Halloo, there! what’s this? A race—clear the way! There they come, hired for the evening, “two blind uns and a bolter;” heads down, ears viciously inclined. “Go it, my middies!” Look at the reefer in advance—all aback, toes in his horse’s nose, head on the crupper, tugging for bare life to make his craft steer or wear. I thought so—snap go the tiller-ropes—a man overboard—the blue-jacket rolls in the dust: he’s up again, hat rammed over his eyes—but the bolter’s off—catch him who can! There goes, at a gee-up hobble, a shandry-dan, with two Armenians in it—highly respectable men, with queer velvet caps, and very episcopal-looking aprons—strange mixture of European and Asiatic, neither flesh nor fowl—Topee Wala or Puckree Bund.[7] They nod to two gentlemen passing in a gig, of the gimcrack order—gentlemen in white jackets and ditto hats; highly _polished_ men, _i.e._ in the face, which seems, indeed, to have had the benefit of a bottle of Day and Martin’s real japan blacking—who are they? Valiant Lusitanians, illustrious descendants of Albuquerque and Vasco de Gama—Messrs. Joachim de Reberero and Gomez de Souza, writers in the office of the salt and opium department. Who is this in cords, top boots, and white jacket—a dapper, well-fed little man, on a tall English horse, to which he bears about the same relative proportions that Falstaffs bread did to his sherris sack?—Ay, who? Come, tell it, and burn ye— He is—can he help it?—a special attorney— an _attaché_ of the Supreme Court. Such, then, is the Course of Calcutta; and such a little melodramatic sketch may give some idea of the varied objects which there meet the eye. We drove up and down several times, and recognized not a few of our ship companions; amongst others, the little colonel, in a barouche with some ladies, whom he was evidently entertaining with a “yarn.” Darkness now came on apace. The mussalchees, or link boys, with their flaring mussauls, met their masters at turns of the roads, to light them to their several homes, and we thought it time to depart. Marpeet drove to his quarters, where he invited me to pass the evening, to which I assented. Sitting over our wine, Marpeet discussed the Course, and gave me a few bits of scandal, touching sundry ladies and gentlemen we had seen, over which I yawned, for I have ever abominated what are called private histories.