Early next morning the “Angel Band,” as Kinglake so beautifully termed Miss Nightingale and her nurses, landed at Boulogne, where a reception awaited them which was in marked contrast to the quiet and almost secret departure from London the night before. France was our ally; her sons had fallen in the recent battle of the Alma beside our own, and here was a band of English sisters, Protestant and Roman Catholic, united in a common errand of mercy passing through her land to the relief of the sick and wounded. It was a circumstance to arouse French enthusiasm, and when Miss Nightingale and her nurses stepped ashore they were met by a stalwart company of Boulogne fishwives, a merry and picturesque band in snowy caps and gay petticoats, who seized trunks and bags and almost fought for the privilege of carrying the luggage of _les sœurs_ to the railway station. They would accept no pay, not a _sou_, and they bustled along with their brawny arms swinging to straps and handles, or with boxes hoisted on their broad backs, chattering of “Pierre” or of “Jacques” out at the war, and praying the _bon Dieu_ that if he suffered the sisters might tend him. The tears streamed down many of the old and weather-beaten cheeks when they said adieu. They claimed but one reward, a shake of the hand, and then as the train steamed out of the station they waved their hands and cried _Vive les sœurs_! They proceeded to Paris and made a passing stay at the mother-house of the sisters of St. Vincent de Paul, where Miss Nightingale was no stranger. The good sisters were overwhelmed with joy to receive her, and delighted to have the opportunity of entertaining the company. Before leaving Paris Miss Nightingale called on her friend Lady Canning, who, in a letter, October 24th, 1854, says: “To-day we are appointed to go to St. Cloud, and I have had to rush about after bonnets, etc. It is horrid to be given to frivolities just now, when one is hearing all the horrors from the Crimea, and in the expectation of more.... Miss Nightingale came to see me--very happy and stout-hearted, and with an ample stock of nurses.” When, after a short rest in Paris, Miss Nightingale and her band set out for Marseilles, the port of embarkation, they met with the utmost attention as they travelled. Porters declined to be tipped and hotel proprietors would make no charges. It was an honour to serve _les bonnes sœurs_.