THE FIRST GLIMPSE OF DAVIS
BY CHARLES DANA GIBSON


Dick was twenty-four years old when he came into the smoking-
room of the Victoria Hotel, in London, after midnight one July
night--he was dressed as a Thames boatman.

He had been rowing up and down the river since sundown,
looking for color. He had evidently peopled every dark corner
with a pirate, and every floating object had meant something
to him. He had adventure written all over him. It was the
first time I had ever seen him, and I had never heard of him.
I can't now recall another figure in that smoke-filled room.
I don't remember who introduced us--over twenty-seven years
have passed since that night. But I can see Dick now dressed
in a rough brown suit, a soft hat, with a handkerchief about
his neck, a splendid, healthy, clean-minded, gifted boy at
play. And so he always remained.

His going out of this world seemed like a boy interrupted in a
game he loved. And how well and fairly he played it! Surely
no one deserved success more than Dick. And it is a
consolation to know he had more than fifty years of just what
he wanted. He had health, a great talent, and personal charm.
There never was a more loyal or unselfish friend. There
wasn't an atom of envy in him. He had unbounded mental and
physical courage, and with it all he was sensitive and