Whatever happens, we have got The Maxim gun and they have not. Hilaire Belloc. Rudyard Kipling, shaggy-browed poet of British imperialism, who would never have written such a cynical (and honest) observation as Poet Belloc's, was 66 last fortnight. The Kipling Society had a banquet in London presided over by grey-haired Major General Lionel Charles Dunsterville, better known as the original Stalky. Poet Kipling did not attend. He stayed with his big, quiet, little-known wife, thinking. Days like the days of his youth seemed at hand. Last week a detachment...
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