It is with intense pleasure that we are able to
record, if not the recovery of Mr. Kipling, at any rate his passage from extreme danger to comparative security. During the greater part of the past week he has literally been at death's door, but Friday's telegrams show that the crisis is past, that the fever has abated, that the lungs are clearing, and that he is no longer delirious, but conscious of what is going on around him. No doubt there are still many days of anxiety before Mrs. Kipling, his friends, and, we may add without the slightest exaggeration, the English-speaking world, for the danger of a relapse cannot be ignored. At the same time, Mr. Kipling has youth, a fine constitution, and splendid pluck on his side. We have tried to show elsewhere why the nation has been so greatly stirred by Mr. Kipling% illness,
and will only add here that England has seen nothing like the public anxiety over a sick-bed since the Prince of Wales's illness. Every newspaper reader morning and evening has always looked first at the New York telegrams. It is clear that Mr. Kipling has been nursed and tended by his wife and by the doctors and nurses with the utmost devotion and skill.
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