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 disease-smitten soldiers and sailors like an angel of light and mercy. Surly officials, under her firm yet gentle influence, grew kind and obliging, and that great giant called "Routine," in his panoply of red-tape, fled before her. How she wrought and laboured during that awful struggle, at which Europe looked on affrighted, we have the testimony of many a thankful heart; and volumes might be filled with the expressions of admiration and gratitude which have been poured forth by those who owed the alleviation of their sufferings, and in many cases perhaps life itself, to her unceasing exertions. Not only did she act as directress of her band of devoted women, but constantly was she seen at the bedside of the sick and wounded, administering their medicines and diet, and assisting at operations of the most fearful and disgusting character. Nor were the spiritual wants of the sufferers forgotten. She read to them, and prayed with and for them, and talked to them of friends, and home, and a Saviour's love, as a true loving woman, with a soul lifted above worldly things, only could do. Such was Florence Nightingale; firm to her duty, faithful to her trust, an example and an honour to her sex. We see her, amid the din, and smoke, and horrible confusion of that bloody Crimean struggle, like a bright star looking peacefully out from between the lurid thunder-clouds of a stormy sky; like a green oasis in a desolate wilderness; a sweet flower beautifying and perfuming, or a fount sending forth refreshing waters, where all else is bleak, and gloomy, and sterile. A delicate frail-looking woman, as she was and is, with a constitution, we are told, by no means strong, with a soul of refined sensibility, we can hardly believe it possible that she witnessed such scenes, and underwent such privations, and performed such works as we read of her seeing and doing. We must look for an explanation of this apparent anomaly in her strong love for her fellow-creatures, her deep abiding sense of Christian duty, and her faith in the presence and protection of God, who in His infinite goodness and mercy had raised up and prepared her for this holy mission, for such it truly was.

Florence Nightingale returned to England at the close of the war. She had been smitten by Crimean fever, and obliged to suspend her operations for a time, but would not, until the deadly struggle was over, and her services were no longer required, leave her chosen battle-field with disease and suffering. No wonder that she was greeted, on landing on her native shores, with a universal burst of applause. Englishmen have reason to be more proud of her than of ail their deeds of valour and endurance; and English-women should rejoice that they can exhibit to the world such an example of their best and noblest characteristics. The Queen of England has testified her sense of the service render<ed by Miss Nightingale to the country and humanity at large, by presenting her with a magnificent jewelled decoration, accompanied by an autograph letter, and addresses have been presented to her by various corporate and other bodies. With the modesty of true merit, she shrinks from all public demonstrations of respect and admiration, and disclaims much praise that is justly her due, attributing much beneficial result to that noble band of women who so well seconded her exertions. She is now resting from her labours in the bosom of her family, and awaiting the next great