an affectation. I mention the peculiarity, which after years
convinced me was as native to him as was the color of his
eyes, because I am sure that it was a barrier between him and
some persons who met him only casually.

At that time he was a reporter on a Philadelphia newspaper,
and in appearance was what he continued to be until his death,
an unassertive but self-respecting, level-eyed, clean-toothed,
and wholesome athlete.

The reporter developed rapidly into the more serious workman,
and amongst the graver business was that of war correspondent.

I have known fraternally several war correspondents--Dick
Davis, Fred Remington, John Fox, Caspar Whitney, and
others--and it seems to me that, while differing one from
another as average men differ, they had in common a kind of
veteran superiority to trivial surprise, a tolerant world
wisdom that mere newspaper work in other departments does not
bring. At any rate, and however acquired, Dick Davis had the
quality. And with that seasoned calm he kept and cultivated
the reporter sense. He had insight--the faculty of going back
of appearances. He saw the potential salients in occurrences
and easily separated them from the commonplace--and the
commonplace itself when it was informed by a spirit that made
it helpful did not mislead him by its plainness.

That is another war-correspondent quality. He saw when
adherence to duty approached the heroic. He knew the degree
of pressure that gave it test conditions and he had an