Adventures and Letters of Richard Harding Davis | Page 9

of friends, both as to numbers and variety, of which he died
possessed. Although a "prep," he made many friends among the
undergraduates of Lehigh. He made friends with the friends of his
uncle and many friends in both of the Bethlehems of which his uncle
had probably never heard. Even at that early age he counted among his
intimates William W. Thurston, who was president of the Bethlehem
Iron Company, and J. Davis Brodhead, one of Pennsylvania's most
conspicuous Democratic congressmen and attorneys. Those who knew
him at that time can easily understand why Richard attracted men and
women so much older than himself. He was brimming over with
physical health and animal spirits and took the keenest interest in every
one he met and in everything that was going on about him. And in the
broadest sense he saw to it then, as he did throughout his life, that he
always did his share.
During those early days at Bethlehem his letters to his family were full
of his social activities, with occasional references to his work at school.
He was always going to dinners or dances, entertaining members of
visiting theatrical companies; and on Friday night my mother usually
received a telegram, saying that he would arrive the next day with a
party of friends whom he had inadvertently asked to lunch and a
matinee. It was after one of these weekly visits that my mother wrote
Richard the following:
Monday Night. MY DARLING Boy:
You went off in such a hurry that it took my breath at the last. You say
coming down helps you. It certainly does me. It brings a real sunshine
to Papa and me. He was saying that to-day. I gave Nolly a sort of
holiday after her miseries last night. We went down street and got Papa
a present for our wedding day, a picture, after all, and then I took Miss
Baker some tickets for a concert. I saw her father who said he "must
speak about my noble looking boy." I always thought him a genius but
now I think him a man of penetration as well. Then Nolly and I went
over to see the Russians. But they are closely boxed up and not allowed

to-day to see visitors. So we came home cross and hungry. All evening
I have been writing business letters.
Papa has gone to a reception and Charley is hard at work at his desk.
I answered Mr. Allen's letter this morning, dear, and told him you
would talk to him. When you do, dear, talk freely to him as to me. You
will not perhaps agree with all he says. But your own thoughts will be
healthier for bringing them--as I might say, out of doors. You saw how
it was by coming down here. Love of Christ is not a melancholy nor a
morbid thing, dear love, but ought to make one more social and
cheerful and alive.
I wish you could come home oftener. Try and get ahead with lessons so
that you can come oftener. And when you feel as if prayer was a burden,
stop praying and go out and try to put your Christianity into real action
by doing some kindness--even speaking in a friendly way to somebody.
Bring yourself into contact with new people--not John, Hugh, Uncle
and Grandma, and try to act to them as Christ would have you act, and
my word for it, you will go home with a new light on your own
relations to Him and a new meaning for your prayers. You remember
the prayer "give me a great thought to refresh me." I think you will find
some great thoughts in human beings--they will help you to understand
yourself and God, when you try to help them God makes you happy my
darling.
MAMA.
It was in this year that Richard enjoyed the thrill of seeing in print his
first contribution to a periodical. The date of this important event,
important, at least, to my brother, was February 1, the fortunate
publication was Judge, and the effusion was entitled "The Hat and Its
Inmate." Its purport was an overheard conversation between two young
ladies at a matinee and the editors thought so well of it that for the
privilege of printing the article they gave Richard a year's subscription
to Judge. His scrap-book of that time shows that in 1884 Life published
a short burlesque on George W. Cable's novel, "Dr. Sevier," and in the
same year The Evening Post paid him $1.05 for an article about "The

New Year at Lehigh." It was also in the spring of 1884 that Richard
published his first book, "The Adventures of My Freshman," a neat
little paper-covered volume including half a dozen of the