MR KIPLING AND THE AMERICAN REPORTER.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 11401, 19 April 1899, Page 6

MR KIPLING AND THE AMERICAN REPORTER.

AN.;AM!USING STORY.

The AVashington Star publishes an amusing account of an interview which a Chicago, reporter says he had with Mr Rudyardi Kipling some time since.

"I hear that.Rudyard Kipling's manners have improved a. good deal since he firstcan)e to this country, nearly 10 years ago, and that he has cut out • that ' short, sharp, and decisive' pose'that he then ching to so tenaciously," said' the before-mentioned correspondent ot" a .Chicago' paper, who used to bo reporter in. the town. "I was sent down to Kipling's hotel to pick a bit of talk out of him when he first struck Chicago, on his way from San Francisco to New York."- He Wasn't quite such a big ■gun-then as •he is now, but- he was big enough.. All the way from the coast to Chicago the reporters he had-met had been hammering him as, a-' case of a remarkably bright young man afflicted with elephantiasis of the skull.. I concluded that all of this, anvil chorus music made by the reporters Kipling had met ivas unjust.' I had such an opinion of my own interviewing skill that I would have been willing to lay better than even money that I'd succeed in getting a! corking red-hot talk out of the young East Indian. He got into Chicago at 4. o'clock in the afternoon, too | lato lor the diotel' reporters for the afternoon .papers!.to get, in a talk with him. Kipling put' up at the Richelieu, and I sent my card up to him, about 1 o'clock in the evening. . After about five minutes a young I'riiaii,' wearing a very baggy suit of clothes 'and the' bummest' black Derby hat I ever' saw, got. off the elevator and shambled into the hotel lobby. I. knew the young man- was Kipling. He looked about the same then as* he does now —.iame bulldog, ilock-of-Gibraltar . jaw, stubby moustache, searching eyes, and general look of slouchi--1 ness. . Ho had. my. card in his hand as he j entered the hotel lobby. ! "i don't know tou."

. "'Mr Kipling?.' I said. He turned upon me sharply. He looked me in the eyes. Then he lowered his eyes to my feet, and began a slow study of me from my shoes up. ' When . his -eyes finally reached the point of my chin, he looked at my twisted card in his hand, and said in a sharp, choppy voice, .'Urn —what if I am? I don't, know you. •' Did. you send me this card?' I admitted the'soft impeachment. Tm just .after, being hurtled down here by my city editor to find out what you think "about the world, the flesh, and the devil,' I said.' 'Go ahead. Let's have it. Cough up. -Any old thing you say will do.' ' Kipling's' rugged countenance was lriomqhtnrily * crossed' by a very boyish, fetching grin. 'You're a pretty cheeky sort, aren't you?' he inquired, not. quite so choppily as he had spoken before. 'AVhat does your blasted city editor or anybody -lse suppose that I know about tho devil, the flesh, or the world? I'm only six-and-twenty—.a kid; a kid in England, at any rate, where precocity, instead of being at a premium, as it seems to bo, over .here, is a social vice. "The world, the flesh, and the devil?" Haven't you got any hoary patriarchs here to whom you can piit that question?' " you'll rnoBAjiLY no some very decent IVOIIK LATER ON." '"Slews of 'em,' I replied; 'but they haven't written books about the doings of Alulvo.ney, Ortheris, and Learoyd. That stuff of yours is pretty good—that is, it isn't half bad. You're of the improving sort, I think, and you'll probably do somo very decent work later on, when you get. noxt to yourself.' Kipling took off his spectacles', wiped tlitem with his pockethandkerchief, readjusted them, and looked me through for fully a minute before he spoke. ' I say,' ■he said then, ' you're a confounded impertinent sort of a cove, aren't you? 'What the deuce do you mean? It's solacing to run across a man who's devised of pure gall—it's novel, I mean. AVhat do you want me to say?'" ■ "i LIKE IT IN SPOTS." . ,

. " ' How do you like what you've seen in this country, anyhow?' I asked him, to make a switch in the line of talk. 'I like it in spots,' he replied. ' AVhat difference does it make whether I like it or not?' 'Lots.' I said. 'We w-ant to.be approved. AYe strive to please. We desire, to be patted on the back. Go on and pat us on the back some more. I'll take it down in shorthand.' ' I wish you'd get away and let

me alone,' said Kipling. 'If I was work-|;! 7: ing for a salary, instead of writing on' t 7 apace, I'd oblige you, for this isn't any j;!:'-.-.; fun for me,' said I. 'Tell me some things 177 about American soldiers, what, you've seen V 7 of them.' 'They're a blooming fine lot,!.; your soldiers are,' said Kipling, looking in- | 7,7 .crested. 'They are crack men —way-up |:7; men—the . horse outfits especially. I've 1;7 visited about a dozen posts, and I'd like to |;..', spend a month at each of 'em! ■ I imagine v/f----it must be fine work soldiering down there j; /■ in Arizona.' 'Nice work,' said I. 'I often |:!'! long to be back at old San Carlos. I put V 7 in three years as a buck private in one of j the troops down there.' " Y7'.THE ONE THING THAT INTERESTS Kll'l/ING. , 1/: "Well, that's howl got Kipling—because 17; I had soldiered ; and if there's one thing that {7 interests Kipling more than another it's sol- | 7 dieriiig. His homely phiz lit up when ] rmenlioned that soldiering incident in my 5 / tumultuous career, and for three-quarters : ot r! an hour be sat there in the window front |: of the Hotel Richelieu and talked over the | military end of it in a clever, luminous,7 j; sketchy way tli.it was full of meat. 'He told j me all about the American military posts he' f! had visited, comparing our soldiers with the [;'■ men who compose,the British outfits; and— v! well, it made over two columns of tip-top I stuff. When I arose to take my leave .of .Kip- t; ling, I said, ' Now, don't forget—when ever you write something that you think is really good, just send mo along a batch of advance proofs, and .I'll give you a stick or 1 two of a notice in my paper if I approve! of '!■ the stuff and consider it up to the ma,rk.' | Kipling simply glared at me amusingly out 7: of his shrewd eyes, said something that sounded like 'Impudent whelp!' and'l wen). iaway to write my interview." L;