this respect, whatever little mannerisms or points of pride he
may have had in others--fewer than most men of his success and
fastidiousness--he went ahead and did accordingly, untormented
by any alternatives or casuistries, which for him did not seem
to exist. He was so genuinely straightforward that he could
not sophisticate even himself, as almost every man occasionally
does under temptation. He, at least, never needed to be told

"Go put your creed into your deed
Nor speak with double tongue."


It is so impossible not to think first of the man, as the
testimony of every one who knew him shows, that those who have
long had occasion to watch and follow his work, not merely
with enjoyment but somewhat critically, may well look upon any
detailed discussion of it as something to be kept till later.
But there is more to be said than to recall the unfailing zest
of it, the extraordinary freshness of eye, the indomitable
youthfulness and health of spirit--all the qualities that we
associate with Davis himself. It was serious work in a sense
that only the more thoughtful of its critics had begun of late
to comprehend. It had not inspired a body of disciples like
Kipling's, but it had helped to clear the air and to give a
new proof of the vitality of certain ideals--even of a few of
the simpler ones now outmoded in current masterpieces; and it
was at its best far truer in an artistic sense than it was the
fashion of its easy critics to allow. Whether Davis could or
would have written a novel of the higher rank is a useless
question now; he himself, who was a critic of his own work