d we have all been to New York, so he made for us the pictures he
wished us to see. And when he did not thus use New York for his colors
he found other means as familiar to us and as suggestive; he always
made us SEE. What claims our thanks in equal measure, he knew our kind
of curiosity so well that he never failed to make us see what we were
most anxious to see. He knew where our dark spots were, cleared up the
field of vision, and left us unconfused. This discernment of our
needs, and this power of enlightening and pleasuring his reader, sprang
from seeds native in him. They were, as we say, gifts; for he always
had them but did not make them. He was a national figure at
twenty-three. He KNEW HOW, before he began.

Youth called to youth: all ages read him, but the young men and young
women have turned to him ever since his precocious fame made him their
idol. They got many things from him, but above all they live with a
happier bravery because of him. Reading the man beneath the print,
they found their prophet and gladly perceived that a prophet is not
always cowled and bearded, but may be a gallant young gentleman. This
one called merrily to them in his manly voice; and they followed him.
He bade them see that pain is negligible, that fear is a joke, and that
the world is poignantly interesting, joyously lovable.

They will always follow him.

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 mor