The Cathedral is an imposing pile.  Its architecture is Gothic, and the interior produces a very fine effect by the harmony of its proportions and the richness of its details.  The ill-famed “Black Hole,” in which the Rajah Surajah Dowlah confined one hundred and fifty English men and women, when he obtained possession of Calcutta in 1756—­confining them in a narrow and noisome cell, which poisoned them with its malarious atmosphere, so that by morning only a few remained alive—­is now part of a warehouse.  But an obelisk stands at the entrance, inscribed with the names of the victims.

The fashionable promenade at Calcutta is the Maidan.  It runs along the bank of the Hooghly, and is bounded on the other side by rows of palatial mansions.  It commands a good view of the Viceroy’s Palace, the Cathedral, the Ochterlony Column, the strong defensive works of Fort William; and is altogether a very interesting and attractive spot.

Every evening, before sunset, thither wends the fashionable world of Calcutta.  The impassive European, with all the proud consciousness of a conquering race; the half-Europeanized baboo; the deposed rajah,—­all may be seen driving to and fro in splendid equipages, drawn by handsome steeds, and followed by servants in gay Oriental attire.  The rajahs and “nabobs” are usually dressed in gold-embroidered robes of silk, over which are thrown the costliest Indian shawls.  Ladies and gentlemen, on English horses of the best blood, canter along the road, or its turfen borders; while crowds of dusky natives gather in all directions, or leisurely move homewards after their day’s work.  A bright feature of the scene is the animated appearance of the Hooghly:  first-class East Indiamen are lying at anchor, ships are arriving or preparing for departure, the native craft incessantly ply to and fro, and a Babel of voices of different nationalities rises on the air.

Here is a picture of the Maidan, drawn by another lady-traveller, Mrs. Murray Mitchell:—­

[The Maidan, Calcutta:  page95.jpg]

It is, she says, a noble expanse, which, about a hundred years ago, was a wild swampy jungle, famous only for snipe-shooting.  Strange to say, it is not, like most Indian plains, burned up and brown, but, from its vicinity to the river, and the frequent showers that visit it, as fresh and green as an English park.  It has a few fine tanks, and is sprinkled with some leafy trees; these, however, not so numerous as they were before the cyclones of 1864 and 1867, which swept away its chief natural beauties.  Several broad well-kept drives intersect it, and it is ornamented by some graceful gardens and a few handsome columns and statues.  Indeed, the Maidan is the centre of all that is grand and imposing; the shabby and the unsightly is kept behind, out of view.  Facing it, along its eastern marge, stand the noble pillared palaces of Chowringhee.  At one end stands the handsome new Court House; also the Town Hall, and