Paris, September 15, 1918.

To A. G.

Yesterday, although Sunday, was such a strenuous day that I did not get a chance to write to you. before bed time and then my brain was so fagged I didn't have an idea in my head, so, as usual under such circumstances, went to sleep instead of attempting to write.

We had two air raids in the night. The first lasted two hours, and the second I don't know how long as I could not stay awake to see or hear it out. However, I awoke at the usual hour this morning, have had my coffee and egg, which I cooked, and have an hour and a half before me to write in, so here it goes.

Just at present I am working hard over the pouponiere at Porchefontaine, which is just at the gates of Versailles. It is the most interesting piece of work we have undertaken in France, and I am glad to say I am to have an active part in it. Dr. Lucas and I are doing it together, and I think he enjoys as much as I do having a real finger in the pie. We plan a very constructive piece of social work there. It is really a more social than medical problem. We will have in our care 250 resident infants, 100 boarded out and about 100 wet nurses, all unmarried mothers. Nothing has ever been done for the latter to help them to a better life. They are simply treated as cows. When their milk dries they are turned out into the world with their babies in their arms, penniless. While they are in the institution nothing is done for them. They are given poor food and stuffy ugly clothes. A woman is never permitted to leave the place so she has no opportunity to meet the father of her child and no chance to marry him. Then the homes of the children who are boarded there are never visited. No one knows whether they should be in an institution or not---no one cares.

You can see what a task we have before us apart from the actual care of the babies. The plumbing is most unsanitary, and a model but dirty cow house at our very doors. They milk the cows whenever the babies need the milk---about five times a day. We will install a Friend---expert dairyman. I have been intensely interested in this place since I first saw it five months ago, and have done much to interest Dr. Lucas in it, the final result being our occupancy. We really made such a good demonstration with fifty children that the doctors were glad to turn it over to us.

The French Society gives us the money which they spend on it every month, and we supplement if necessary. One of the first things I am insisting on after the cow house is put in order is a chapel for the women, who never have a chance to go to church. It seems to me extraordinary. We spent the day there yesterday with Mrs. Holzman, a very remarkable woman who is in our bureau, a singer by trade but Red Cross business manager here. We made wonderful plans for those women, which if they can be carried out will revolutionize their drab and sordid lives. As for the babies, they are adorable. I would like to tuck a few under my arms to bring home.

Mrs. Holzman didn't think it was so amusing the other day when she asked for an expert plumber and they sent her a piano tuner. But isn't it fine that I have something constructive to do? I have been so bored with just moving nurses around and trying to spread them out thin. I think you know that our primary interest in Porchefontaine is that it provides us with a place to teach our pupils. We have a class of thirty-eight commencing October 1st. We will send twenty there at a time. I will add to the instruction on the care of the child the moral obligation to the mother. I am going to have mothers' meetings there and have simple talks given on the care of older children so that they will be interested in the future care of their children. As you see, I am quite full of this.

Late yesterday afternoon, we took Col. Murphy, our new chief, in to see Mrs. Ladd's room, which becomes more interesting every day. She is such an interesting woman. I should have added her to the list of friends I mentioned to you in my last letter. I have seen a good deal of her of late in a very intimate way, as she is modelling my head, which she works on whenever she gets to the point where she must have something normal to do. Her work gets fearfully on her nerves at times. The surgeons we took there yesterday were most enthusiastic; they agreed that her masks were much more satisfactory than the noses made by plastic surgery. She hasn't had any of our men so far. Dr. Ladd came in from Toul while we were all there, and brought us the joyful news that so far our casualties had been very light. You know the feeling of rejoicing over a victory and dreading the other side of the page.

Paris, September 18, 1918.

To A. G.

Your letter, referring to my pride in marching down the Champs Elysee with the flag, is at hand, and while I think of it, I am going to answer one part of it. You say America should have gone into the war as soon as Germany violated Belgium---that now we can see that clearly. I am not so sure that I agree with you about that, although from a matter of principle I believe we should always spring forward to protect the weaker. I am not at all sure in this case that it would have been the best thing for the cause of Humanity. In the first place, the European nations, it seems to me, needed a general purifying. The subsequent rotten state of French politics showed that in a very dramatic way. We all know the moral condition of England's aristocracy, and doubtless it was the same through all the states. Certainly Russian morals were at a very low ebb. A quick, short defeat of Germany would not have purified the world or brought with it a realization of the horrors of war which has come to all the world now.

As for ourselves, had we declared war at that time, it would not have been the declaration of a united nation. I feel that the President was inspired in his leadership of the nation; that our spiritual and mental preparation through these trying years was of more vital importance and value to us than the material act of preparing for war would have been. We have always doubted---at least many have, not I---if when the test came we could appear before the world a united country, although composed of such a heterogeneous mass of humanity, and now we know that the German born boy over here fights just as well for America as the descendent from the Mayflower. I think this has all been brought about because the President has clearly shown the people and the world that we are fighting for the future of democracy, not to interfere in the quarrels of Europe. This seems to be rehashing old arguments, but you invited it, so forgive me.

You wrote later than you were going to see me in a movie. It must have been a very queer sensation. I hope you wrote me how it looked. It was indeed a great day. The voluntary sacrifice at home has made more impression on the people over here than anything else. No other nation seems to have done so well in that as we have, and it is appreciated that we have done so through a realization of its necessity, when so far removed from the actual scenes of war.

On the train from Lyons to Marseilles,
September 27, 1918.

To L. K. S.

I am travelling through the most lovely country, running parallel with a broad river, the Rhone, quite high mountains close by, and a beautiful harvest in the foreground---huge pumpkins and grapes. The stone farm houses with their red tiled roofs are so fascinating. I doubt if you can read this effort of mine. The train has stopped for a few moments, so I will hasten to finish.

Dr. Lucas was with me at Lyons for two days, then went on to Evian. I will meet him later at Marseilles. A poor poilu with one leg has just come into the compartment to keep me from forgetting that we are here for the grim business of war; otherwise the country at this harvest time looks so peaceful and prosperous that it is difficult to think of war.

I wish you could have been with me yesterday at the Chateau which is thirty miles from Lyons. We have ninety convalescent children there. It is an ideally situated place, the only drawback being lack of water, which sounded natural. We are actually teaching the French children there how to play. They have swings, basketball, football, etc. It was a real joy to see the difference in those little repatriés, whom I have seen arrive at Evian so depressed, under-nourished and dazed; they do not even wear black aprons, the boys being in overalls and the girls in blue checked aprons. The Mayor of Lyons has asked us to introduce playground work into the Lyons schools. We have a class of normal school teachers.

There are at present 600 children at one of our places near Lyons, 175 from Paris who were taken there at the time of the spring bombardment, the rest from Toul. There is a great difference between the two sets, the Toul children showing very decidedly the brutalizing effects of war.

En route to Dijon, October 1, 1918.

The letter I commenced to you en route to Lyons is still incomplete, so I make another effort. I left Marseilles last night, having spent four days there. It is at all times a most interesting place owing to its very mixed population of Greeks, Arabs, Spanish, Italians, and heaven knows what besides. Just at present the streets are so overcrowded with different peoples in strange costumes, everyone wandering up and down in the middle of the streets, no attention whatever being paid to the narrow sidewalks, that one cannot get away from the delusion that it is a scene in a comic opera, especially at night. Although all these peoples are gathered together, the city is not all cosmopolitan in the broad sense of the term, as the same old customs prevail from the time of the Romans, or at least from medieval times. It is extraordinary how little they have learned from other peoples. The most primitive customs march side by side with progress. For instance, you see on the streets autos, tiny donkey carts, oxen carts, and men or women in harness pulling heavy loads, and the food is still sold in the fascinating open markets. I have never seen such beautiful fish, all the colors of the rainbow. I had a good deal of time for sight-seeing as there was very little to see of our work, which is not flourishing there. The people are almost impossible to work with, and treat the poor northern refugees very badly, with no sympathy whatever. They do not want us to help them, as they say if they are kept very miserable they will not stay. The city is horribly over-crowded, having almost doubled in size.

I took a day off yesterday for sight-seeing, or rather for pleasure, as I had our head nurse from Lyons with me, who is badly in need of a rest, not having had a vacation for a year, like myself, but I am not tired. We took a sail boat, and had a wonderful time at sunset. If it weren't for all the camouflaged men-of-war in the harbor, one could forget the war. The surrounding country is very much like California.

October 6, 1918.

To L. McL.

So much has happened since I began this letter on the train. Porter has arrived; Leslie is with us, working hard as housekeeper to our Porchefontaine pouponiere; Spanish grippe has the whole world in its clutches to add to the sorrow and horror, and now this morning there seems to be a general movement towards peace.

Marseilles, September 28, 1918.

To A. G.

Our dispensary is in a most picturesque and interesting Roman ruin, where excavations are still going on and art treasures being found daily. The woman who owns the property is a boy lover, and unconsciously has there a teal settlement. The boys, all poor Italians, have lessons in designing, her main object seeming to be to discover a genius. I have lovely photos of it all. Our work here, apart from the interest in this settlement, is not flourishing.

We are very much worried about one of our nurses who has typhoid (not a Red Cross nurse). She cannot be kept in the hotel, and there is absolutely no place to send her as the hospitals are over-crowded. In fact, everything is over-crowded; the jail is so over-crowded that there is a long waiting list of people hoping(?) to get in.

We planned to open a course for health visitors, but I see no prospect at present. The situation is so different at Lyons, where our head nurse, Miss Sophie Nelson, is a real live wire. She has seventy nurses under her now, and handles the situation beautifully.

Poor Madame Gillet Motte is in such trouble, although she appears just as serene as all the French do. Her father died in captivity, and now her mother is held as a hostage.

I had a nice time with Anna Carrigan. Clarence is consul there. They are both well liked. She spends all her time looking out for our men, who are wounded and being cared for in French hospitals. The French nuns adore them, and pet the boys like babies, but they long for American sympathy.

I expect to find many letters when I get back to Paris on Wednesday. I have not heard for so long. I shall stop en route at Dijon to see our Camouflage day nursery. I sent you a letter from the nurse in charge there. We are going out this afternoon to see Chateau d'If where my friend Monte Cristo spent so many weary years. I am in the sixth volume of his entrancing life. I think the people here really believe he lived; it shows how tradition grows. I shall tackle Notre Dame next. I do not find the modern story up to the old ones. I suppose I belong to another generation.

The trip down here was so beautiful, and yesterday we motored to see the sick nurse who is in a refugee camp about thirty miles from Marseilles. The scenery reminded me so of California that I felt half homesick and half comforted. Sharp hills rose from lovely valleys where the vines were covered with heavy bunches of purple grapes; the blue sky was so like ours, and occasional glimpses of the sea and rocks made it all seem very natural.

I spent an afternoon in the poor quarter. It is like Naples with narrow streets with steps very steep leading to the sea, dirty children crowding round. All looked Italian and I felt that I must know some of them. Could see Salemi, Spatafori, etc. Every woman was crouched down beside some food she was selling---weird sea food, kinds I never saw before, quantities of grapes and figs. The grapes are abundant this year.

There is a young fellow from San Francisco in this hotel named Wilson and I have been visiting him. He asked the chambermaid to beg some of the Red Cross ladies to call on him. The poor boys are so forlorn when ill.

American Aides: From First Annual Report.

