Long before the Course begins to thin it is almost dark, and then, if the poor lounger is “unattached,” and is sharing his buggy with a friend as unfortunate as himself, the general effect of the scene before him is the most interesting object for his gaze.  The carriages continue to whirl past, but one sees hardly more of them than their lamps.  The river glides, cold and shining, a long silvery light under the opposite bank, while trees and masts and rigging relieve themselves against the golden bars of the distant sky.  But the band ceases to play, and every one goes home to dress.

If the traveler chooses, he may find many an amusing drive in the native parts of the town.  Tall Sikhs, whose hair and beards have never known scissors or razor, and who stride along with a swagger and high-caste dignity; effeminate Cingalese; Hindoo clerks, smirking, conceited and dandified too, according to their own notions; almost naked palkee-bearers, who nevertheless, if there is the slightest shower, put up an umbrella to protect their shaven crowns; up-country girls with rings in their noses and rings on their toes; little Bengalee beauties; Parsees, Chinese, Greeks, Jews and Armenians, in every variety of costume, are to be seen bargaining on the quays, chaffering in the bazaars, loading and unloading the ships, trotting along under their water-skins, driving their bullock-carts, smoking their hookahs or squatting in the shade.

We have had the good fortune, thanks to our interest in native manners and customs, to make the acquaintance of a Hindoo merchant, a millionaire and a bon vivant, on whom his religion sits somewhat lightly.  We might, if we had not been otherwise engaged, have dined with him this evening.  He would have been delighted to receive us, and would have treated us with abundant hospitality and kindness.  The dinner would have been of a composite character, partly European, partly native.  A sort of rissole of chicken would certainly have been one of the dishes, and with equal certainty would have met with your approval:  the curry, too, would have satisfied you, even if you had just come from Madras or Singapore.  There would have been knives and forks for us:  our convives would not have made much use of the latter, and some of the dishes on which they would have exercised their fingers would hardly have tempted us.  The champagne and claret are excellent, and our host, Hindoo as he is, is not sparing in his libations; and at the same time he and his countrymen would have been vociferous in pressing us to eat and drink, filling our glasses the moment they were empty, and heaping our plates with the choicest morsels.  After all, however, perhaps we have had no great loss in missing the dinner.  We shall enjoy the pleasant drive, and by being a little late shall escape the not very delightful sound of various stringed instruments being tuned.  Arrived, we leave our horse and buggy to the care of some most cutthroat-looking individuals, who crowd