Letter from Rudyard Kipling, Brattleboro, to W. E. Henley, 1892 October 26 : autograph manuscript signed.

Concerning who might succeed Tennyson as poet laureate; saying "Of course if I'd had anything about Tennyson you would have had it by this time but I hadn't. I didn't even for a minute try for the reason that the matter was too high for me. But in regard to Sir Theodore Martin - if he is to be the Successor - the chances for larks are lovely! Take thou a big new pen and say so. It's beyond me. As a Laureate he would be priceless. Again the reflections of Arnold, Lewis Morris, Gosse and the others in their own verses after the award would be fun;" setting forth some examples of verse; saying "Again a new notion has occurred to me. The P.M.G. wants to know why they don't write plays. S'pose you set all the fellows and fellaheen from Ouida up and down to say why the other fellows don't write plays. Mrs. John Strange Winter explaining why Oscar W. don't write would be beautiful. Commend this to Whibley, who could work it up. Wind it all up with a step-dance and song;" setting forth another verse and adding "You might go on for ever with this drivel. It goes more or less to the tune of "Where did you get that hat?" I haven't thanked you yet for your long letter with the good news of your migration to London : nor for the N.O's. Maude is a good man, I think, but you are still lean as regards advt. I wish I had things for you but just now I'm busy with long work and shortlings are scarce. I'll see if there can't be something good before Christmas. Send me as it were a few ideas of what you'd like...The days go peacefully, each with its stint and the Peace of God upon each. Now and again I have to explain the shortest way back again to a wandering reporter who tells me with tears in his eyes that he is a gentleman and proceeds to prove it by trying to get the village cloth-smith I mean tailor to show him my clothes. Otherwise I am deliciously alone and am trying to master the science (I think it's a calling) of ox-driving. O Henley, papers are easier to edit than oxen, a yoke of 'em, are to drive. They drained me dry of profanity yesterday in the woods, and as I danced undignifiedly about 'em among the dead leaves, there came unbidden a vision of Andrew Lang in frock-coat and tall hat set to the same work - what tongue would he swear in? Today I have a new ox-whip and tomorrow I will try 'em again. It's glorious work for the hinder muscle, and the chest. Winter is just coming on us but each day holds lovelier than the last. Presently we shall be under two feet of snow and if there is a long silence you will know that a colt and an old sledge has been the death of me. Never you mind about my living in America. If you saw this life or ours and didn't happen to know your geography, it would be Africa, or Australia or another planet. I have what I need. Sunshine and a mind at ease, peace and my own time for my own work and the real earth within the reach of my hand, whenever I tire of messing with ink. Good stuff will come out of this in God's time which is not my time; and if nothing comes then I shall have led a sane clean life at least, and found new experiences. Half my time in town was spent in hearing and telling how work was to be done, which is extremely interesting so long as you have not much to do. The farmers here do exactly what I did but their club is the lee side of a barn door, and their Art, the how and the why of farming. Therefore are their fences gapped and therefore do mortgages come upon them, and their young stock die. There's not so very great a difference between men after all. Give my love to the boys in town and don't forget the weekly N.O."