The soldier who watched for her coming, night by night, on her quiet rounds, after dark, when other nurses were by her orders resting, and who only knew her as “the Lady with the Lamp,” has been quoted all over the world; but it has been well said that she was also “the lady with the brain.” Hercules had not so big a task before him when he cleansed the Augean stables, and the swiftness with which order and comfort were created in this “hell” of suffering—for so it has been named by those who saw and knew—might well be called one of the wonders of the world. [Illustration: “A Mission of Mercy.” Florence Nightingale at Scutari. (_After the painting by J. Barratt._)] The secret lay partly in the fact that Florence Nightingale’s whole life had been an offering and a preparation. She knew all it had been possible for her to learn of hospital management and training. She never wasted words, nor frittered away her power. Her authority grew daily. Mr. Herbert’s support, even at so great a distance, was, of course, beyond price. Lord Raglan soon found the value of her letters. She inspired her orderlies with utmost devotion, and it is needless to speak of what her patients themselves felt to her. Kinglake is not, like the present writer, a woman, and therefore he can write with a good grace and from his own knowledge what might come with an ill grace from a woman’s pen. He shall again therefore be quoted, word for word, through a few pages. “The growth of her dominion was rapid, was natural, and not unlike the development of what men call ‘responsible government.’ One of others accepting a task ostensibly subordinate and humble, she yet could not, if she would, divest herself of the authority that belonged to her as a gentlewoman—as a gentlewoman abounding in all the natural gifts, and all the peculiar knowledge required for hospital management. Charged to be in the wards, to smooth the sufferer’s pillow, to give him his food and his medicine as ordered by the medical officers, she could not but speak with cogency of the state of the air which she herself had to breathe; she could not be bidden to acquiesce if the beds she approached were impure; she could scarcely be held to silence if the diet she had been told to administer were not forthcoming; and, whatever her orders, she could hardly be expected to give a sufferer food which she perceived to be bad or unfit. If the males[9] did not quite understand the peculiar contrivances fitted for the preparation of hospital diet, might she not, perhaps, disclose her own knowledge, and show them what to do? Or, if they could not be taught, or imagined that they had not the power to do what was needed, might not she herself compass her object by using the resources which she had at command? Might not she herself found and organize the requisite kitchens, when she knew that the difference