Davies

“ As the wretch looks o'er Siberia's shore, When winter-bound the wave is; Sae droops our heart, when we maun part Frae charming, lovely Davies. Her smile's a gift frae 'boon the lift, That maks us mair than princes; A sceptred hand, a king's command, Is in her darting glances; The man in arms 'gainst female charms Even he her willing slave is, He hugs his chain, and owns the reign Of conquering, lovely Davies. My Muse, to dream of such a theme, Her feeble powers surrender: The eagle's gaze alone surveys The sun's meridian splendour. I wad in vain essay the strain, The deed too daring brave is ”

“ We lurched along, my scull sometimes buried to the thwart, sometimes striking at the bubbles of a wave top. Davies, in the bows, said “Pull!” or “Steady!” at intervals. I heard the scud smacking against his oilskin back. Then a wan, yellow light glanced over the waves. “Easy! Let her come!” and the bowsprit of the Dulcibella, swollen to spectral proportions, was stabbing the darkness above me. “Back a bit! Two good strokes. Ship your scull! Now jump!” I clawed at the tossing hull and landed in a heap. Davies followed with the painter, and the dinghy swept astern. ”

“ Davies.
“Mrs. Davies, be quiet and let me speak?”
“Of course I will, sir,” said the woman with a ludicrously sudden calm and coaxing tone.
There was a silence; Mr. Eden eyed the men. Small guilt peeped from them by its usual little signs.
Mr. Eden's lip curled magnificently.
“So you did not come to see me—you were sent by that man. (Mrs. Davies, be quiet; curiosity is not a crime, like torturing the defenseless.) Mr. Hawes sent you that you might tell him how soon his victims are like to lose their only earthly defender.” ”

“ I bowed; possibly I smiled. I do smile sometimes when a ray of real sunshine darts across my pathway.
“I should be very glad to try such a situation,” I replied.
A look of relief, so vivid that it startled me, altered at once the whole character of his countenance; and perceiving how intense was the power and fascination underlying his quiet exterior, I asked myself who and what this man was; no ordinary personage, I was sure, but who? Had Miss Davies purposely withheld his name? I began to think so. ”

“ It was always torture to Davies to feel a good breeze running to waste while he was inactive at anchor or on shore. The “shore” to him was an inferior element, merely serving as a useful annexe to the water—a source of necessary supplies.
“Let’s have lunch,” he pursued, as we resumed our way down the fiord. A vision of iced drinks, tempting salads, white napery, and an attentive steward mocked me with past recollections.
“You’ll find a tongue,” said the voice of doom, “in the starboard sofa-locker; beer under the floor in the bilge. ”

“ To me he was much, to Hobhouse every thing.—My poor Hobhouse doted on Matthews. For me, I did not love quite so much as I honoured him; I was indeed so sensible of his infinite superiority, that though I did not envy, I stood in awe of it. He, Hobhouse, Davies, and myself, formed a coterie of our own at Cambridge and elsewhere. Davies is a wit and man of the world, and feels as much as such a character can do; but not as Hobhouse has been affected. Davies, who is not a scribbler, has always beaten us all in the war of words, and by his colloquial powers at once delighted and kept us in order. ”

“ Davies was just beginning, in his summary way, to tumble the things together for washing up, when there was a sound of a step on deck, two sea-boots appeared on the ladder, and, before we could wonder who the visitor was, a little man in oilskins and a sou’-wester was stooping towards us in the cabin door, smiling affectionately at Davies out of a round grizzled beard. ”

“ We exchanged some polite platitudes about the fog and his voyage last night from Kappeln, which appeared to be a town some fifteen miles up the fiord.
Davies joined in from the forecastle with an excess of warmth which almost took the words out of my mouth. We exhausted the subject very soon, and then my vis-à-vis smiled paternally at me, as he had done at Davies, and said, confidentially:
“It is good that the captain is no more alone. He is a fine young man—Heaven, what a fine young man! I love him as my son—but he is too brave, too reckless. It is good for him to have a friend.” ”