The difficulty of getting nurses from any source was so great that it soon became apparent that we must train our own assistants. I immediately began to study the subject of aides and came to the conclusion that American aides who had had the required amount of first aid hospital experience, provided that they spoke French, would be very valuable assistants to the nurses. It was only after much correspondence and explanation on my part that the nursing service at Washington was convinced of the wisdom of sending aides to France and it was only with the distinct understanding that these aides were to be used for nothing but the children's work, that they finally consented to send them. I opened my correspondence with the Washington Office after our arrival in France in August, but it was not until December 15th that the first aide arrived. Since then fifty have been assigned to the Children's Bureau out of the 150 asked for. The usefulness of these aides has far surpassed our greatest expectations. I consider that we have a very remarkable group of young women. They have done splendid work which has been very much appreciated by the nurses who are unstinted in their praise of them. Untrained women as they were, a majority coming from luxurious homes, they have never murmured at any task set them, and have uncomplainingly endured many hardships.

This statement is made without any exception. Not one moral question has arisen so far in relation to any aide in our service, nor have I received any complaint of any kind from any nurse or doctor as to the poor work or lack of discipline of an aide.

I think the nursing service at Washington should receive the credit for the high state of efficiency of this branch of the service as it has been the result of their careful selection.

These French-speaking aides performed a valuable service when the great need of our wounded came in the Service Santé at which time they acted both as nurses and interpreters.

No date.

Dr. William French, from Washington, D. C., and Miss Stern from Boston, are doing splendid work in Paris, 6 Rue Clavel. A model settlement house and health center has been founded there. I say "founded" because I feel sure it will be permanent. Mme. Poincare has accepted the presidency of the orphanage. It is strange how little headway ideas, which originated in France, have made in France. For example, Dr. Calmette of Lille years ago organized the first Well Baby Station. There were few in France when we arrived, while at home there is hardly a town between the Atlantic and Pacific where Child Welfare Centers are not now well established. It would be well for us to follow the French law, that all factories employing women shall have rooms where nursing mothers can feed their babies without their wages being docked for time lost.

A special kindergarten is maintained for children suffering from malnutrition or starvation. The charts show a surprising thing. First, the children lose weight as they refuse American food (oatmeal, corn meal, a plentiful supply of milk, etc.). Their epicurean tastes rebelled against such plain food, but means were found of disguising these strange foods. As an observer writes: "Now they scrape the dishes of puffed rice served with syrup and cocoanut cakes made of rolled oats, and corn bread is gobbled up for cake. Tomato juice is very popular." After the first drop in weight they make rapid gains. The death rate has been reduced in an astonishing degree.

Hotel Brighton, October 1, 1918.

To C. S.

We are an so excited over the peace overtures and so proud of Wilson's reply which we know voices the feelings of the nation. As Americans, we surely have much to be proud of these days and of nothing more than the voluntary sacrifices you people at home are making.

Constance sent me the loveliest photograph of Betty. It is a joy to everyone. I never saw a sweeter photograph of a little girl. I am working hard at a Crêche we are running at Versailles. We have 300 babies in our care. There is an epidemic of grippe there now. I sent two of the nurses to the hospital yesterday and three babies died. It is so distressing.

Miss Leslie Page is acting as housekeeper there. She is very clever and speaks French well.

I received a letter from Bastiano, one of our old club boys. After seeing me in the movie, he wrote to tell me that he too was a movie actor.

Hotel Brighton, Rue Rivoli, Paris, October 5, 1918.

To C. A. S.

Porter has arrived and is a joy to see, the first person I have met for over a year with any spontaneity or gayety left. His accounts of the Y. M. C. A. people on the steamer were most amusing, and he is quite delighted with the work to which he has been assigned. He is to be in charge of a Home Service Department of a hospital. He will come in close contact with the wounded and will be splendid for them I think. He is very nervous about the new job. Asks me ten times a day if I think he can do it. I tell him that most of the R. C. people are doing tasks they are not trained for----even the army is made up of recruits. So why shouldn't a lawyer cheer and comfort the wounded?

Diary: October 6, 1919.

Porter brought over a trunk full of packages and now is in despair over them as in many cases he has no addresses whatever and it is like hunting a needle in a haystack. Among other things he has a huge pair of leather boots for the Ricker boy. They are enormous and stiff, unbending. He wanted me to take charge of them but it was impossible as I have a tiny room; in fact, it is the maid's room of this apartment. I can't get my own things in it. He brought me five pounds of caramels, which are the biggest treat we have had. They keep so well that I am going to keep some for both Thanksgiving and Christmas. Many thanks for the maple sugar which I shall keep for Loyall as he loves it.

October 6, 1919.

To C. A. S.

I met a boy from Virginia who has been Farragut Hall's constant companion over here. He cannot say enough of Farragut's fighting qualities. Farragut was in command of a battalion which took possession of a town in Lorraine after the Germans evacuated it. To his great embarrassment the women rushed forward and covered him with kisses. He is the most modest fellow I ever saw. He told me that his name had been the source of much misery to him at Annapolis where the boys lashed him to the mast and made him recite pages of the Battle of Mobile Bay.

Our apartment is an attractive meeting place for the boys on leave. We supply them with cigarettes, tea, coffee and cake, when possible. My pretty girls are the real attraction. I am always hoping to see your Loyall.

Hotel Brighton, 18 Rue Rivoli, Paris, October 7, 1918.

To A. G.

This last has been such a full week that I simply do not know where to begin as I want to tell you all about it and I have not a free moment in which to do it. As you see by the heading I have changed my hotel which gives me for the present less time than ever in which to write as there are four of us here together, Helen Byrne, Rosamond Gilder and Polly Heurter, a very nice New York girl. We have a large sunny sitting room on the corner which overlooks the Tuilleries, and my bedroom looks into Porter's, who lives on the opposite side of the street Rue d'Alger.

I must go back a few days, as I know you will be interested in my trip to Marseilles and Dijon, and I try to write you a consecutive account of my doings as I keep no diary worth mentioning. I wrote you about Marseilles and the Settlement in the Roman ruin, did I not? It was one of the most natural and interesting Settlements I have ever seen. The archeologist who owns the ruins and who is excavating there all the time loves boys who simply swarm round the place. She has classes for them in designing, sends promising ones to the Beaux Arts, and I assure you is a genuine social worker without knowing it. She thinks she is just an archaeologist---a rare combination.

I stole a day from my work on Monday and went pleasuring with Miss Nelson, my head nurse from Lyons, who joined me there for a vacation of a few days. It is the first day except Sunday either of us had had off for over a year, so we enjoyed it. You will appreciate our pleasure when I tell you that we went for a sail on the Mediterranean. Coming back we enjoyed a glorious sunset and saw in the gloaming all the boats, both big and small, coming into the harbor for shelter. The camouflaged warcraft were most interesting and impressive. Airships circled over our heads. We visited the great docks, where thousands of tons are unloaded daily, many prisoners being used for this work, although our negro troops really do the bulk of it. I saw huge crates containing camouflaged tanks, tractors, pajamas, food, and heaven knows what. I thought of the possibility of some of that clothing which I saw landed on the dock on the shores of the Mediterranean being made by our "Sisters" in the room overlooking the Pacific. The efficiency which is displayed by our army in the unloading and transporting of this huge volume of freight astonishes everyone. I was most impressed by the rapidity and order in which it was all done. In ten days they built a spur road which the French assured them would take three months to build. I only wish when we did our work we did it as thoroughly as these people. They build for all time. One of our engineers told me that they found French engines made in 1860 still in perfect condition, each part has been so carefully attended to. They confine that care to machinery and animals, I think---not to hotels and children.

The country round about here reminded me so much of southern California, mountains, vineyards, olive trees, etc., all planted in sufficient quantity not to have that patchy look that most of the fields have in France, a hedge or wall around every one. It is interesting from an economic point of view, but disturbing to the eye.

Leslie Page arrived just at the critical moment when we needed help badly at the Pouponiere. (I shall call that the Crêche after this, it is such a long word.) We are just taking it over from French management of seventeen years. Leslie is acting as assistant manager for Mrs. Holzman, who is real manager. For instance, she stays there and sees that Mrs. Holzman's orders are carried out. Her French is invaluable at this juncture, and she can be a great help.

Paris, October 12, 1918.

To A. G.

Helen Byrne has just left for Toul to spend her vacation doing canteen work. I let her go with some misgivings, as I fear she will overdo, but the poor child longed so to go to the front that I had not the heart to refuse. She says she will not have the face to go home without ever having seen anything but Paris.

It reminds me of the man who is in charge of the coffee-roasting plant for the army. He is so distressed because his wife's letters are full of pleas to him to go to the front, as she is ashamed, when the neighbors ask her what her husband is doing in France, to say he is roasting coffee. He implores to be sent to the first line trenches, as his wife says he must get one of those medals everyone is talking about, and he cannot get one for roasting coffee. It is really pathetic.

Paris, October 13, 1918.

To L. McL

Dr. Farwell has been telling me such nice stories about our boys who are stationed at Corbeille, where she is working. They have no doctor attached to the camp and when anyone is ill they send for her. She gives them little lectures on how to keep well, to avoid grippe, etc., and they crowd around and open their hearts. The other day she sent one of the boys back with a large bottle of cascara, with instructions for every man's son of them to take a teaspoonful. The next day they all complained of feeling miserable so she gave each one a tablespoonful of castor oil.' It then developed that the boys had each taken a tablespoonful of cascara which accounted for their woebegone appearance. They each have pets among the children and steal food from the table to take to the children. One boy came to her complaining of a bad cough and wanted some medicine. She examined his lungs and told him there was absolutely nothing the matter with him. Then he confessed that the cough medicine he wanted was for an old man.

Porter was made captain before leaving for Perigueux. He was so pleased at the promotion.

It makes me heart sick to hear all the anti peace talk just for the satisfaction of revenge. Many are willing to prolong this horror. I feel that now that the Boche know that they are beaten that the sooner peace is declared the better. I don't want to sacrifice one man in revenge.

John Bakewell surprised me yesterday by appearing at church. I was awfully glad to see him. Friends from home are very welcome.

Paris, October 17, 1918.

To A. G.

All kinds of American mail is coming in and no letters from you which makes me feel very homesick. These are depressing times, although one sees the streaks of light on the horizon heralding peace.

But so many are ill and dying of pneumonia that an extra gloom is spread about us. Our dear little French stenographer has just had news of her husband's death at the front, and Dr. Farwell's husband, a major, was killed last week by one of those time explosive bombs, which exploded in a house some hours after the Americans had taken the village----a fiendish device.

Now that peace seems a possibility, the loss of life seems even more horrible, although I am sure we agree absolutely with the stand the President has taken. I only pray that the Allies will not take revenge after the Germans lay down their arms, but the feeling is terribly bitter.

Our Pouponiere is going well. We managed to nip the grippe epidemic in the bud; only lost three babies, which considering we found them in such a low state of vitality was very good.

Hotel Brighton, October 26, 1918.

To A. G.

This last week has been one of such mixed joy and sorrow.

Everyone I come in contact with is either grieving for some loved one or has a tale of such awfulness to tell that one can hardly bear it, but every morning the news of the victories gives us courage to go on, believing that the horrible night is nearly past; dawn is surely at hand. For the first time since we have been in France there are signs of rejoicing in Paris. The Concorde (Place of Peace) is filled with captured enemy cannon. Enemy aircraft are perched on the wall of the Tuileries garden overlooking the Place---a long line of them---and the statue of Lille is decorated with flags and garlands as only the French can do that kind of thing. They certainly have an eye for the dramatic and effective in decoration which we do not possess.

The Tuileries have been a blaze of light for two nights, a wonderful sight after the stygian blackness of the last four years. The moon is full and the Concorde is a never-to-be-forgotten sight with its great camouflaged cannon; banners floating from immense white poles which are surmounted by gold cocks; crowds of uniformed people surging in and out, and all lighted by mysterious blue lights aided in a fitful manner by the moon which disappears very frequently behind the clouds.

