When the change of Rulers took place at Calcutta there was plenty of space and room for the crowd of dignitaries, British and native, presenting an impressive show as they lined the stately portico and ample stairway. The numerous uniforms, picturesque dresses of the native chiefs and notables, together with the scarlet uniforms and tall lances of the bodyguard combined to make the scene gay, and even splendid. Not so at Simla, where on this occasion the whole officialdom from the Commander-in-Chief and members of Council downwards, were packed into a big shamiana (tent with a flat roof) somewhere about twenty feet square. Most noticeable amongst the assembly were the two Sikh Chiefs, of Jhind and Nabha, their states not being far from Simla; both were elderly men, tall, handsome and strikingly alike, though I believe no relation. With their snowy garments, jewelled necklaces, aigrettes and gold-hilted swords, they looked what they were, warrior princes of the best Oriental type. There was nothing remarkable about the rest of the crowd. Everybody of course had to be in uniform, and as no one was allowed to remain outside the shamiana it was soon packed and most uncomfortably hot. One side of the tent was open, and a strip of red cloth led from it to the porch of Peterhoff. Everybody was awaiting the arrival of the new Viceroy, Lord Ripon, who had slept the night before at the foot of the hills at Kalka, and was expected every moment to arrive with his personal staff in a train of tongas. Sir Robert Egerton, the Lieut.-Governor of the Punjab, had gone to meet Lord Ripon at the first rest-house, some six or eight miles down the road, where the new Viceroy was to refresh his inner man and change his travelling garments. Everybody in the tent was very hot and wishing the show over, but they had some time still to wait. The appointed hour had come and gone, but still no Viceroy. Lord Lytton walked up and down between the house and the shamiana smoking a cigar, while everybody else held their breath waiting anxiously for release before being quite stifled. At last the signal was given, the great man was approaching, there was a general buzz and hum as in a hive of bees when the queen thinks of moving. Lord Lytton hurried out of the house: three or four aides-de-camp, Lord William being one, endeavoured with difficulty to clear a space in the shamiana, which feat presented somewhat of a conundrum, the area being about the size of an ordinary healthy hearthrug.