There are several sets and castes in the social life—­the official set, the military set, the professional people, the mercantile set, and so on—­and it is not often that the lines that divide them are broken.  During the winter season social life is very gay.  The city is filled with visitors from all parts of India, and they spend their money freely, having a good time.  Official cares rest lightly upon the members of the government, with a few exceptions, including Lord Curzon, who is always at work and never takes a holiday.  Dinners, balls, garden parties, races, polo games, teas, picnics and excursions follow one another so rapidly that those who indulge in social pleasures have only time enough to keep a record of their engagements and to dress.  The presence of a large military force is a great advantage, particularly as many of the officers are bachelors, and it is whispered that some of the lovely girls who come out from England to spend a winter in India hope to go home to arrange for a wedding.  Occasionally matrimonial affairs are conducted with dispatch.  A young woman who came out on the steamer with us, heart whole and fancy free, with the expectation of spending the entire winter in India, started back to London with a big engagement ring upon her finger within four weeks after she landed, and several other young women were quite as fortunate during the same winter, although not so sudden.  India is regarded as the most favorable marriage market in the world.

Calcutta has frequently been called “the city of statues.”  I think Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, the poet-viceroy, gave it that title, and it was well applied.  Whichever way you look on the Maidan, bronze figures of former viceroys, statesmen and soldiers appear.  Queen Victoria sits in the center, a perfect reproduction in bronze, and around her, with their faces turned toward the government house, are several of her ablest and most eminent servants.  In the center of the Maidan rises a lofty column that looks like a lighthouse.  Its awkwardness is in striking contrast to the graceful shafts which Hindu architects have erected in various parts of the empire.  It is dedicated to David Ochterlony, a former citizen of Calcutta and for fifty years a soldier, and is a token of appreciation from the people of the empire.  The latest monument is a bronze statue of Lord Roberts.

Facing the Maidan for a couple of miles is the Chowringhee, one of the famous streets of the world, once a row of palatial residences, but now given up almost entirely to hotels, clubs and shops.  Upon this street lived Warren Hastings in a stone palace, and a little further along, in what is now the Bengal Club, was the home of Thomas Babbington Macaulay during his long residence in India.