Today a triple ceremony takes place there: the initiation of a new loan, a celebration for the class of 1920 just called out---pray God they may never be needed,---and a gathering of the refugees from Lille at the base of the statue.

Roubaix has been taken, too, the home of Madame Gillet. Her mother has been held as a hostage since her old father's death. I am wondering whether the poor old woman was left in her home or carried off by her captors. That would be more than poor Madame Gillet could bear. She is such a lovely, fascinating woman and so able.

But to tell you a more cheerful story I will write you of Leslie's romantic adventure. Ever since she landed in France her one idea seems to be to see "Don." Don not being permitted to come to Paris, she did not know what to do, when last Sunday she heard the whirr of an airplane quite close to her room, and stepping out on the balcony saw Don sailing gaily by waving frantically at her.

I have been looking out for Hannah Hobart a little. Poor child, she went through a frightful experience. She had the entire care of ninety-six of our men in a French hospital for ten days, doing day and night duty. Many of the men died. After leaving the hospital she then proceeded to have bronchitis and was put to bed, which I think was the best thing for her.

Dorothy Sherman, the Doctor's niece, has just returned, having had a somewhat similar experience. The night she arrived at a French hospital with a nurse (they always go in pairs) she was given the care of forty-five of our officers. Three died that night. She gave thirty hypodermics and assisted at the most frightful dressings. She had been at that place three months when the nurse developed double pneumonia, and she took care of her night and day, keeping her alive by her devoted nursing. Just think of these young girls having such experiences. The nurses cannot say enough in their praise. Dorothy has been transferred to the Children's Bureau by special request, as she is much needed at a refugee home for children in the south near Bordeaux. I am glad she is going as I think the children will be good for her. She spent the night with me and seemed to enjoy being petted a little, poor child. I am going to try to get her off to England for Christmas where she has an aunt at present. She will have a well earned vacation due her by that time.

We were all very much excited yesterday by the arrival of Francesca Gilder and Anita Emmet, Bob Emmet's daughter. They had a terrible passage-1100 men on board, no doctor except the ship's doctor (French), and no nurses, four aides, and an epidemic of grippe. A number of the men died. We hear these ghastly tales daily.

Hotel Brighton, October 27, 1918.

To A. G.

Since dawn I have been struggling to write letters, but the number of guests have been too great for me. We are always taking in stray people as we have an extra bed in Helen's room which I occupy in an emergency. People are constantly arriving in Paris and finding themselves bedless for the night as the hotels are so crowded.

I did not get off to Toulouse after all; I could not leave the office, everyone being ill I have finally been put in charge of all the civilian nurses, tubercular and refugee as well as children. It does not mean much, but simplifies matters.

You ask me about all these different societies. I think that terrible to think that we are forced to have such dreadful feelings of enmity towards our fellow creatures. This is a poor kind of letter to write on Sunday, but at times indignation is so uppermost in the mind that all other thoughts seem to be excluded. Think of the feelings of those mothers of Lille when their children were taken from them just as rescue was at hand.

We are very much interested in the Czecho-Slavs. It seems that Wilson has always been deeply interested in them and wrote a pamphlet on the subject twenty years ago. They have great confidence in his friendship for them.

Paris, November 7, 1918.

To A. G.

News that the armistice with Germany has been signed has just reached us, and I can think of nothing else. My one thought is that the killing has stopped. We have been hearing such frightful tales of the slaughter of our men these last few bitter weeks that I have shuddered to think of it.

Yesterday a letter which I enclose came from Loyall. He evidently was badly burned but it was the first I heard of it. I cabled his mother. So far all of our very own boys seem to be safe. How fortunate we have been. We have so much to be thankful for.

Our men have been so splendid. We have every cause to be proud of them. Just think, the only criticism made is that they are "too brave." Although this rushing ahead has cost many lives, I believe it has saved many, as there has been a grim determination about them from the beginning that has been very impressive.

The French take the end much more quietly than I thought they would. They have suffered too deeply to rejoice.

Hotel Brighton, Paris, November 10, 1918.

To A. G.

Last night I was awakened from a sound sleep by the sound of rejoicing, horns blowing, people shouting, and sounds of general hilarity. It was not until this morning that I knew that the Kaiser had abdicated. People are much more excited and interested over it than they are over the near prospect of hostilities ceasing. Wilson was a good prophet. I remember when he first suggested that before we could discuss terms of peace with Germany they must get rid of the Kaiser, the majority laughed at him. I can not understand this last election. Does it mean a lack of confidence in Wilson or just a reproof to him for trying to influence the vote? It certainly would be a national calamity now if Roosevelt's influence predominated. We need more than ever the leadership of a statesman, and Wilson is that above all men. I feel very much disturbed over the situation, more worried over our part in the peace conferences than I ever felt over our part in the war, as I knew our people would rise to that emergency. Do write me what you think about it.

It seems to me that I have never heard so many tragic tales since coming to France as I have had this last week. If I did not have some private funds to draw on I really do not know what I should do. As you know, I am very much interested in a little English nurse who has devoted her life to the blind poilus at the Val de Grace since the beginning. She is very poor but has never received a cent for her service. Whenever she has a very appealing case she comes to me, and so far, thanks to the generosity of my friends I have not been obliged to refuse. She brought with her last week the French doctor who takes the most loving care of these men. One of them has developed T. B. His wife also is infected. They have two little children, and the doctor's gratitude was so touching for the assistance we promised him in the care of the children to save them, that both Helen and I were reduced to tears.

We had an appeal for work from one of the loveliest and noblest looking women I ever saw. She was taken prisoner at the same time as Edith Cavell and condemned to death. She was to be shot the next morning, but was reprieved through the intervention of our consul, who succeeded because she was with child. Her baby was born in prison where she remained for fourteen months. She was finally repatriated, but has never heard of the fate of her husband who was taken prisoner at the same time. Fortunately I was able to place her in one of our hospitals.

I wonder if I have ever explained to you the French system of nursing---it is so strange. There are two distinct classes of nurses in their hospitals. The so-called trained nurses, who have had experience in hospitals before the war, are mostly a very undesirable class of women from a moral standpoint. They receive pay but it is very little---not twenty dollars per month. Their nursing is supplemented by that of ladies who never receive a cent of pay, and are even often called upon to help meet certain expenses, such as the wages of the ward maids. No attempt is made to do night nursing as I have written you before. I will enclose an extract from a French nurse who was trained at the Presbyterian Hospital. You can imagine how she suffered.

Porter is hard at work in a hospital, and I hear very happy in his work, as I get accounts of him from various people whom he sends to me, but he never writes a line.

We are struggling hard to put our Paris work on a permanent basis. One of our French workers is deeply interested in the Settlement idea. She spent some years in America and ever since has longed to teach the children how to play. They really do not know how. A well brought up French child comes home from school at 4 p. m., practises or sews till 6 p. m., has supper, studies again till bedtime. I know I have told you this half a dozen times, but I cannot get used to it. We have succeeded in introducing the playground at Lyons. It may spread from there all over France, but I doubt it; things do not spread in France. The children are so dear, too. I never say more lovable children. Can you imagine the six little Griffiths or Betty and Millen solemnly parading the streets for four hours every Sunday afternoon? I think every child in France does that. It makes me feel sad to see them. Now the boys break loose and straddle the captive guns displayed along the Champs Elysees.

We hear terrible tales of the grippe epidemic at home; it seems to be even worse there than here although many have died. Mr. Bothin wrote offering me all the land I needed for my farming project, but it looks now as if the government would establish its own schools on a large scale, and that the men would not be discharged from the army until they could support themselves.'

We all rejoiced prematurely the other day as it was very currently reported that the armistice had been signed. It was even announced at the military school at St. Cyr, where Geoff is at present, to Mme. Gotz' delight. He is not a bit well; has constant attacks of fever, malaria contracted at Saloniki. I took Mme Gotz four pounds of sugar the other day and she was as pleased as a child. Only one pound a month can be bought except at the commissary, where you can buy two pounds at a time.

I think Hannah Hobart has made the best record of any aide over here. Margaret Robins has done awfully well too. In fact, that first group of aides that I trained have done wonderfully well in the military hospitals. I am very proud of them.

Mr. Bicknell has taken Mr. Folks' place, and Mr. Kingsbury is going home. I do not know what the programme is for the future, but Mr. Bicknell is conscientious and will be faithful to his trust, which is everything.

I am thinking again of going to Italy for a vacation. I cannot bear the thought of leaving now until something definite is decided. We hope for news tomorrow. I am wondering when I should begin writing Christmas letters. The mails are so uncertain, and at the same time sometimes they go through very quickly.

Monday.

The news of the Kaiser's flight to Holland has just come. Long after midnight I could hear the shouts of joy and the Marsellaise from the streets. Everyone is buying big flags. It will be a wonderful sight when the official announcement comes that the guns have ceased firing. These poor old kings---how they are running to cover. I have no doubt they will be as relieved to get out of the way as the world is glad to get rid of them. It really is such a stupid idea to have people inherit the right to rule their fellow men. This abdication of the Kaiser had ended a long argument Dr. L. and I have been having over the retreat of the German army. He has contended that it was just a deep laid plot to fool the Allies, and I have maintained that it was a forced retreat because they were whipped and knew it. I bet that before Christmas they would be on their knees to us. I did not think it would be before Thanksgiving. I only fear the peace terms will be so severe that they will refuse them at first, which would prolong the killing, which I cannot bear to think of. The attitude of mind of those who lose their loved ones now is very different from that which it was even a month ago. Now they cannot be consoled, because they feel that it might be stopped. My poor little stenographer is quite broken hearted. Her husband fought four years and has been killed with victory in sight.

Paris, November 13, 1918.

To L. McL.

You have been much in my mind these last two days, knowing your real carnival spirit.

On Monday at 11:30 a. m. when the sound of cannon boomed the joyful news that the longed for peace had come, it took Dr. Lucas and me about two minutes to descend from the fifth floor to the square below where already boys were decorating the spirited equestrian statue of Joan of Arc which faces our windows. The French seemed stunned at first---they couldn't in a minute throw off these four years of horror and grief. But the Red Cross turned out strong, a drum appeared from somewhere, I produced my flag which is a beauty, an equally large French one was found, a poilu mounted the statue and in a moment a mad crowd was singing the Marsellaise. So many people were crying that it was a little difficult. Then a procession formed. The drummer, our most staid and dignified Red Cross worker, led, followed by the French, British and our flag. If you could have seen me marching between a Tommy and a wounded poilu, the latter helping me carry the flag with his good arm. A French boy scout carried the French flag. The whole of Paris seemed to join in the parade. You never saw anything like it. We marched up the rue des Pyramides, rue de la Paix, circled round the Vendome to the Opera and finally ended up before the Ministry of War, a howling mob shouting "Clemenceau." My cape was flying wildly with its red lining. A boy rushed up to me saying, "Cover it, it is the color of revolution."

By the time we disbanded it was 1 p. m., and after getting some lunch in the neighborhood I tried to get back to the office but it was quite impossible. My flag attracted so much attention that I was forced into every parade I met. I marched with our marines all in and out of the guns on the Place de la Concorde, headed a procession of usine workers who insisted upon shoving me up to the very front, got complicated with a body of Alsacians, who marched singing the Marsellaise, to lay their homage at the foot of the statue which is a mass of flowers. Well, it is impossible to describe it all, you can easily imagine. But in spite of all the noise and commotion there was an indescribable sadness which penetrated everywhere. Families brought again face to face with their great losses, which even victory for the cause for which their sons had died for the moment was forgotten. They were overwhelmed by sorrow. We dined in a cafe that night where some happy American boys whooped things up. A Frenchman sitting near me with his wife kept murmuring, "C'est au fond du coeur." At 9:30 we wormed our way through the masses of humanity in the Place de l'Opera and heard the Marsellaise sung from the balcony by a woman with a wonderful voice, the crowd singing the chorus. That was a never-to-be-forgotten experience. There was something so solemn and profound in the scene. No bright light yet, but a clear moon, the first I have seen in France which did not say to you, "Get under cover, the Boche will come.' We came home after that. Street hilarity didn't fit in.

