The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1915-03-28
ABAF lHE FUNNEL e by Rudyard KlpGng
EIGHTH OF A SERIES OF IT'LL KNOWN STORIES
BY THE FAMOUS AUTHO APPEARING I'M "THE.

talk they must think thai way, I sup
pose. It's compensation for playing
with little things. And that reminds
me. Do you know the university
smile? You don't by that name, but
sometimes young civilians wear it for
n very short time when they first
come out. Something's wonder If
It's our brutal Chaff, or a billiard
cue, or which?-takes 1t out of their
faces. and when they next differ with
you they do so without smiling. But
that smile fiourishes in London. I've
met 1t again and again. 1t expresses
tempered grief, sorrow at our COM
plete inability to march with the
march of progress at the universities
and a chastened contempt. There is
one man who wears it as a armcn..
He Is frivolously young-not more
than 35 or 40-and all these years no
n has removed that smile. lie
knows everything about everything
on this earth. and above all he knows
all about men under any and every
condition of life. lie knows all about
the aggressive militarism of you and
your friends; he isn't quite sure
of the necessity OF an army: he
is certain that colonial expans 'on Is
nonsense. and he is more thar cor
tain that the whole step of all our
empire must be regulated by the
knowledge and foresight of the work.
:ngman. Then he smiles-smiles like
Il seraph with an NJ. 4. degree. What
can you do with a man like that?
lie has never seen an unmade roal
Ia his life. | think he believes that
wheat grows on a tree and that beef
Is dug from a mine. He has never
len forty miles from a railway. and
lie has never been called upoi to
Issue an order to anybody except his
well fed servants. Isn't 1t w~onjrous?
And there are battalions and brigades
of these men in town removed from
the fear of want. living until they ar
20 or so. sheltered, fed, drained and
administered. %eXpending their vast
leisure in talking and writing.
But the real fun begins much lower
down the line. I've been associating
generally and very particularly with
the men who say that they are the
only men in the world who work
and they call themselves the working
man. Now the workingman in
America is a nice person. He says
he is a man and behaves accordingly.
That Is to say, he has some notion that
he is part and parcel of a great coun-
try. AT least. he talks that way.
But in this town YOU can see thou
sands of men meeting publicly on
Sundays to cry aloud that everybody
may hear that they are poor, down.
trodden he.ots-in fact. the pore
workin'man." At their clubs and pubs
the talk Is the same. It's the utter
want Of self-respect that revolts. My
r.- 49, -A,.a,,
who is. apparently. sound in mind and
limb, aged %, clear eyed n u%pstand-
ing. He is a "sklbbo" by trade-a
painter of sorts. He married at 20
and he has two children. He can
spend three-quarters of an hour talk
ing about his downtrodden condition.
He works under another Raj-mistri.
who has saved money n started a
little shop of his own. He hates that
Raj-mistri; he loathcs the police: and
his views on the lives and customs of
the aristocracy are strange He APP
proves of very form of lawlessness,
and he knows hat everybody who
holds authority is sure to be making
a good thing out of il. of himself
as a citizen he never thinks. OF him.
self as an Ishmael he thinks a good
deal. lie is emitted to eight hours
work a day and some time off-said
time TO be paid for: he is entitled to
free education for his children-and
he doesn't want no bloomin' clergy
man to teach EN-; he is entitled to
houses especially built for himself be-
cause he pays the bulk of the taxes
of the country. He is not going to emf
crate. not he: he reserves to himself
TIE right of multiplying as much as
he pleases: the streets must be pol!ccd
for him while he demonstrates, i'm
mediately under my window, by the
way, for ten consecutive hours, and /
am probably a thief because my
clothes are better than his. The
proposition is a very simple one. He
has no duties to the