a far too elaborate pretence that he can take it all
for granted as a professional combatant. Finally there is an inspired
author celebrating the world's work--an author we have agreed to put in
a higher rank than those other literary experts who have quite
unjustifiably stolen his greener laurels.

VII

THE FINER GRAIN

It has been Mr Kipling's habit all through his career to peg out
literary claims for himself as evidence of his intention later on to
work them at a profit. Thus, writing _Plain Tales from the Hills_, he
includes one or two stories, such as _The Taking of Lungtungpen_ and
_The Three Musketeers_, which clearly look forward to _Soldiers Three_
and all the later stories in that kind. Or, again, he looks forward in
_Tods' Amendment_ and _Wee Willie Winkie_ to the time when he will
write many stories, and, in a sense, whole books concerning children.
_Tods' Amendment_ promises _Baa Baa Black Sheep_, and _Just So
Stories_; it even promises _Stalky & Co._, which is simply the best
collection of boisterous boy farces ever written. Then, again, there
is _In the Rukh_, out of _Many Inventions_, which looks forward to the
_Jungle Book_. Finally, there is, in _The Day's Work_, clear evidence
of Mr Kipling's intention ultimately to abandon the hills and plains of
India and to take literary seisin of the country and chronicles of
England.

The first undoubted evidence that Mr Kipling, who started with skilful
tales of India, was bound in the end to turn homewards for a deeper
inspiration is contained in a story from _The Day's Work_. _My Sunday
at Home_ is ostensibly broad farce, of the _Brugglesmith_
variety--farce which might well call for a chapter to itself were it
not that broad farce is much the same whoever the writer may be. But
_My Sunday at Home_ is really less important as farce than as evidence
of Mr Kipling's enthusiasm for the stillness and ancientry of the
English wayside. The pages of this story distil and drip with peace.
Moreover, the story is neighboured with two others, all beckoning Mr
Kipling home to Burwash in Sussex. There is the Brushwood Boy, who
after work comes home and finds it good--good after his work is done.
There is also _An Error in the Fourth Dimension_ wherein Mr Kipling is
found playing affectionately with the idea that England is quite unlike
any other country. There is in England a fourth dimension which is
beyond the perception, say, of an American railwa