the steps of my downfall." And then there come the last hours. His two
companions lie dead, one on either side of him. Outside of his little
snow hut is the raging storm. He is alone with death. And as calmly as
though he were writing a report in the naval offices in London, he
scrawls with frozen fingers those immortal letters, first to Mrs. Wilson
and Mrs. Bowers, the mothers of the two men whose bodies are beside him,
then to his own mother and his wife, then to his friends, Sir James M.
Barrie and Vice-Admiral Egerton, then the statement to the public with
its closing words, "I do not regret this journey, which has shown that
Englishmen can endure hardships, help one another and meet death with as
great fortitude as ever in the past. We took risks, we knew we took
them; things have come out against us, and therefore we have no cause
for complaint, but bow to the will of Providence, determined still to do
our best to the last. But had we lived I should have had a tale to tell
of the hardihood, endurance and courage of my companions which would
have stirred the heart of every Englishman." Eight months later his
body was found, sitting erect, his arms extended to his dead companions
on either side as though his lonely soul sought at the end the comfort
of even their frozen bodies, and on his face a smile as beautiful as
that of a child just fallen into slumber.

Heroism! my friends! What is the heroism of even the bravest soldier
compared to heroism such as this? I would not disparage the men who have
suffered and died on the fields of Flanders and Galicia. But is it not
true, after all, that we can do much if only we have the dear friends to
bear us company, and that the real test comes when we stand "alone,
alone, all, all alone," with the universe and God. To work alone, like
the pioneer, with never a hand to clasp and help his own; to die alone,
like Captain Scott, with wife, child, mother, friends thousands of miles
away, all ignorant of his fate, and "still to do the best to the
last"--this is heroism. The soldier as a soldier for all his courage
cannot match it.

But there is still a third aspect of the soldier's life which touches
very vitally upon this question of heroism. I refer to the fact that the
soldier, in the vast majority of cases, is engaged in a business which
has the enthusiastic endorsement of his fellowmen. He is distinctly on
the right side. He is doing the popular thing. The eyes of the people