scarlet-coated satellites. He may loiter about his garden, or he may look on at a lawn-tennis party, or he may go so far as to have a party for lawn-tennis at his own house. But even at Simla the Member of Council is not much given to hospitality. It was said of a certain legislative member, who shall be nameless (and it is now an old tale), that the smoke was never seen to come out of his kitchen-chimney after his own frugal mid-day meal had been prepared. There is, perhaps, something to be said on behalf of the Legislative Member, as he is usually an elderly barrister of great but previously unappreciated ability, who is sent out to India by some political friend to make what money and reputation he can in the five years for which his appointment lasts. There have been brilliant exceptions to this rule within the last half-century, but we need not dwell upon these details. We regret to have to come to the conclusion, speaking broadly, that the Member of Council, whether it be at Simla or Calcutta, is too frequently a social failure, and, as has been already imperfectly suggested, sometimes almost an official nonentity, or at the best a sort of political paradox. It might perhaps have been more correct, according to the official table of precedence, to have given priority of mention to the Governors and Lieutenant-Governors of Provinces. But for the present we will consider that the Governors of Madras and Bombay are, after their kind, though less in degree, analogous in their own kingdoms to the Viceroy. The Lieutenant-Governors of provinces, on the other hand, stand out with a stronger sense of personality, and in the case of the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal the position becomes more accentuated, partly from the vast importance of the charge, and partly from the more immediate contact in which the Lieutenant-Governor is placed as regards the Viceroy when the latter is in residence in Calcutta. It may be new to some people to be told that in Calcutta there are at times no less than five “Lord Sahebs,” as the natives call them. There is the great Lord Saheb, _i.e._ H.E. the Viceroy. There is the little Lord Saheb, _i.e._ the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal. There is the Lord Saheb of Calcutta—at least, that was the title in use when Sir Stuart Hogg was Lord Mayor of Calcutta. There are also the Military Lord Saheb or Commander-in-Chief, and the Lord Padre Saheb, _i.e._ the Bishop. But of all these several lords it turns out that the little lord, _i.e._ the Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, is of most importance, at least for social purposes, in the eyes of the Calcutta community. The Lieutenant-Governor of Bengal, since the creation of the appointment in 1853–54, has always been a distinguished member of the local Civil Service, with two notable exceptions—when the political and personal connections of Sir George Campbell and Sir Richard Temple caused them to be foisted on a province with which they had little or no previous official connection.