Paris, November 13, 1918.

To L. McL.

It took almost twenty-four hours to bring this town to fever pitch, but I assure you it was a very "pitchy pitch" when it arrived. We spent a night of wild hilarity. I have never had such an exciting time. A young American officer, who is with the French army, engaged a table for us at one of the gayest cafes in Paris, on the Rue de la Paix. He had the table decorated, provided bon bons and sparklers, which made a great hit lighted at the top of a small American flag, which I waved frantically, standing on top of the table part of the time. You cannot imagine anything more exciting. Opera singers bursting into song, our boys perched on impossible heights waving huge flags, people from the streets snaking in and out between the tables, and no one really drunk---just wildly gay. The noise was terrific. The combination of French and American methods of showing joy and all being hilarious produced something unique. The French kiss each other so much. Men kept falling upon the necks of other men and kissing violently. After dinner, we followed the crowds in the streets. All kinds of independent processions, all singing the Marsellaise. The crowds don't know how to have the really good times we have at home---no confetti, very little dancing, but lots of kissing and singing. People came up to us all the time to say the victory is "Grace aux Americains." It is most touching. The appreciation is very deep and sincere.

Paris, November 17, 1918.

To A. G.

Have you read Wells "Joan and Peter"? I found it very interesting. If the education of Peter typifies the education of the race, there is hope for England, otherwise not. To me it is quite remarkable that Wells, one of them, sitting there in their midst, should have such a clear vision. If there is to be any kind of League of Nations which will insure permanent peace, we must all look upon each other as equals; no one nation assume an air of superiority. It has certainly been shown that they are all equally brave; some of the bravest single deeds in our army were performed by boys of foreign birth---Italians, Russians, Jewish, etc. America is itself really a League of Nations. We have shown what strength there is in the unity of many different peoples. How absorbingly interesting the world is. The problems of peace are to be worked out here so soon in the building where we worked so long over the problems of the persecuted war child---4 Place de la Concorde. How eagerly one will look for the morning papers. Let us pray that the Council will be pervaded with the spirit of truth, equity, justice and humanity.

Paris, November 22, 1918.

To L. McL.

A Merry Christmas to you. Please spend the enclosed check on something not too practical---don't buy a fireless cooker. Have you a pretty vase or jar for flowers? Get a flowering plant if you are not already over-supplied. I do like to think of you surrounded by pretty, cheerful things. So glad you have made your temporary quarters attractive.

I have been in bed a week---the longest siege I have ever had of it---grippe I suppose. Temperature 104. Dr. Brown has been taking the best of care of me---calls twice a day, most attentive. It has meant a lot as he has climbed up four flights of stairs, the elevator being out of order, but he has insisted that one of my lungs is not right and watches it like a cat. He has been away for two days now but I have obeyed orders and stayed in bed although I have had no temperature. But to tell you the truth, it has been a real treat to me these last three days to be away from everyone, visitors being prohibited. Never in my life before have I had such a quiet restful time. You know being sick at the Settlement was a hectic affair.

I wish you could hear the boys tell of the last hour at the front just before Metz. The Germans had the news first. They suddenly ceased firing and began to show themselves. Our men wanted to make right for them, but their officers restrained them, saying, "Something must be up." Well, they all waited half an hour in suspense. Then the news came and everyone went wild. The Germans sent up rockets and their bands played. It was a time for general rejoicing for both sides.

It looks to me as if our work will finish here soon, although we are all asked not to go home for six months. We can all, with hearts full of thankfulness, celebrate the Christmas peace.

Paris, December 8, 1918.

To A. G.

We have had such a family excitement this week that everything else for the time being has been lost sight of. Helen received a cable, or two cables rather, one from her mother and the other from Mr. Armstrong, her fiancee, saying that he would sail immediately for France, that he had been appointed military attaché at the court of Serbia, and arranging for their marriage upon his arrival in Paris. Of course her happiness and excitement have carried all before it. She is such a dear child and I am so happy for her. She has been my daily companion for almost eighteen months. I shall miss her fearfully as I did when she was ill in the spring. She is so companionable, intelligent and sweet.

I have Frances Webster back as my secretary, as Helen will be too busy these next two weeks to be of much use to me. She has already commenced to buy her trousseau. To show you how the styles go, Helen was shown a model which was identical with one she got two years ago. It seems strange suddenly to be precipitated from battle, murder, and sudden death into a wedding, and to be discussing clothes, the wedding breakfast, place for the honeymoon, and all the thousand incidental details. Fortunately her father is in Rome, so he can be here and decide many matters. She has bought books on Serbia, which we are studying at intervals.

Another incident of the week has been the arrival of shiploads of Red Cross workers who have been sent here since Nov. 11th. Nurses and aides are pouring in by the hundreds. We cannot even find a place for them to sleep. Knowing the need of nurses at home, it makes both them and us heart sick.

Our work is progressing better, as we have plenty of nurses. I am using as many as possible. We have a travelling unit in the Chateau Thierry district---the situation is dreadful there; so heart-rending that one of the nurses wept for hours after her return from rounds of the villages. Still the Red Cross, with this exception, is not sending any help into these regions. I do not understand it. The A. F. F. W. is withdrawing too.

Letters from home came last night. I long to be with you in this grippe epidemic. I do trust the worst is over by this time. I am wondering if it has taken any of my old friends.

You wrote of the type of peace celebration in San Francisco. I assure you it was the same kind of thing here, and more so in England, where it was very rowdy and rough. For the first few hours here people seemed stunned, and after that a noisy street carnival was on for two days, so I suppose human nature is the same all the world over.

I saw King Albert and Foch in the parade, much to my delight. The former is a splendid looking fellow, quite the king of romance.

Paris, December 1, 1918.

To A. G.

If the League of Nations is to become a living reality, a mutual sympathy and understanding must be established. Miss McDowell told me of a wonderful old Belgian she has met who has always dreamed of this League. The night Antwerp was being bombarded he nearly lost his mind through anxiety. He turned to his wife and said, "I must work or I cannot bear it." He settled himself down right then and there and wrote out a charter for a League of Nations. Did not that show a wonderful spirit?

I have been back at work now for most of the week, felt a little wobbly at first, but am quite well now. Mr. Knox, who passed through on his way to England, discouraged me from going to Rome until I was quite well, as he says it is very cold. Coal is $150.00 a ton. Is not that fearful? I may go by the end of the month---may spend Christmas there. Dr. Brown left for home today; you will probably see him soon, and hear all about me. He was kindness itself to me. I shall never forget it.

Everyone is so restless and upset that I feel it most important to hang on and put in some good work in these last months. Dr. Ladd has done a fine piece of work at Bordeaux in persuading a combination of French societies to start a Visiting Nurse Association, under the direction of one of our nurses, a very capable woman who has been in Bordeaux for some time and gained their confidence. The work is to be done by senior nurses from two hospitals there, the only good training schools in France. Our course is going on well here; we have a very fine intelligent lot of pupils, and I feel sure that they must have an influence after we leave. I wonder if the Friends of France would be interested in giving scholarships to a group of twenty selected women to go to America to be trained for nursing and social work. The time they would need there would vary according to the training they have had here. Miss Maxwell would be willing to take them and credit them with time according to my judgment. We have succeeded in rousing deep interest in a number of very intelligent, eager women, but I fear it will end there if an effort is not made to give further help.

No letter from you this week. Barbara wrote me a sweet letter with dear enclosures from the children. Each and everyone gave a minute description of the new house---castle they call it---for convalescent women, but as yet I do not know its situation.

Paris, December 13, 1918.

To A. G.

The first time since I have been ill, I am awake this morning at 5:30, so I feel as if I had at last resumed my normal life. I got into the bad habit of lying awake at night for hours, and then sleeping until 7 a. m., which was a fearful waste of time.

It has been raining for weeks, which makes it difficult to recover from colds as one is never dry.

You write of Will's disappointment when the Armistice was signed. The military certainly does make a strong appeal to the young. I have heard so many men express the deepest regret that the war has ended before they had a chance to kill. They don't put it just that way. Many of them fool themselves by thinking they want to fight for freedom, justice, etc., but in reality they love fighting for its own sake. It is the animal in them. Peace conferences will never bring about a world without war. Human nature will have to be refined and educated first. Our next generation will be fed on the deeds of valor of this, and they will long for war that they too may have an opportunity of showing their bravery.

Wilson arrives tomorrow, and, from being the ideal of these people, may easily become the most unpopular of men, as I doubt if the world is ready for his great message---at least the politicians are not. The working people here have been having mass meetings in his honor to express their gratitude and appreciation of his stand to promote peace through the League of Nations. They pass all kinds of resolutions of appreciation, nearly all of which include this phrase, "President Wilson a bien merite de l'humanite." Think of having that said of you, and having it carved in bronze on tablets hung in the high courts of the world! I really tremble for him; not that the individual appeals to me, but I think it is so bad for the people to have an ideal shattered, and he, at present, stands for their ideal of right and justice. This all seems strange when I hear that he is much discredited at home, but "The prophet in his own country---." We must all remember what opposition there was to Lincoln, and I feel that it was by the same class of people who oppose Wilson now, although most of them are at present Lincoln worshipers. I feel that he has a world vision and imagination, and that his mistakes all seem trivial weighed in the balance with his great message to humanity.

Miss Kittridge tells me that Miss Jane Addams is coming over. Miss Lathrop is coming too. I was surprised when she told me that Miss Addams was not on Ford's peace ship. Miss Kittridge was on the ship.

Paris, December 15, 1918.

To A. G.

I am off for Chateau Thierry in the morning. It is the first time I have left Paris for weeks. It will be such a relief to get out of the office. I did a good day's work today in rescuing a settlement on Rue Clavel from destruction. It was a real homey little place which we have organized and run since we have been here. So we will leave behind us a perfectly good settlement in French hands. We have a dispensary, three visiting nurses (two French), three kindergartners (French training) and two residents. It is a most attractive place. They wanted to close it because the doctor in charge insisted upon treating the entire neighborhood and wouldn't confine himself to babies under six months.

Paris, December 15, 1918.

To C. L.

Saturday was the day I wished for you. The President arrived and a general holiday being proclaimed, we all turned out to do honor to him. I really believe that every man, woman and child in Paris was on the streets. I have never seen such a mob. We started out at 8:30 to find a place but were too late although he wasn't to arrive in Paris until 10 a. m. We finally had to pay $1.00 apiece for chairs to stand on. But it was worth it as I got a good look at Clemenceau, Foch and Pershing, as well as Wilson, who of course was received with the greatest enthusiasm. He made an awfully good impression, as everyone expected him to look very stern and forbidding, whereas he has a very gracious smile and seemed so genuinely pleased at his reception that the crowd was enchanted. The streets are beautifully decorated---every street in Paris. The effect of the flags on the narrow streets is especially lovely as they almost touch across the street. I wish you could see what the papers have to say about Wilson. They hail him as a prophet. One writes, "Moses himself when he descended from Mount Sinai was not watched with more passionate curiosity---never was the word of a monarch awaited with a like emotion." It seems almost impossible that he live up to this exalted idea these people have of him. It seemed in the past that nothing but martyrdom preserved a man's reputation. Sunday afternoon Wilson attended the military service at the Episcopal church. I wish you could have heard that packed church full of people sing the Battle Hymn of the Republic. It was the most inspiring thing I ever heard. A military band played the accompaniment and even the Star Spangled Banner was sung with fervor. The Bishop of Georgia preached a wonderful sermon---the best I have heard since I have been here, although it seems as if a Bishop preached every time I went to church. The church was so full of men that I was relieved to hear preached a sermon of practical Christianity, instead of doctrine which seems to be the strong point with most of the men I have heard.

