Littell was a clubman and a man of the world; long and shrewd observations of men and things--for he was past sixty and had lived thoroughly--had given him a keen insight into character and a knowledge of the trend of things that made him a delightful and instructive companion. A little skeptical, perhaps, of the motives of men and particularly of the virtues they affected, and doubting of the seriousness of life and disposed to get the most out of it; his views and criticisms, while often keen and rarely orthodox, were never harsh or uncharitable, and at the most were but mildly cynical. I always felt he was advised whereof he spoke, and his judgment sound, and I had formed a habit of looking to him for advice and help in worldly affairs. He seemed to take the interest in me such as an older man might in a junior and looked me up often at my office or the club. The fact that he was a lawyer, though a retired one, gave us much in common, and we had many pleasant hours together. Every one has known men like Ned Davis; well meaning and hard working, but without great ability, and fond of pleasure and extravagant living; he was incapable of real success at anything, and was born to trouble as the sparks fly upward. His resources were always something of a puzzle to his intimates, for while occupying some nondescript position with a prominent firm of brokers, he associated with men of large means and extravagant habits and played high at cards. Still I never heard that he failed to pay his debts, and if he borrowed, only the lenders knew of it, so the public had no ground for criticism. With all his shortcomings, he was a good fellow to know and be with; of a bright disposition, ready at any time for anything, unselfish and affectionate by nature, he was only his own enemy. The world has known many like him, but when it has spoken kindly of them, it has said all.