ughtful 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
without illusions or affectation, used to say that he could not; but it
is certain that in the early part of "Captain Macklin" he displayed a
power really Thackerayan in kind.

Of his descriptive writing there need be no fear of speaking with
extravagance; he had made himself, especially in his later work,
through long practice and his inborn instinct for the significant and
the fresh aspect, quite the best of all contemporary correspondents and
reporters; and his rivals in the past could be easily numbered.

BY AUGUSTUS THOMAS

One spring afternoon in 1889 a member brought into the Lambs Club
house--then on Twenty-sixth Street--as a guest Mr. Richard Harding
Davis. I had not clearly caught the careless introduction, and,
answering my question, Mr. Davis repeated the surname. He did not
pronounce it as would a Middle Westerner like myself, but more as a
citizen of London might. To spell his pronunciation Dyvis is to
burlesque it slightly, but that is as near as it can be given
phonetically. Several other words containing _a_ long a were sounded
by him in the same way, and to my ear the rest of his speech had a
related eccentricity. I am told that other men educated in certain
Philadelphia schools have a similar diction, but at that time many of
Mr. Davis's new acquaintances thought the manner was 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 corr