ere
as penitent as naughty children, so I took advantage of it and gave
them a lecture on things soldiers ought not to do, among them drinking
whisky--even with the good excuse of being cold--and showing them
quite plainly that this scare they had had came from that bad habit.
They seemed very sorry, and when they got up to go, they saluted me as
if I were their captain. Then off they went to the fort."

Several days later she received a letter of thanks from the officers
at Fort Adams, and a gold watch from the men she had rescued "in
grateful appreciation of a woman's heroism."

On through the long years Ida Lewis, with hair growing slowly a little
grayer, and with arms a little less equal to the burden of rowing a
heavy boat through fierce winter gales, was faithful to her duties as
keeper of the light, now never spoken of as the Lime Rock Light, but
always as the Ida Lewis Light; and, although she was always averse to
notoriety, yet she was forced to accept the penalty of her brave
deeds, and welcome the thousands of tourists who now swarmed daily
over the promontory and insisted on a personal talk with the keeper of
the light. Had it not been for Mrs. Lewis, both aged and feeble, but
able to meet and show the visitors over the island, Ida would have had
no privacy at all and no time for her work.

Although she always disliked praise or publicity, yet she accepted
official recognition of her faithful work with real appreciation, and
it was touching to see her joy when one day she received a letter
bearing the signature of the Secretary of the Treasury, notifying her
that the gold life-saving medal had been awarded to her--and stating
that she was the only woman in America upon whom the honor had been
conferred! At a later date she also received three silver medals:
gifts from the State of Rhode Island, and from the Humane Society of
Massachusetts, and also from the New York Life-Saving Association. All
these recognitions of her achievements Ida Lewis received with shining
eyes and wonder that such praise should have come to her for the
simple performance of her duty. "Any one would rescue a drowning man,
of course," she said. "I just happen to be where I see them first!"

But although she was so modest, and although so many honors were
heaped upon her, none ever meant to her what the first expression of
public appreciation meant, shown by the citizens of Rhode Island.

An invitation had been sent to her, asking