He was twenty-one years old when he became assistant editor of the “Lahore Journal.” It was a strange newspaper office, judging by accounts which he has given us of it. There were native type-setters and a queer Mohammedan foreman. In a story which he wrote, called “The Man Who Would be King,” Kipling tells how they worked in the stifling Indian heat. From time to time Kipling published verses and stories in the local paper, and when these had been gathered together and sent out into the world in the form of a book called “Plain Tales from the Hills,” the name of the young author and poet became famous. He then went to England and made his home in London. He wrote many stories and poems of the old life in India, one of the best collections of which is the “Barrack-Room Ballads.” In London he met Walcott Balestier, of Brattleboro, Vt., and they wrote stories together until Balestier’s death. Not long after, Kipling married Caroline Balestier. They came to this country and lived for a time in Vermont, where the poet surrounded himself with everything that would remind him of the life in India. Among other works of Kipling are “Soldiers Three,” “The Phantom ‘Rickshaw, and Other Stories,” the two Jungle Books, and “The Day’s Work.” At the time of Queen Victoria’s jubilee, Kipling wrote what was perhaps his greatest poem, the “Recessional,” which was published in “The London Times.” GOD of our fathers, known of old-- Lord of our far-flung battle line-- Beneath whose awful hand we hold Dominion over palm and pine-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! The tumult and the shouting dies-- The Captains and the Kings depart-- Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! Far-called our navies melt away-- On dune and headland sinks the fire-- Lo, all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! If, drunk with sight of power, we loose Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-- Such boasting as the Gentiles use, Or lesser breeds without the Law-- Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, Lest we forget--lest we forget! For heathen heart that puts her trust In reeking tube and iron shard-- All valiant dust that builds on dust, And guarding calls not Thee to guard. For frantic boast and foolish word, Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! Amen. WILLIAM HICKLING PRESCOTT.