"In truth," said Bhima Gandharva to me one day as were taking our
customary stroll along the Esplanade, "you have now been from the west
of this country to the east of it. You have seen the Past of India: I
wish that you may have at least a glimpse of its Future. Here comes a
young babou of my acquaintance, to whom I will make you known. He is
an enthusiastic member of 'Young India:' he has received a liberal
education at one of the numerous schools which his order has so
liberally founded in modern years, and you will, I am convinced, be
pleased with the wisdom and moderation of his sentiments."

Just as I was reaching out my hand to take that of the babou, in
compliance with Bhima's introduction, an enormous adjutant--one of
the great pouched cranes (_arghilahs_) that stalk about Calcutta
under protection of the law, and do much of the scavenger-work of the
city--walked directly between us, eyeing each of us with his red round
eyes in a manner so ludicrous that we all broke forth in a fit of
laughter that lasted for several minutes, while the ungainly bird
stalked away with much the stolid air of one who has seen something
whereof he thinks but little.

The babou addressed me in excellent English, and after some
preliminary inquiries as to my stay in Calcutta, accompanied by
hospitable invitations, he gradually began, in response to my evident
desire, to talk of the hopes and fears of the new party.

"It is our great misfortune," said he, "that we have here to do with
that portion of my countrymen which is perhaps most deeply sunk in the
mire of ancient custom. We have begun by unhesitatingly leading in the
front ourselves whenever any disagreeable consequences are to be borne
by reason of our infringement of the old customs. Take, for example,