrived before us, compelling us to wait for our turn to drive up and get out of the carriage. The garden is now illuminated by thousands of gas and electric lights; men, women and children walk forth and back on the soft grass plats; the military band plays well-known tunes; Chinese, Parsees, Jews, Hindoos and Arabs, in the most varied costumes, mingle with each other and with the Europeans. There are plenty of seats for such as wish to sit down and rest; but it is now time for exercise, and they walk in rows of ten or more until the band winds up its program for the evening by playing “God save the Queen.” In the midst of a general hurry and confusion we hunt up our carriage which was to stop at a certain spot, and return to the crossroad from which the roads of Maidan as well as the streets in the city may be seen glimmering in the gaslight as far as the eye can reach. When we reach home it is just time to dress for dinner, which generally begins at eight o’clock, lasting two or three hours. As to fashionable life, social pleasure, display of dress and finery, etc., Calcutta excels every other place in the world.

My exequatur not having arrived from London, I had to obtain a special recognition from the viceroy as American consul-general, after which my formal presentation took place. The Marquis of Ripon was viceroy during my stay in India. On presenting my credentials I had a lengthy conversation with him, and learned to admire him from that moment. From my memorandum book written on that day I quote the following:

Afterward I became intimately acquainted with this truly noble man, and was proud and happy to be counted by him as one of his very few friends in India who stood by him when the powerful Anglo-Indian bureaucracy turned against him on account of his humane efforts to raise the natives socially and politically. Unfortunately for India, she has not had many British rulers like Lord Ripon, but most of them, in conjunction with the office-holding class, rule India, not for the good of India, but for their own interests.

Our British friends are certainly entitled to credit for the audacious pluck which they showed when a handful of their soldiers and citizens conquered that great country with its innumerable inhabitants. The only thing, however, that made it possible to do so, and which makes it possible to hold India to-day, is the internal strifes, the jealousies and the religious intolerance among the natives themselves. If they were united they could free the country from the foreigners in a month. But why should they? The country is better governed than ever before, and it is gaining fast in progress and prosperity. Still there is a deep hidden feeling of ill-will toward the English, and the time will yet come when a terrible struggle will be fought in India. Perhaps Russia will have a hand in the fight. It will be a bloody, savage war, and will cause Great Britain serious trouble. I said that India is better ruled now than ever before; but that is not saying much, for it ought to be ruled still better and more in the interest of the natives. India has civil service with a vengeance, the office-holding class being even more arrogant, proud and independent than the titled nobility. They rule the country with an iron hand, regard it simply as a field for gathering in enormous salaries, and after twenty-five years’ service they return to England with a grand India pension. The English look down upon the lower classes with haughty contempt, chiefly because the latter try to insinuate themselves into favor with the former by means of all kinds of flattery. Nobody is of any account in India unless he is an officer, either civil or military; hence all the best talent is circumscribed within narrow office routine limits, and nothing is left for the peaceful industrial pursuits except what the government may undertake to do, and that is usually confined to railroad and canal improvements. England wants India for a market, therefore nothing is done to encourage manufactures, but rather to cripple them. With the cheapest and most skilled labor in the world, the natives of India are compelled to buy even the cotton garments they wear from England though they raise the cotton themselves, and England is very careful not to establish a protective tariff in India.