with its black marble floor, its rose-coloured silk walls where great silver sconces alternated with full-length portraits of British sovereigns, its white “chunam” columns and its gilt Italian furniture.  “Chunam” has been used in India from time immemorial for decorative purposes.  It is as white as snow and harder than any stone, and is, I believe, made from calcined shells.  Let us suppose a Durbar held in this renovated throne-room for the official reception of a native Indian Prince.  The particular occasion I have in mind was long after Lord Lansdowne’s time, when a certain Rajah, notoriously ill-disposed towards the British Raj, had been given the strongest of hints that unless he mended his ways, he might find another ruler placed on the throne of his State.  He was also recommended to come to Calcutta and to pay his respects to the Viceroy there, when, of course, he would be received with the number of guns to which he was entitled.  The Indian Princes attach the utmost importance to the number of guns they are given as a salute, a number which varies from twenty-one in the case of the Nizam of Hyderabad, who alone ranks as a Sovereign, to nine for the smaller princes.  Should the British Government wish to mark its strong displeasure with any native ruler, it sometimes does so by reducing the number of guns of his salute, and correspondingly, to have the number increased is a high honour.  Sulkily and unwillingly the Rajah of whom I am thinking journeyed to Calcutta, and sulkily and unwillingly did he attend the Durbar.  On occasions such as these, visiting native Princes are the guests of the Government of India at Hastings House (Warren Hastings’ old country house in the suburbs of Calcutta, specially renovated and fitted up for the purpose), and the Viceroy’s state carriages are sent to convey them to Government House.  Everything in the way of ceremonial in India is done strictly by rule.  The precise number of steps the Viceroy will advance to greet visiting Rajahs is all laid down in a little book.  The Nizam of Hyderabad is met by the Viceroy with all his staff at the state entrance of Government House, and he is accompanied through all the rooms, both on his arrival and on his departure; but, as I said before, the Nizam ranks as a Sovereign.  In the case of lesser lights the Viceroy advances anything from three to twenty steps.  These points may appear very trivial to Europeans, but to Orientals they assume great importance, and, after all, India is a part of Asia.  At right angles to the Calcutta throne-room is the fine Marble Hall, with marble floor and columns and an entirely gilt ceiling; empty except for six colossal busts of Roman Emperors, which, together with a number of splendid cut-glass chandeliers of the best French Louis XV. period, and a full-length portrait of Louis XV. himself, fell into our hands through the fortunes of war at a time when our relations with our present film ally, France, were possibly less cordial than at present.  For a Durbar a long