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Updated: May 16, 2025
"Bok learned the game of poker," Kipling says; "had the deck stacked on him, and on hearing that there was a woman aboard who read The Ladies' Home Journal insisted on playing after that with the cabin-door carefully shut." But Kipling's art as a reporter for The Tonic was not as reliable as the art of his more careful book work.
Tyke me back to Blighty, That's the plyce for me. It doesn't look like much and I'm afraid my rendition of cockney dialect into print isn't quite up to Kipling's. But the song had a pretty little lilting melody, and it went big. They made me sing it about a dozen times and were all joining in at the end. Then they got sentimental and gloomy.
Let me now to prose. Like my baronial Chief, I say, "Bring me my boots!" and let them be thick, so that I may trudge safely through Mr. This is described as Mr. KIPLING's first long story. His publishers, moreover, are good enough to take all the trouble of criticism upon their own shoulders. They declare that "there is more stern strength in this novel than in anything which Mr.
Of this story I have spoken elsewhere in this volume, I shall only add here that it is one of the most significant spiritual studies in fiction that the war has produced, and that it is directly told in a style of sensitive beauty. Kipling's short stories published in several years.
The latest response to Bernhardi's book, "England the Vassal of Germany," is Kipling's poem in the King Albert book issued December 16 to augment the Belgian Relief Fund. I clip two verses: They traded with the careless earth, And good return it gave; They plotted by their neighbor's hearth The means to make him slave.
The association was obvious: how the price of lead would go up if England brought home all her dead "heroes" in hermetically-sealed caskets! But why should Mr. Kipling's rugged lines have cropped up in my memory rather than the smoother verses of other poets, equally familiar to me, and equally well fitted to point the contrast? for instance, Mr. Housman's:
It set me worrying of nights. It put all my projects for social and political reconstruction upon a new uncomfortable footing. It made them no longer merely desirable but urgent. Instead of pride and the love of making one might own to a baser motive. Under Kipling's sway I had a little forgotten the continent of Europe, treated it as a mere envious echo to our own world-wide display.
He could say, with Kipling's Tramp Royal: "It's like a book, I think, this bloomin' world, Which you can read and care for just so long, But presently you feel that you will die Unless you get the page you're reading done, An' turn another likely not so good; But what you're after is to turn them all."
One should spend a month in the museum, an enchanted palace of Indian antiquities. Indeed, a person might spend half a year among the beautiful and wonderful things without exhausting their interest. It was winter. We were of Kipling's "hosts of tourists who travel up and down India in the cold weather showing how things ought to be managed."
The modern army is not a miracle of courage; it has not enough opportunities, owing to the cowardice of everybody else. But it is really a miracle of organization, and that is the truly Kiplingite ideal. Kipling's subject is not that valour which properly belongs to war, but that interdependence and efficiency which belongs quite as much to engineers, or sailors, or mules, or railway engines.
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