George and I came down to Calcutta very late, leaving the rest of the party to come down by water in the morning. Our only incident was passing Wright and Giles, expostulating in English with a kicking Indian horse, who was trying, with every prospect of success, to overturn Wright’s carriage.
My days are very quiet and uninterrupted. From nine in the morning till airing time I see nobody except at luncheon, which does not last long. Yesterday we dined early to go to a benefit of a tiresome Madame , who has actually persuaded us into going, by letters and petitions, &c. It was a sort of concert—songs out of various operas, remarkably ill sung by people dressed in character. Madame is an exaggeration of the Duchesse de Caniggaro, only fatter, and she was dressed as Tancredi; it almost made the concert amusing. Luckily it was all over by ten. We have got two more benefits to do, and then I think all furthe theatricals may be avoided for the hot season. George at first did not mean to do , as I handsomely offered to do it alone; and, to fill the
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