“ Davies, trumpeter. Tell him to halt his party where they are, and say I wish to see him at once." Dashing the tears away from his eyes, little Murray said, "Yes, sir," and mounted his horse. He was starting when Devers called him again. "You needn't tell Mr. Davies what's happened," he said. "It would demoralize him entirely;" adding in an undertone that was none the less audible to the men around him, "He's worse than demoralized now."
Digging graves with hunting-knives and fingers as the only tools is wearisome work. "What's the use of it anyhow?" reasoned the captain, impatiently. ”

“ Davies had never set eyes on him from the moment of their parting at dusk that gloomy Dakota evening to the northwest of the Springs,—from that evening to that of his return. Totally ignorant of much that had taken place during his illness, he was ready to serve his captain faithfully, even though he felt that he could not like or trust him. They had but brief converse. "Take all the time you need to get your quarters ready, Mr. Davies. You and Hastings can divide the detail work of stables and roll-call between you," said Devers. ”

“ For my part, I made no pretence of being a Davies. Faithful to my lower nature, I vowed the Germans were right, and, not without a secret zest, drew a lurid picture of the horrors of crewless cruising, and the drudgery that my remorseless skipper inflicted on me. It was delightful to see Davies wincing when I described my first night at Flensburg, for I had my revenge at last, and did not spare him. He bore up gallantly under my jesting, but I knew very well by his manner that he had not forgiven me my banter about the “charming daughter”.
“You speak German well,” said von Brüning. ”

“ Davies rode among the company a prey to mingled and singular feelings. He was very much excited and yet depressed by the character of the crowd which, in so far as he could see, was largely impelled to its jaunt by curiosity and yet also able under sufficient motivation on the part of some one—any one, really—to kill too. There was not so much daring as a desire to gain daring from others, an unconscious wish or impulse to organize the total strength or will of those present into one strength or one will, sufficient to overcome the sheriff and inflict death upon his charge. ”

“ Davies dropped behind again and into silence and tried to recover his nerves. He could scarcely realize that he, ordinarily accustomed to the routine of the city, its humdrum and at least outward social regularity, was a part of this. The night was so soft, the air so refreshing. The shadowy trees were stirring with a cool night wind. Why should any one have to die this way? Why couldn’t the people of Baldwin or elsewhere have bestirred themselves on the side of the law before this, just let it take its course? ”

“ The friends whom Davies attracted to his side at Cambridge made easy for him the entrance into the inner life of society in London. He became one of the most fashionable men of his day. Byron, Douglas Kinnaird and Hobhouse "formed one part of the chain," Brummell, Alvanley and Davies another. Gronow no bad judge of a man's fitness for the dining table and the drawing room, who "lived much" with him and Wedderburn Webster called him "one of the most agreeable men I ever met." ”

“ Davies was gradually resuming his natural self, with abstracted intervals, in which he lashed the helm to finger a distant rope, with such speed that the movements seemed simultaneous. Once he vanished, only to reappear in an instant with a chart, which he studied, while steering, with a success that its reluctant folds seemed to render impossible. Waiting respectfully for his revival I had full time to look about. The fiord here was about a mile broad. From the shore we had left the hills rose steeply, but with no rugged grandeur ”

“ Davies’s shop is kept nowadays by a Covent Garden salesman. Instead of being lined with books, it is filled with baskets of fruit and sacks of potatoes, and the parlour wall and that glass-panelled parlour door are thrown down, and parlour and shop are all one. But the upper part of the house remains practically unaltered, and with a little imagining you can restore the lower to what it was when these walls held the gruff rumbling of the Doctor’s voice, and looked down on the humiliation of Boswell under the roguish eyes of Davies and his pretty wife. ”

“ Davies is the natural, untaught lyrical genius. His capacity is neither so deep nor so intense as that of Burns, but within his limits he can write poems of great beauty. When he writes of nature he almost recreates the spirit of Wordsworth, he shows such insight, freshness, and ease. His artless simplicity is at times almost grotesque, yet the reader cannot help admitting that it is in keeping with his subject. This marked naïveté, however, is often given a queer metaphysical twist; or it sometimes rises, with a mighty rhythm, into passages of noble harmony. ”