Yesterday I went to Corbeille to a function given in honor of a friend of mine---one of the women doctors who has worked there for months and made a wonderful record, as she took the babies all through the grippe epidemic without losing a case. All the high dignitaries were there---two mayors, the prefect and others. They made all kinds of speeches and presented all kinds of medals. She deserved every bit of it and I was glad for her. She is the first one of our doctors to be decorated.

It is the most amusing thing to read the home papers which we get about two weeks late. The wise predictions which are made on events which are a matter of the past by the time we get the papers are most interesting reading. It is wonderful how seldom they hit the nail on the head. The press seems to view everything from a distorted point of view; the supposedly good papers, as well as the yellow journals. For instance they all wrote that Germany's proposal for an armistice was just a deep laid Hun plot to strengthen her lines.

Neuilly St. Front, December 22, 1918.

To A. G.

You can imagine with what emotion I went over the battlefields today in the region of Chateau Thierry, where our boys fought so valiantly and at such great loss at Jouy---the battle which saved Paris and perhaps France from defeat. I saw the fatal Ballieu woods which are covered with graves, and a little cemetery at the side of the road beautifully cared for by the French, I imagine. Each grave has its cross, on which is tacked the identification disc, and a large circular piece of cardboard disc on which is an American flag encircled by a wreath of laurel. I am enclosing you a pansy which I picked there---the graves were all planted. There is a French society which cares for American graves. People apply for the number they wish and have special graves put in their care.

Yesterday we went to Soissons and saw the cathedral which is utterly and hopelessly destroyed, nothing left to tell the tale of its grandeur but one noble arch over the nave, and the front wall on which still hangs a large canvas of the Last Supper, and over the entrance door a huge crucifix from whence Christ looks in the uncertain light of the ruins as if he were struggling to come to the help of the agonized world.

We visited a tragic little war victim, where he lives in his shattered home horribly burned by an exploding shell, both legs from the ankles to the thigh. Ambrine is doing wonders for him. I saw it applied for the first time. I am full of enthusiasm for it. The taking off of this huge dressing was a painless process, and beneath it was perfectly clean. Absorbent cotton soaked in saline solution was laid over the burn for about five minutes before the fresh Ambrine was applied, which was painted on with a soft brush, the surface having been first dried slightly by absorbent cotton. The parafine substance hardens as soon as it cools, leaving a thin skin over the wound; this is covered by absorbent cotton, kept on with bandages. You may be using this, probably are, but I thought I would write of it in detail. It is said to be very good for those old leg ulcers.

Our dispensary and visiting nursing closes on January 1st, much to the regret of everyone, but I understand that the French will undertake it themselves then. It is a pity our nurses cannot be used up to the last minute before their return, as now dozens are hanging about Paris waiting to get off, paying exorbitant prices in the hotels, whereas they are sadly needed in this devastated home district. We have succeeded in establishing a good school for visiting nursing at Bordeaux, which I hope will bring forth fruits for France.

Although I have seen villages more wrecked than those I have been through these past two days, none have affected me so deeply, as this was the land our boys fought over. It was here their young lives were sacrificed for future freedom. I received the poor wrecked remnants of those heroic regiments at the hospital at Neuilly, fresh from the battlefield, and heard the tale from the lips of boys still too exalted to be exhausted in spite of their loss of blood and lack of food, which many had not tasted for three or four days. It already, in the rush of subsequent events, had become a horrid nightmare, but it all again was a living reality as I stood by the wrecked bridge, saw the fatal wood which they crawled through under terrific fire, and saw the forest of crosses which tell their tragic tale in that shattered forest. Will the world forget it all in less than a decade and go on its selfish way just as it did after the Civil War and all the other great wars in history? Will the survivors of this heroic struggle have to fight equally hard to live and earn their daily bread in this world they have supposedly made free? It is a fearful problem and one which I think will have to be faced without delay if this war is not to be followed by internal bloodshed and revolution in every country engaged in it. The horror of taking human life has passed away from men. They contemplate death very calmly, and many have been brooding through the long watches of the night of the injustice of life. The man who has stayed at home and accumulated a gigantic fortune will be less acceptable than ever in their eyes; a day of reckoning will come. I, with you, feel much fear and unrest for the future. I fear we have not a life of tranquil peace in which to spend our last quarter century if we live so long. I do hope that every possible effort will be made to get our men home as quickly as possible, for this life of inactivity must be most demoralizing.

I have so many dreams of what we might do and then I think of the miserable support we get for our work, and I feel all discouraged. The money that is wasted over here in any one department would put us on our feet.

It is very amusing to see the changed point of view the nurses and aides have on the subject of personal cleanliness since they have been living in conditions where to be clean was a difficult matter, and some of them were so badly off that they had to wash in the sink where the pots, pans and dishes were washed. Many of them have been for months without even a sponge bath---girls who have always thought the daily bath a necessity,---their excuse being lack of warm water and lack of privacy. I think it has greatly enlarged their understanding and sympathies. They tell me that their first thought always was to keep warm if possible. Although I have sat much of my time at my desk I have heard a lot and seen character develop under my eyes.

Mary Eyre told me she had such a small pitcher of hot water every day that she kept a calendar of the parts she washed. It took one week to get around.

December 27, 1918.

To C. A. S.

Last week I visited Chateau Thierry where the marines fought so well, Soissons and Bellieu Woods. The villages in the vicinity are wrecked. It was sad to see the boys' graves so far from home. There is a society here of French women who take care of American graves. More people have applied for the privilege of caring for graves in the Paris graveyard than there are graves. How much we have to be thankful for, that not one of the six boys from our family over here were wounded. It is wonderful.

I hope you had Arthur with you at Christmas. Does he think of remaining in the Navy?

Paris, December 29, 1918.

To A.G.

I dined with Margaret and Hannah last night. The former is going to Serbia in the clerical department-has signed up for another eight months. Hannah is just as attractive as ever, even more so. She has lost nothing of that fresh enthusiasm, and is prettier than I have ever seen her, having lost many pounds from the strenuous work she is doing. She says she was too fat at first to crawl under her car; now does so without trouble.

I hear that Helen Cheseborough has done so well that she has been given charge of the big new canteen to organize. Our California girls certainly have done well. I hear that Sarah Cunningham is a wonder and that Maizie Langhorne has done splendidly as her assistant.

January 3, 1919.

To L. McL.

Enclosed you will find my report on the number of nurses used in our service:

Paris, January 5, 1919.

To A. G.

Dr. Lucas motored off to Germany yesterday at a moment's notice---just disappeared into space. I have had such a happy time with Porter, who has discovered the delight of service. He is so enthusiastic about. his work and I 'think must be making a success of it. He says he never worked so hard in his life. He has two big hospitals under him.. He has made friends with a number of French families in the town, and the grandmothers and children give him a very cordial welcome. He thought of many nice things for the men at Christmas and enjoys talking to the men and "jollying them up," as he says.

NURSING REPORT OF THE TUBERCULOSIS BUREAU

January 3, 1919.

The reorganization of the Red Cross in August, 1918, which incorporated all of the medical services under one head, enabled the Chief Nurse to appoint me as Director of the Civil Nurses which appointment did much to solve the problems of the four departments of Civil nurses. The interchange of nurses became greatly facilitated, their transference to where they were most needed being more easily accomplished. Before this readjustment of the service one institution could be overstaffed while in another, in the same district, the nurses might be doing double duty and no speedy transfer possible.

At the end of December Dr. White asked to have an American Chief Nurse appointed to his department. This situation was a very difficult one to straighten out, as it was quite evident by this time that the A. R. C. nurses would have to instruct the French women, but, as no request had been made for nurses specially trained in the care of tuberculosis, Washington was not prepared to meet the demand immediately. Nurses who had been carefully chosen and sent over to do Public Health work were pressed into this service, with indifferent results, as the work of the Tuberculosis Bureau was entirely confined to the institutional care of patients.

Miss Shackford, who was appointed Chief Nurse in December, struggled courageously for several months against great odds.

Her health finally broke down and after a number of weeks in the hospital, she finally returned to America. Her successor was appointed in May, 1918. She found the various sanatoriums and preventoriums in such a desperately unsatisfactory state and the difficulties of adjustment so great, that she resigned in October in despair.

This department also suffered very much from the sudden withdrawal of nurses for military duty. The staff of American nurses was so small that their withdrawal here was felt more than it was in the institutions which were better organized.

On October 24th, Miss Crawford was appointed Chief Nurse to work directly under the Director of Civil Nurses. Miss Crawford has accomplished much in a short time. Now that the tuberculosis institutions are about to close, the nursing service is in better condition than it has been at any time; the standards are higher and the discipline greatly improved. For details of the various institutions see Tuberculosis Report.

Paris, January 8, 1919.

To A. G.

I fear if I do not get a letter off to you today, it will not reach you in time for your birthday. I am getting more homesick every day but I must stick it out. It would not be fair to the work to abandon it in its dying throes. Lucia says that she supposes I will be going on to Serbia or other parts now, but I think there is small probability of my taking up other work. Many nurses from here are eager to go on who have no responsibilities at home. Helen has returned from her honeymoon and is busy getting off to Serbia. My new secretary, Miss Dale, from Philadelphia, is a very nice girl. I have known her ever since I have been in France. She and Miss Bears live together.

You must send me a copy of my book. It is so exciting to have written a book and not know it. Camilla says it makes her feel less lonely, so it has not been printed in vain. Rosamond says to have written a book and never to have seen it is like giving birth to a child and having it taken from the room immediately without knowing whether it is a boy or a girl.

We have just heard of Roosevelt's death. I have no doubt that sorrow and anxiety over his boys hastened his end.

Paris, January 8, 1919.

To L. K. S.

A fine Christmas letter came from you in New Year's week and the same day brought me a visit from dear old Jack who looked well. He was just passing through Paris and could not stay, so I only had a glimpse of him but it certainly was a pleasure.

I had a splendid visit from Porter who arrived on January 1st. He is so deeply interested in his work that he only stayed in Paris a few days although he could have been here a week. He gave the men a wonderful Christmas and enjoyed it as much as they did, I am sure. He has charge of two large hospitals---three thousand patients. He has to organize all kinds of recreation for the men as well as get the life history from each. I am so glad he finds his work so satisfactory. So many are disappointed, but my experience here is that people can make or mar their work. Nothing goes right sometimes because they cannot put it through.

My work has been quite upset by the marriage of my invaluable secretary, who goes to Serbia in a few days. She is a wonderful girl---took the time in the midst of her wedding preparations to get off huge boxes of gifts to her French battery. She looks out for 125 men besides dressing dolls for her French orphans. She dressed some for me, too, for Alice's children.

You write as if you expected me to follow the Red Cross flag to the end of my days, whereas the truth is I have no idea of re-enlisting after my service here is ended. I feel that I can do equally good work at home and there are hundreds eager for this service who have no other claims upon their time and service. I hope to be at home before the end of the summer, but times are uncertain now.

Paris, January 15, 1919.

To L. McL.

I should not be writing to you this morning as I have a very important report to get out at two day's notice ---a summary of what we have accomplished in eighteen months. This was sprung on me yesterday but in spite of it I must tell you of my trip to Rheims last Sunday.

