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Updated: June 6, 2025
The other day, as I was strolling down the Mall, whistling Beethoven's 9th Symphony, I met the Bengali Baboo. It was returning from office. I asked it if it had a soul. It replied that it had not, but some day it hoped to pass the matriculation examination of the Calcutta University. I whistled the opening bars of one of Cherubini's Requiems, but I saw no resurrection in its eye, so I passed on.
Hardly; for the Baboo piously raises his joined hands high above his head, and, louting lower than before, murmurs the Orthodox salutation, Namaskarum!
Hastings found it proper to keep his accounts and to transact his business. The persons carrying on the accounts are Mr. Larkins, an Englishman, Cantoo Baboo, a Gentoo, and a Persian moonshee, probably a Mahometan. So all languages, all religions, all descriptions of men are to keep the account of these bribes, and to make out this valuable account which Mr. Larkins gave you!
There is a great noise; every one is talking and laughing; and the talking is loud, for it has to overcome the sounds made by sundry musicians seated at the other end of the room, who are striking their tomtoms and singing a most doleful chant. The baboo bustles about, and makes vacant for us two sofas, the places of honor.
The loyalty of Ramee Durwan is threefold, in this order: first, to his caste, next, to his beard, and then to his post; only for the two first would he abandon the last; his life he holds of less account than either. As the Baboo passes, Ramee Durwan, you think, will be ready with profound and obsequious salaam.
No ordinary or extraordinary account is given of it. Well, what is to be done in such circumstances? He sends for a person whose name you have heard and will often hear of, the faithful Cantoo Baboo. This man comes to Mr.
This is the first discovery that appears of Mrs. Hastings having been concerned in receiving presents for the Governor-General and others, in addition to Gunga Govind Sing, Cantoo Baboo, and Mr. Croftes. Now, if this money was not received for the Company, is it proper and right to take it from Mrs. Hastings? Is there honor and justice in taking from a lady a gratuitous present made to her?
I had vowed again and again that Baboo should stay lost the next time he indulged in his periodical vanishing act, but each time when night came and Aboo Din, the syce, and Fatima, the mother, crept pathetically along the veranda to where I was smoking and steeling my heart against the little rascal, I would snatch up my cork helmet and spring into my cart, which Aboo Din had kept waiting inside the stables for the moment when I should relent.
You know, dear Vanity, I whispered to you before that the poor Baboo often suffers from a slight aberration of speech which prevents his articulating the truth a kind of moral lisp.
"What is it, Aboo Din?" the mistress would inquire, as visions of Baboo drowned in the great Shanghai jar, or of Baboo lying crushed by a boa among the yellow bamboos beyond the hedge, passed swiftly through her mind. "Mem see Baboo?" came the inevitable question. It was unnecessary to say more.
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