forgetting again to enumerate the one I am most 

 proud of, the sweet-peas, which right up to the 

 frost continued their grateful supply of gay and 

 fragrant flowers. I do not count upon being able 

 to keep them so late again, and attribute my suc- 

 cess this year to the constant moisture and ab- 

 sence of strong sun throughout the summer. They 

 have behaved most heroically, for I consider sus- 

 tained effort to be the highest form of heroism. 



How often, however, is real heroism misunder- 

 stood and disregarded, while its less solid rela- 

 tions, dash and pluck, are lauded and rewarded. 

 There is often greater heroism to be found in pri- 

 vate life than on the battle-field. If, as I am 

 afraid sometimes occurs, a brave deed is done with 

 the thought of self-glorification, I do not call it 

 heroic, though it may involve pluck in a high de- 

 gree, for to my mind heroism is above all self-sac- 

 rifice and thought for the welfare of others, and 

 its sublimest height is reached where the sacrifice 

 is made not in the excitement of the moment at 

 the risk of life, but in the calm certainty of death 

 without reward, like Jim Bludso, of whom Colo- 

 nel John Hay said: 



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