On Saturday I went to a little village where I spent the night in a house which is more or less of a ruin, having been shelled. There are some habitable rooms upstairs where our staff lives, a doctor and two nurses, and the downstairs part is used for a dispensary. With this as a basis, visits are made through the surrounding country, all of the villages being partly in ruins.

This is the only devastated district in France where the Red Cross continues to give medical help. Why I don't know, as it is badly needed, but the policy of that organization is a mystery to me. No explanation is given of the situation, but there must be some good reason for this seemingly irrational action of withdrawing all our help at such a critical time.

The French major in command of the troops here is so grateful for what we are doing that he will do anything for the staff. He put his car at our disposal for the day, so we motored to Rheims, a forty-mile drive through that country between Chateau Thierry and Rheims, every inch of which was fought over by our men. Many crosses are seen by the wayside, indicating graves. A priest at Neuilly has buried in his garden a Frenchman, a German, a Scott, an Englishman, an American, side by side. He takes special care of the American grave, "The poor boy," he says, "whose home was so far over the seas." The villages look pretty much as San Francisco did after the fire---crumbled stone instead of brick.

The Rheims Cathedral is majestic beyond words in its martyrdom, and is still wonderfully beautiful. The facade is horribly damaged but not destroyed, and the columns are intact and the rose window is safe in Paris. Here also a Christ hangs from his crucifix looking as if he were struggling to descend from his cross to rescue his people. The effect is almost supernatural. Great holes are rent in the roof, reminding one of the verse, "The temple was rent in twain." It was the most impressive sight I have seen in this tragic country. One has such a perfectly helpless feeling before such destruction. You can imagine these villages being rebuilt even better than before, but you know that this age of commerce will never be able to reproduce that sublime structure in which was expressed the soul of centuries long gone by. There is nothing to do now but stand and weep.

We returned in the afternoon in time for the nurses to make their Sunday rounds. One little girl is dying from the result of shell shock in 1914. She has been fading away ever since. I think she could have been saved had she been immediately removed from that region, but there were no nurses nor doctors to care for the people until we came on the scene. One little boy burnt by bomb explosion is doing well under ambrine treatment.

Paris, February 9, 1919.

To A. G.

If my hands are not too cold to hold the pen, you shall have a letter this morning. I returned from Lille last night, but it was so cold and I was so tired from a ten hours' trip, that I went to bed instead of writing as I wished. I went to Lille on Tuesday with Miss Kitredge. We left at noon, arriving at 10:30 at night. Our trip was through one long waste of devastated country---wrecked towns, just skeletons standing, or in some places completely leveled; woods with not one tree left standing, all shot to pieces; miles of barbed wire entanglements; dugouts; the remains of railway completely destroyed; wrecked airplanes and tanks, and in the midst of it all, scattered through the whole land, one can see every little while a lonely cross, telling its tale of horror and sorrow in some far off home, it may be in New Zealand, Australia or Canada.

Lille itself is not so badly damaged, about one-tenth destroyed. The Germans evidently expected to keep the place. They finished the handsome theater, which was in course of construction, inserted a brass plate in the Kaiser's box with his name and coat-of-arms on it. Before leaving they took everything of the slightest value; for instance, there is not a bit of brass left anywhere---hardly a house in the town has a door knob left.

It is bitterly cold now, everything frozen, snow deep. The prisoners are made to keep the streets clear of ice, which they do by using picks, as the ice is as hard as rock on the streets and sidewalks. The natives of Lille take great satisfaction in watching them at this work, in their hideous green suits, which are enough in themselves to humble a man's spirit. You know they are the worn-out clothes of the Allies dyed that color. A woman turned to me and said as she watched them, "Look at them, they who were once so proud."

The situation in Northern France is indeed still a most tragic one; practically nothing so far has been done to relieve the distress. Up to now it has been somewhat bearable as we have had a very mild winter, but now the people are perishing from cold. Refugees are travelling on foot all over that devastated country, trying to get back to their destroyed homes. Everyone tells tales of the poor wretches they pick up on the road and take them for a few miles. The trains are so over-crowded that they can barely get standing room. You see no road has been rebuilt since the armistice and few trains run. The Belgians are wild to get back, and fight to get on the trains, which are always hours late. Some kind of shelter and canteens should be established at the stations for these poor creatures, who sometimes have to wait ten hours for the trains. The night before some nurses, who were also waiting, told me it was the most pitiful sight imaginable to see the suffering; one woman became unconscious from cold, and then when the train arrived at 4 a. in., they could not all get on. It was the train for Brussels.

It is really useless to write you all these horrors, as you cannot help, in fact we all seem to be in shackles; at least we were, but I see a little light ahead. We have at least been given leave to feed and nurse the children between the ages of six and sixteen. Heaven help the babes! But I suppose if these older ones get a good hearty meal, more will be left for the others in the family, both big and small.

But I must tell you of our efforts. When Miss Kitredge and I arrived we found that all the heads of the Committee on Belgian Relief, under which we are to work, were away. After some inquiries I found out who the important people of the town were, called on the prefect, the mayor, the rector of the university (who controls the school teachers), the health officer (called the chief of the Bureau of Hygiene here), and last but most important of all, Dr. Calmette, president of the Pasteur Institute, whose dream for years has been to have school nursing. He is a brother of the editor of Figaro, who was shot. One of the constant cries has been that the French do not want us to do this educational work, that they resent it. Well, I think anyone would get over that delusion for all time who saw the manner in which we were received. They positively clung to us; it was most touching. It has always been our experience, so I was not surprised. You see Dr. Lucas has never gone to a place where he was not invited and urged to come. That is what so many people who criticize our work have failed to realize. We finally ended our visits Saturday morning at a meeting of all the heads, including a representative of the Roman Catholic schools. The meeting took place at the Pasteur Institute, Dr. Calmette presiding. He is a wonderful man---such a spirit. None of the others ever heard of school nursing before, and I wish you could have heard me expound its merits in French! Not one of those men understood English. It must have been a painful experience for them, but much suffering they seemed willing to endure for the benefit of their children.

There are about 12,000 children in Lille to be fed. We visited the schools and found the children a pitiful sight. The sufferings they have been through seems in many cases to have stopped their growth; you never saw such tiny creatures, and the little girls of ten, twelve and fourteen years have the deepest frowns and such anxious expressions---it goes to one's heart. They were all poorly clad, too; not one child had a warm sweater or overcoat. Many do not go to school now for lack of warm enough clothing.

I had a long talk with our Red Cross man, Moffit by name, and he promised me a car for the nurses. He, by the way, organized the Boy Scouts of America. Mr. Bicknell got him over here. He is a very fine fellow, and I am so glad we have a man like that for Northern France. He is so deeply interested in the children---has a real social point of view.

Paris, February 13, 1919.

To A. G.

All that you say of Roosevelt is so true. It seems to me that he performed a great service in demonstrating that men of education and culture can be successful in the political life of America. He certainly had grave faults, but on the whole he did much to stir young men to perform their civic duties. It seems to me that until every man, woman and child feels a sense of civic responsibility we will have a poor government. We have shown in the past year what we can do by pulling together for a common cause. It should be our greatest effort in the future to inculcate the doctrine of personal civic responsibility, not only into the foreigners in our midst, but into our own American boys. Millen has worked splendidly at the call of his country in time of danger; will he and Constance both be as devoted and sincere to serve her in the time of a perhaps dangerous peace, made dangerous by the temptations of wealth and luxury? I do not believe we will ever have a better class feeling as long as the difference in class is based on money. The contrasts in that way are much sharper on this side than with us. We see the lowest depths of poverty---babes who are fed on beer because they actually cannot get milk, and these restaurants full of French men and women who are paying from twenty to thirty francs for a meal. If you could see the little girls pick through the garbage cans for food it would make you have a feeling of rebellion in your heart at the social fabric which produces such conditions.

Wilson certainly has voiced the highest aspirations of mankind, and as far as I can judge seems to be striving to make his so-called idealism into a living reality. His calling upon the Democrats for support was certainly a tactical error, but to me it seems nothing more. As for Wilson using Roosevelt or Wood, I think it would have been impossible. You cannot mix oil and water. The men and their methods of attack are essentially antagonistic.

Mr. Jaccaci tells me the cable asking for you has gone and I just dream of your arrival. I wrote you yesterday all my troubles of the day before. Well, yesterday the clouds all seemed to roll away, although we are all worried about Dr. Lucas, who is quite ill with influenza. I am going to Lille today as a sort of delegate sent by the agitated office staff to report on his actual condition. But Miss Kitredge has returned and explained why we were held up. It seems that this school dinner business is to be financed by the Committee on Belgian Relief. Well, a piece came out in the Lille paper saying the Red Cross was to feed all the children of North France. That upset everything as the French are really doing this through the Committee on Belgian Relief, and they were furious. All seemed off for a moment but now all is well again. The fact that the children continue to be cold and hungry while they wrangle seems to make no difference. In fact, the children always seem to be the ones to suffer.

Lille, Sunday.

Dr. Lucas is ill with pneumonia. I am with him here. Dr. Frankenheimer turned up unexpectedly and is looking out for him. Cannot write more now.

Lille, February, 20, 1919.

To A. G.

This letter is taking diary form. Dr. Lucas is much better, steadily improving, but Miss Kitredge's temperature keeps up.

Wilson has sailed for home, having most successfully completed his mission. The world seems to look upon him as a sort of Solomon. I mean the world here, not at home. What is that about the prophet in his own country? Even Dr. Lucas, who was very much against him at home because he did not get us into the war sooner, thinks now that he is a great man. I wish that I could feel more enthusiasm for his personality. But certainly he has a great world vision which he tries to make a reality and succeeds in doing in a surprising degree. As for the party politics, whether he uses Republicans or Democrats as his instruments, I do not think it matters much. At this distance those party squabbles seem very petty and trivial, but I wish someone would drown Lodge. He certainly is an obstructionist.

February 28, 1919.

To A. G.

I returned from Lille Sunday and Dr. Lucas followed Tuesday. He stood the trip well but is thin and somewhat voiceless. He has decided to go south and then I think will sail for home. His work is ended here. It was such an unfortunate time for his illness as he was just completing the tying up of our work with the French to make it permanent.

Poor old Mr. Jaccaci, president of the Society called Children of the Frontier, is at death's door with pneumonia. He is at the Vouilemont with two nurses, and the doctor scarcely leaves him---spends the nights in the next room. He has many anxious friends who hang about hoping for good news. Ida Tarbell and William Allen White are the most interested. I dined with Miss Tarbell last night; she is perfectly splendid, one of the most attractive, best poised women I have met---mind like a man's but very sweet and feminine.

So many are ill at present. Poor old Miss Delano has had a mastoid operation and I fear there is little hope for her. She has been ill ever since her arrival. Homer Folks' daughter, who is at Turin en route to Serbia, has had a pneumonia relapse; there is said to be little hope. This is a tale of sadness.

Cambrai, March 20, 1919.

Arrived here with Miss Ida Tarbell at 2 p. m. The devastation is terrible, but not so complete as at Lens, where the town is literally pulverized, not one stone standing on another. A steady stream of refugees is pouring into Cambrai. All along the road we pass groups of men, women and children toiling along with heavy loads on their backs and in their arms. Passing cars and trucks give them lifts when possible. When they arrive at their home town they begin to search for their own habitations and are very fortunate if one room is habitable. We lunched at Cambrai in the only hotel, which had been quite a place of twenty-two bed rooms, only one being left intact. The Boche occupied the town for four years and destroyed what they could before retreating. Lace making was the industry of the place, as of all the surrounding towns. There were one thousand looms in the vicinity. The majority of these were carefully removed by the Boche but at Cambrai they did not have time to remove them. Just did what damage they could. It will take at least a year to start any again. An Englishman who had set many of them up years ago lunched with us. He was there repairing, but the work goes very slowly, as they can only bring forty kilos (about 85 pounds) over the road a day, the freight is so crowded. No material destruction made one so indignant as the theft of this machinery or its deliberate destruction. It is like Sherman's march through Georgia. "War is hell !"

