The columns of the British press were flooded with letters denouncing the crime and acknowledging the death of the martyr as an irresistibly compelling call to duty; and innumerable suggestions were made for perpetuating in tangible form the memory of a daughter of England who had taught us how to die. One notable scheme for a memorial was speedily announced in connexion with the London Hospital, which happened to be establishing a new nursing home, which was to bear the name of Queen Alexandra. With true nobility of heart Queen Alexandra promptly requested that her name should give way to that of Edith Cavell, and public subscriptions quickly assured an enlargement of the original scheme. The _Daily Telegraph_ initiated a subscription fund to provide a statue in stone and bronze by Sir George Frampton, and the eminent sculptor intimated that his work would be a labour of love and a voluntary gift. The Westminster City Council offered a site opposite the National Portrait Gallery; and thus the statue will face Trafalgar Square, already rich in national memories. Edith Cavell's death first became known in England on Trafalgar Day. The base of the Nelson Monument was hidden under the customary floral tributes to our greatest naval hero, and amid them was placed a wreath of laurels, a symbol of the martyrdom of the heroic nurse, of which the public would learn through the press the following day. It will be peculiarly fitting for the statue to Edith Cavell, whose last words were that she was glad to die for her country, to be within sight of the column where stands the one-armed Nelson, whose last immortal signal, 'England expects every man to do his duty,' has ever been an inspiration not only to the Fleet, but to every true lover of his country. Other ideas for the perpetuation of the name of Nurse Cavell included the raising of a Cavell Regiment, that should be a living monument of brave men, who would be heartened and vivified by the noble life and death of their devoted countrywoman. But the true spirit of Britons negatived the necessity for a particular regiment. The next day after the announcement of the death of Miss Cavell every eligible man in her native village joined the Forces, and the recruits, all told, must have numbered many thousands. Probably it would afford general satisfaction if another proposal bore fruit, namely, the institution of a new Order, equivalent to the Victoria Cross, for heroism by women of our race and Empire; and the heroism of our women in the present War emphasizes the justice and wisdom of some such acknowledgement.