“ Suddenly, Davies triggered his safety belt. At close range, before the lines could fan out in a radius, all the lines in front attached themselves to Price, the ones at each side clung to their table and the floor, and all the others to the table behind Infield. Davies released all lines except those on Price, and then threw himself backward, dragging Price out of his chair and onto the floor. Davies didn't mind making others fall. They were always trying to make him fall just so they could laugh at him or pounce on him; why shouldn't he like to make them fall first? ”

“ When Davies left London in 1889, on being presented to the Trinity College living of Kirkby Lonsdale, Westmorland, a valedictory address, to which was attached a remarkable list of signatures, recognized the combination in him of a ‘clear and firm assertion of Christian truth with a generous appreciation of all earnest thought and feeling’, and an ‘habitual sympathy with rich and poor alike’. ”

“ A burly German made a rush for the car the moment she appeared upon the platform and lifted her off with vehement osculatory welcome, Davies standing silently and patiently by the while, then surrendering her traps to her legal protector. "He is such a kind young man," said the smiling frau. "He gif me his seat. We have a sohn, yust so old as you," she added, "but he is farder as Chick-ago. He is a soldier, out by Fort Larmie." ”

“ Davies remained standing, and pecked at the gravel with his toe.
“We have got two valuable clues,” I went on; “that rendezvous on the 25th is one, and the name Esens is the other. We may consider them to eternity; I vote we act on them.”
“How?” said Davies. “We’re under a searchlight here; and if we’re caught——”
“Your plan—ugh!—it’s as risky as mine, and more so,” I replied, rising with a jerk, for a spasm of cramp took me. “We must separate,” I added, as we walked on. “We want, at one stroke, to prove to them that we’re harmless, and to get a fresh start. I go back to London.” ”

“ I exclaimed. “I can’t stand this, I must do something. Can’t we go for another walk?”
I spoke in bitter, half-delirious jest.
“Of course we can,” said Davies, “if you don’t mind a bit of a tumble in the dinghy.”
I reconsidered my rash suggestion, but it was too late now to turn back, and some desperate expedient was necessary. I found myself on deck, gripping a backstay and looking giddily down and then up at the dinghy, as it bobbed like a cork in the trough of the sea alongside, while Davies settled the sculls and rowlocks. ”

“ One more backward glance does Cranston fling as his magnificent bay quickens his stride, and the long line instantly responds. One half nod, half smile to Davies, for the Parson rides like moss trooper of old, with grim set face, despite the eager light in his keen, blue-gray eyes.
"Open out now a little, men! Gently, keep your rank!" for the chargers are tugging madly, straining for a race. ”

“ At the first touch of the hand on his arm, the unfortunate man had wheeled round as if spun on a pivot, and shrank back with a low, piteous cry, as if some dumb beast were caught in the toils. The blood fled away from the wretch's face, and the skin became gray as if a shadow of death had passed in the air and fallen on it, and Dyson caught a choking whisper—
"Mr. Davies! For God's sake, have pity on me, Mr. Davies. On my oath, I say—" and his voice sank to silence as he heard the message, and strove in vain to bite his lip; and summon up to his aid some tinge of manhood. ”

“ The clapping of Miss Drexel's hands was the first warning Davies received that the feat was accomplished, and, swinging on to the running board, he found the car backing in the straight-away up the next zig-zag and Wemple still chanting ecstatically, "Oh, you Merry Olds, you Merry Olds!" ”

“ Though Davies stood somewhat apart from the main currents of thought both without and within his church, and was largely unknown to English audiences or readers, he exercised a strong influence on Welsh life and thought in the 19th century. He was a serious student, especially of anti-theistic positions, a good speaker, and a frequent contributor to Welsh theological journals. ”

“ At the back of such mind as was left me lodged two insistent thoughts: “we must hurry on,” “we are going wrong.” As to the latter, take a link-boy through a London fog and you will experience the same thing: he always goes the way you think is wrong. “We’re rowing back!” I remember shouting to Davies once, having become aware that it was now my left scull which splashed against obstructions. “Rubbish,” said Davies. ”