As one looks over the hopeless ruin of this beautiful country, sees the deep shell holes which have ploughed the bottom clay to the surface, sees the countryside denuded of every tree or shrub, not a hamlet left standing---it looks as if life could never take hold here again and still every now and then a tiny patch of cultivation appears. One sees the patient, devoted peasants toiling with hand-made implements over their bits of land, filling in and levelling. I suppose that within a few years it will all seem like some terrible nightmare, but at present it looks like the destruction of the world, as if the gates of hell had been left open and all the evil spirits had burst forth, to do away forever with the beauty of the earth.

In the tale which we heard in the afternoon at Cambrai of the valiant fight for right which one lone woman had made and how she prevailed, we realized the rout and defeat of the forces of hell. Her name is Mlle. L'Hotellier, directrice of the Hospital General at Cambrai. When the Boche took Cambrai in September in 1914 she was in charge of the hospital. One hundred and seven French soldiers took refuge in her hospital and there she concealed them for two weeks in spite of Boche vigilance. She managed to procure civilian clothes for them, letting them escape one at a time under the guise of bakers, butchers, etc. Then the problem of disposing of their uniforms came up. They were burned at night in a furnace and their arms concealed between the walls. For two years these women (she had ten accomplices) aided men to escape. She was finally arrested, twenty men being found in her hospital. She was tried and condemned to death, but the execution delayed, as they were most anxious to find her accomplices. They tried over and over again to starve her into submission but utterly failed. She is a tiny little woman. At the time of her arrest she was very stout but now is very thin---has a petite appearance. I imagine that the world's horror over Edith Cavell's fate made them hesitate to execute her. She was put in a cell with women criminals and treated with every kind of indignity. Finally her health completely broke down and she was put in a prison hospital at Valenciennes where the Sisters connived at her escape. She walked hundreds of miles, trying to escape, and was finally met by the retreating Boche army who were too much in a hurry to question her. She just lost herself with the refugees. This woman went directly back to her hospital, where we found her. She says that her experience has given her the priceless gift of freedom, that no one knows what freedom is who has not been deprived of it; that she is now free from everything; that she realizes that before she was a slave to certain habits, slave to clothes and to her possessions, but that now that she is free she realizes how little all of these are worth if we are deprived of the freedom of body or soul. She wrote on a card for me: "Vivre libre ou mourir."

I was very much impressed by her free, happy attitude toward life in spite of all the terrible sufferings she had been through. I know so many people who are slaves to their possessions. I realized the insignificance of material things at the time of the San Francisco earthquake. My relief at learning that all my loved ones were safe was so great that the loss of my hitherto precious possessions seemed small. My books which had seemed indispensables seemed to have no value and their loss meant most of all. In fact, we all have too many possessions. Life is very much and very unnecessarily complicated by them.

Lille, March 22, 1919.

We motored all day going to Ypres. We went over the Messine Bridge which the British so successfully mined and blew up. The ruin and devastation in this region is worse than near Arras and Lens, if possible. It has not been as much cleaned up. By the way, the only satisfaction one has is the sight of Boche prisoners cleaning up the havoc they have wrought. It really does seem like poetic justice. The English get much more work out of them than either the Americans or French. They look well cared for and content. A good many Chinamen are working in that region.

Our Ford got stuck in the mud on a horrible road. Thirty Chinamen ran forward and literally picked it up in their arms and ran with it about fifty yards. It was a comic sight. They were laughing and gibbering together. I was a little nervous. We finally arrived at Ypres. I believe that ruin will be a lasting monument to war barbarity. If any one is inclined to forget this world tragedy let him go to Ypres; not one stone left standing on another except a few wonderful carved pillars which still stand as a witness of the former glory of the Cathedral. The only other thing left standing in Ypres is the side wall of a church and on this side wall a huge crucifix is suspended. The figure of Christ is left there looking over the ruin spread out before Him, ruin wrought by the hand of man. The result of two thousand years of His teaching of love and every day the world seems to become more involved in hatreds and jealousies, both at home and abroad.

We hear that all efforts to unite nations in a common bond of good fellowship and mutual understanding is being bitterly fought at home by such men as Lodge, who are a disgrace to humanity. They are allowing low party politics to stand in the way of the one chance the world has to bring some order out of this chaos. It is heart breaking and discouraging to a degree. I feel much less hope after this exhibition of low standards and ideals at home for the future than I did in the midst of the war. Each nation too seems most suspicious of each other. All confidence is lost. We even hear that France is suspicious of America's motives.

Lille, March 22, 1919.

To C. A. S.

My friend Mr. Jaccaci is getting well after hanging between life and death for three weeks. I had three nurses on the case.

Yesterday I had a real professional triumph when I was told that the French Government had appropriated money to put school nurses in Northern France, having been so impressed by our work in the schools; and the French Nursing Society, which had been asked to supply the nurses, came to me for teachers for their nurses. The plan is too involved to write about, but I felt much encouraged as we had, apparently, done so little in Northern France that I was utterly disheartened over it. The examinations of our school nurse at Lille revealed such an astonishing state of affairs that they now realize that drastic measures must be taken. Out of 113 children examined last week only six were normal and these are the future people of Northern France!

Havre, April 3, 1919.

To L. K. S.

I am here at Havre to meet Alice, who is expected at noon. I am so excited---I do not think I ever felt so agitated. It has been nearly two years since I left home, years which seem like a lifetime. I am wondering how they will have affected Alice, she has done such splendid work. I want her, to rest a month if she will here before beginning any work. I am due several vacations, but doubt if I can leave Paris just now, as I am in charge of the Northern France work with the Committee for Belgian Relief. At present it does not mean much work, but I have to be on hand to select nurses to send North, to consult with Mr. Poland and the French Red Cross. The plan is that we use our nurses to teach the French nurses the art of school nursing principally.

The Government is deeply interested in it and has appropriated money to pay the French nurses. I am very much pleased with the result of our educational work, as we get calls now from all over France for nurses as instructors. We have established permanent centers at Lyons, Marseilles, Bordeaux and Paris. There are several movements on foot to establish hospitals here in memory of our dead. Mrs. Lathrop is over now trying to raise money for it.

It is a beautiful day which is something to be thankful for. A day of sunshine over here from November to May is rare.

All the medical lights of the world are gathered at Cannes to make plans for the International Red Cross. Although all the burden of the work will come on the Public Health Nurses, there is not one present, as far as I know. Miss Delano was asked to send a representative from the American Red Cross, but she was taken very ill and has done nothing about it. It is rumored that Miss Wald is on her way. I hope we can get her down there, apparently none of the nurses from the other Red Cross societies have been asked. They are very anxious for Dr. Lucas to stay with the International Red Cross, but he is anxious to get back to real medical practice. In this life they never see a sick person. I know just how he feels---one longs for the personal contact. I am so tired of dealing with just doctors and nurses.

There is a hospital here in tents---1400 beds---and the recreation and canteen work connected with it is endless. This is just one of many places. Mary Ashe Miller is so much interested in this canteen work that she has resigned from the journalistic bureau for it; she has a talent for entertaining young men.

My young cousin, Rogers Gait, was here a few days ago. He told me that he had registered at the University Club, "Rogers Gait, Ph. D., Corporal." He says he would not exchange this experience he has had in the ranks for anything. He is in the Signal Corps.

Paris, April 6, 1919.

To L. McL.

You can imagine how happy I am to have Alice here with me and to hear such good news of Constance. I am glad the baby is to be named for Ned. If the boy follows in Ned Griffith's footsteps he will be all that can be desired.

We devoted Saturday afternoon to entertaining young George Beaver, a very fine young fellow. The conscientious way in which these boys try to see the works of art is amusing. I feel as if they have visions of stern female relatives questioning them about the Louvre. Young Gaston Ashe employed a guide and saw everything, but armless and headless statues at this time make little appeal.

The nursing in Northern France progresses very slowly but we have introduced school nursing, which is a triumph. Miss Lillian Wald is here and Miss Jane Addams is expected shortly.

Miss Wald will go unofficially to the conference of Red Cross societies at Cannes. I am delighted that she is here to attend as she will be the only American nurse present who knows anything of Public Health nursing. The idea of an international Red Cross in time of peace spreading the doctrine of health through the world is inspiring.

Dr. Lucas is leaving for America tomorrow.

Paris, April 14, 1919.

To C. L.

On Friday I wished for you when Alice and I witnessed a most impressive and interesting ceremony in the beautiful grounds at one of our military hospitals. Miss Jeffreys, one of my nurses, was decorated with the Distinguished Service Cross. We went out with Miss Jeffreys, who was much overcome with the honor she was about to receive. Medical officers received us at the hospital. The nurses with their capes lined with red made a pretty sight on the lawn. A detachment of the Sanitary Corps was drawn up on each side and a military band played. The citation was a splendid one; it was read by Colonel Jennings. It stated that Miss Jeffreys, while nurse in charge of wounded men at Jouy sur Marne, had been wounded in the back when the hospital was bombed by an airplane at night. Her coolness and courage had been an example to the whole hospital staff. She gave no thought to herself, refused to go off duty until all her patients were taken to safety. Then General Hart stepped forward and pinned the cross on Miss Jef freys. Do you remember I went to Jouy to bring her to Paris a few days after she was wounded, as she fretted at the thought that she was receiving more attention in the hospital than the wounded men. The removal was very painful as the springs of the car were out of order. She was one of our finest baby nurses.

Paris, May 4, 1919.

To L. K. S.

It was my desire and intention to write you a long letter this morning, but I got started first on a letter to L. and M., and as the spirit moved me I just wrote on and on to them and now just cannot repeat it all to you. It was all about a trip A. and I took with Miss Addams, Miss Wald and Jeanette Rankin, who were anxious to see the devastated regions before going to Berne, where they attend an international conference of women. Miss Addams is doing this with the full approval of the State Department. I do not myself see how anyone can do anything towards bringing the world out of the hopeless mess we are in, but I suppose every effort should be made to bring about a better understanding between peoples.

A. is of course deeply interested in everything, but the note of discouragement here is so profound that I am doubtful if it has been best for her to have come. Wilson is trying to make a stand against the selfishness of the whole world. It is a pretty big and very hopeless task. The selfish stand taken by such men as Lodge in our Senate stands out in bold relief, as we are in a better position to be generous than any other nation. I hoped to go to Italy, but gave it up as the feeling is so intense over Fiume. Of course the President is absolutely right in the stand he took there. Neither Clemenceau or Lloyd George had the courage to come out in the open. I am absolutely for Wilson, but I think he makes a mistake in being so reticent. He should talk more frankly to the people; he keeps them guessing too much and it seems to be one of human nature's failings that people always imagine the worst rather than the best on any given subject.

I am really to have my long-talked-of vacation, the first I have had since in France, this week. We are going south to the Pyrenees. It is awfully cold and raw and one does not feel much like the country, although the woods are carpeted with the most lovely flowers. They look strange to me, being what we cultivate at home---such lovely primroses, violets, forget-me-nots and lilies-of-the-valley.

I received your good letter from Bolinas. It sounded lovely and peaceful there.

5 Rue Puebla, Lille, May 28, 1919.

My dear Miss Ashe.

