The levee for men, which is held a day or two before or after the drawing-room, is a much less interesting, but more fatiguing business. Every man in Calcutta, European or Native, who can get the necessary vouchers for his admission, seems to make it his duty and his pleasure to attend. If he attends the levee, there is the chance that he may receive an invitation to dinner at Government House, or, more probably, to one of the great balls or “at homes” which are annually given by the Viceroy. Therefore, every European assistant and every clerk in the merchants’ offices, and banks, or in Government employment, strives for admission to the levee. Every native gentleman, who can obtain letters commendatory, is anxious to make his obeisance before the Viceroy. The great people, such as the members of Council, the judges of the High Court, the members of the Board of Revenue, and the secretaries of the Government, with the several military chiefs and heads of departments, who have the private _entrée_ to Government House, are first presented to the Viceroy, and pay the penalty for their precedence by having to stand during the whole levee on either side of the Viceregal throne. A distant noise like the roaring of the sea is next heard, and there presently appears a heated and excited party of the representatives of the outside public, who have been successful in struggling to the front places and in being admitted first through the series of barriers by which the impatient crowd, numbering about twelve hundred, has to be restrained. The struggle to get to the front is something fearful until the protection of the first barrier is reached. Coat-tails are torn off, swords in their scabbards broken, hats treated as foot-balls, as the body of eager aspirants crushes forward. It is almost a comfort to find a soft place on this occasion between two fat and portly native gentlemen, who suffer grievously, but still gladly, for the honour and glory which they presently hope to attain. Several of the early barriers which have been already mentioned are kept against the crowd by non-commissioned officers, but as the candidates approach the throne, they come under the manipulation of the A.D.C.s and other officers on the staff, whose brilliant appearance sometimes seems almost to fascinate the mind of the uninitiated. At last the foremost comer is bidden by the A.D.C. to advance, card in hand, to meet his Viceregal master. He steps forward and hands his card to the Military Secretary, who announces his name in a loud voice, and the next two paces bring him in front of the Viceroy. Some men make a proper obeisance and pass on. Some give a little sort of a nod to the Viceroy, and, looking bewildered, try to retire by the way they had advanced, when an A.D.C. promptly interferes. A difficult case sometimes arises, when the Viceroy, on recognising someone to whom he desires to be gracious, puts forth his hand to be shaken. This proceeding being observed by the man