Are you still planning to come up to Lille? We have grown so fast that you will never recognize us as the feeble struggle you saw in the spring. Has Marian Dale told you that I once more changed my mind and that my new sailing date will have to be in July? Everything was in such a mess last week that I saw no other way out of it. We were expanding and growing every minute and I couldn't keep caught up and plan ahead at the same time. It seemed simply impossible to get anywhere with the C. R. B. until they closed up all their other work, and then we had it out. I suggested that if they were only interested spasmodically perhaps it would be a good plan for us to stop working whenever they did, and wait for renewed interest. After some unpleasant interviews, they have finally responded splendidly and we have everything we could ask for. A new and energetic doctor was sent up, a secretary for me, some supplies, and we now have three autos going all day long, besides the one used by the doctor. They sent up a large number of nurses to be shown the work, then they were to go into the Aisne. This is not going to be carried through, but instead, we shall double our clinics in Lille, and develop new centers at Cambrai. There are fourteen American nurses in Lille alone, and the entire Lille staff is twenty-six.

The training school is started at the Institute Pasteur, and we have nine pupils at present, also five semi-pupils furnished by the Ministere du Regions Liberees. The children are being sorted out and sent to the country and seashore so fast it makes one dizzy.

One nurse with several helpers is cleaning up the scabies all over the city, and it is sort of an indoor sport, like a swimming pool, for the poor youngsters. They hate to hear they are cured, for they love the baths. We may start a pediculosis clinic for the worst cases.

The cod liver oil (two tons, not fifty) has arrived, and it is quite delicious. It looks like molasses and we spread it on bread. It should be quite a success, if we can get it distributed before it all leaks out. Our cellar floor at 5 Rue Puebla is a sea of cod liver oil, but being a French establishment, it doesn't bother anyone.

Miss Kittredge is leaving for England on Saturday and it will seem awfully dreary without her. She has been big and wonderful in the way she has handled the trying situation she has been forced to put up with all these months, and she has accomplished a tremendous amount, in spite of the obstacles. We have all grown devoted to her. Miss Emmet and Miss Thompson are also leaving shortly. Miss Emmet has been my only ray of light these last few weeks, for she has chauffed, been secretary, general errand boy and several other things all together. I would have been swamped without her.

I forgot to tell you that after getting excited about the new position at home I finally wrote that I was staying on here and wanted to rest all summer and unless they could wait until fall I would have to say no. Work really holds no charm for me at present, but it is quite worth while staying on here, for it is a wonderful experience in organizing and managing. So I have finally reached the point when I am quite ready to admit that I am very glad I came and to thank you for selecting me.

Do come up if you are not too tired and have time before you sail. Are you planning to leave France at once? I hope both you and Miss Griffith enjoyed your short vacation.

Very sincerely yours,

ELMIRA W. BEARS.

Committee on Relief for Belgium and Northern France,

July 8, 1919.

Miss Elmira Bears
Chief Nurse C. R. B. and N. F.
Child Welfare Dept.

My dear Miss Bears:

On July 1st, after months of devoted work for the debilitated children of Lille and the surrounding country, you are leaving at the time of conclusion of the active participation of the Commission in the Relief of the devastated regions of France.

Your unsparing work as Chief Nurse, in organizing child clinics and in other forms of medical assistance has shown executive ability and professional efficiency as well as tenderness and understanding.

Without your assistance, it would have been difficult for us to organize the Child Welfare Clinics and to carry on a campaign which we believe has been of such importance.

The Chairman and Director of Europe extend to you the thanks of the Commission for Relief in Belgium and Northern France for the aid you have given us.

Faithfully yours,
           WM. POLAND,
                          Director for Europe.

Herbert Hoover, Chairman.

Fontainbleau, June 21, 1919.

To C. A. S.

Alice and I are spending the week-end here. The forest is very lovely, but seems like woods to us, it is so gentle, quiet and peaceful. One can easily imagine the kings, queens and their retinues, in their gay hunting clothes, galloping through these shady paths.

My old friend, Mr. Jaccaci, who was at death's door so long, is staying here just at the entrance of the forest with a French artist friend. We have tea with him this afternoon.

We intended staying until Wednesday, but remembering that Monday at 7 p. m. was the time set to hear from the Germans if peace is to be signed, we fear to miss a celebration if we stay. The only thing that disturbs the peaceful loveliness of this place is the boom of guns all day long---practice at the artillery school near by. It makes one realize that war is not ended in the world.

I am very much disappointed that I was not permitted to go to Switzerland to see the Rollier treatment for T. B., where the patients live out of doors in the snow all but naked---"G" strings and sandals. The R. C. Nursing Service refused me permission on the ground that a precedent would be established. The experience would be valuable to me in my work in California.

Of course our one thought and topic is whether or not the peace will be signed.

June 23, 1919.

To C. A. S.

We arrived in Paris just in time to take part in the peace celebration. The rejoicing crowds were immense but, of course not so excited as on Armistice Day. The city is decorated with the most beautiful flags.

I met a man yesterday whose entire family have been killed---two brothers and nine first cousins.

Is it possible that the Senate won't ratify the treaty? I can't believe the people would stand it. It would be too disgraceful.

We are going on the Fourth to see the games at the great stadium the Americans have built. It is said to be a marvel of engineering and construction---built while the French were discussing the plans.

June 28, 1919.

To L. McL.

A big crowd waited for an hour, then the booming of the cannon announced the joyful news that PEACE was signed. It was all I could do to keep from crying. At this signal all the fountains began to play. It was a beautiful and joyful sight. I shall never forget that moment. For a time all the troublous times ahead were forgotten. Those disgusting senators at home with their dirty politics---the country must stand behind the President. Of course the treaty is not a perfect document; it is filled with the imperfections of which human nature is heir, but it is the product of the sincere thought of the brainiest men of our time, and for us to sit up in our ignorance of all the difficulties which they encountered, and criticize, it is foolish and childish to a degree and most unpatriotic in such men as Lodge and Fall.

Paris, July 8, 1919.

To L. McL.

Now that the 14th of July has been set for the Victory celebration in Paris, A. and I are quite broken-hearted that we are to sail on the 12th. The only consoling point is that all the allied armies are not to march, only the French. We are going to try to change our tickets for a later date, but I don't think we'll have a chance of succeeding, as probably everyone will wish to do the same. We probably couldn't get within miles of the Arc de Triumphe, which is of course the great point of interest, so I console myself. After all, having been here when Peace was signed was the great point. We had a most interesting time at Versailles, saw Clemenceau and all the high officials drive through the Palace gates, heard the great guns tell the good news and took part in the demonstration when the delegates walked out on the terrace after they signed.

Sunday.

We have had joyful news this morning---a notice from the steamship company that our sailing has been postponed till the 15th. It is wonderful, as we quite despaired at the thought of leaving on the 12th. It seemed too much, after being here two years to miss the great day. But I feel that we have seen our great day here, the 4th of July was thrilling, but I can't describe it. You must wait to hear. A. and I began the day at 7:45 and ended it at midnight. We had good tickets for the review in the morning at the Place de la Concorde, which was beautifully decorated, our flags predominating in honor of the day, and all the noble marble ladies, each you will remember representing a city, bedecked with gay flowers, Strasbourg and Lille having put aside their mourning. Pershing, Poincaré, Clemenceau and Foch descended from their autos and walked around the Place while the bands played the national airs. The enthusiasm was great. The Place was a wonderful sight, packed solid with men in blue and khaki. The combination made a most effective color scheme. After they reached the grand stand which was covered with red and gold, our men marched by, three thousand picked men, all said to be six feet and over.

You never saw such marching. It was perfect, a great contrast to the dear poilus who don't attempt to do anything but swing cheerfully along in their shabby clothes, but they know how to fight, and all the world loves them. We had a very early lunch---10:30 a. m.---and went out to the Pershing Stadium, a really wonderful place, built by our army in three weeks. It is huge, built of cement, holds twenty thousand people. To see it packed solid with blue and khaki was a sight worth travelling far to see. We took a little lunch with us and stayed to see the fireworks in the evening. The daylight lasts so long that it was not dark enough to set off the fireworks until 10 p. m. We had to leave before it was over, as we learned that no provision had been made by the French to handle the immense crowds which had to be taken back to Paris. Even the usual cars which run to this suburb stopped at their usual hour, 9 p. m. They are the queerest people, no initiative. I don't see how they ever get anywhere. For instance, no amount of money will bribe a taxi-driver when he starts for his lunch or dinner to stop to take a passenger. The meal hour is a sacred time to all the French. Many eat in their little shops and if you enter at that time and ask to be shown anything they are positively insulting. I have never seen such poor and indifferent salespeople. Their manner is always: "Take it or leave it, I don't care."

Now that the time approaches to go home, I feel most impatient to be there, but I know that I shall miss this life which has been so full of intense interest. The next years will be difficult ones to live through for all the world. The period of readjustment is always hard and the social unrest is so great that one wonders what the next twenty-five years will bring about. I believe, with many who are not Americans, that the hope of the world lies with America. We are not so hampered by tradition that readjustment without seas of blood is impossible. Our people, when the test comes, are always to be found sane and solid. But we must all work hard for good citizenship. There is much to be done and I am eager to get home and be at work again.

Rochambeau, July 16, 1919.

To L. McL.

Alice and I are sitting on the deck enjoying the balmy sea air. We left Paris yesterday morning at eight but have not sailed yet. There have been strikes of all kinds which have delayed the sailing.

We are very comfortably situated, a nice large stateroom and the meals are good, but it is a slow boat. We don't have to land for eleven days. I was so exhausted after the 14th festivities that I slept for twelve hours last night.

But the last three days in Paris paid for any amount of fatigue, they were so beautiful. Having nothing to do but to wander the streets, we watched the city being decorated in its gala clothes. The French do arrange flags so beautifully, and every little side street was gay with the same art. Colored electric lights hung in festoons from one end of the city to the other. Millions of people turned out for three days and paraded the streets, watching every flag that went up with the keenest joy and interest. The boulevards, Place de la Concorde and Champs Elysée, were of course impassable. On the whole the crowds were very quiet. Everyone seems exhausted now that the great struggle is over but that tense look is gone from the women's faces and the men have a happy smile, which is a great relief after being accustomed to the look of deep anxiety which all have shown for so many weary months.

The night of the 13th everyone filed before the catafalque which was erected under the Arc de Triumph in honor of those who died for their country.

The crowd was so great that the procession moved very slowly. We did not get home until 12 p. m. and rose at 4:30 a. m. in order to get a place to see the parade. We went to Red Cross headquarters, camp stools under our arms. We marched up in a body to Place de la Concorde where a splendid place had been reserved for us. We stood six hours, but it did not seem long. The sight of the Place gaily decorated, fountains playing and packed densely with people was a never-to-be-forgotten sight. The center of the Place was reserved for mutilées who hobbled or were wheeled there, many carrying beautiful flags. Ranged behind them were captured cannon. It was all most effective.

At 8:30 to the minute the guns began to boom, heralding the start of the parade. In about half an hour the Republican Guard appeared, followed by Joffre and Foch and their escort. Of course the enthusiasm and excitement was great. Then our men came, headed by Pershing, who made a fine appearance. He got a rousing welcome and the crowd were most enthusiastic over our men, who marched wonderfully, so much better than any other contingent that there was no comparison. The English flags were very beautiful. The flags of regiments that fought were carried, many of them all shot to pieces. They did give one a thrill. Every nation and color seemed to be represented---Japanese, Chinese, Arabs, Americans---all filed by, only the German eagle absent. It was a wonderful and never-to-be-forgotten sight. When the mutilées hobbled out, offering bouquets to their generals as they passed on their fine, prancing horses, you realized the great sacrifice which had won this victory. I am glad I was here to see the end. I feel that-it completed my great experience. I can say from my heart: Thank God I was permitted to play my part and thank God France is saved---Vive la France!