The funeral of the beloved young sister took place at Easter-time under bright azure skies, when Nature was decking that Eastern land in a fresh garb of loveliness. The simple coffin, covered with a white pall, emblematic of the youthful purity of her who slept beneath, was conveyed through the streets of Smyrna to the English burying-ground, a route of two miles, through crowds of sympathetic spectators. The coffin was preceded by a detachment of fifty soldiers, marching sorrowfully with arms reversed. Immediately in front of the coffin walked two chaplains, and on either side were sisters and nurses. Military and medical officers followed the _cortège_, which passed through the silent streets, a touching and pathetic spectacle. Christian and Moslem alike joined in paying a tribute of homage to one whose deeds of mercy lifted her above the strife of creeds. The first young Christian martyr Is carried to the tomb, And busy marts and crowded streets Are wrapt alike in gloom. And men who loathe the Cross and name Which she was proud to own, Yet pay their homage, meet and due, To her good deeds alone. Before many weeks had passed by, Miss Nightingale was again called to mourn the loss of another of her helpers. The next claimed by death was Sister Winifred, a Sister of Charity, who, with other nuns from Ireland, was tending the Irish soldiers in the hospital at Balaclava, to which they had recently come from Scutari and Kullali. Only a few days after her arrival Sister Winifred was attacked by cholera, which had broken out afresh at Balaclava. Very touching is the account which Sister Mary Aloysius gives of the death of her comrade: “Our third day in Balaclava was a very sad one for us. One of our dear band, Sister Winifred, got very ill during the night with cholera. She was a most angelic sister, and we were all deeply grieved. She was attacked at about three o’clock in the morning with the symptoms which were now so well known to us; every remedy was applied; our beloved Rev. Mother never left her. She was attended by Father Unsworth, from whom she received the last rites of our holy religion; and she calmly breathed her last on the evening of the same day. A hut was arranged in which to place the remains; and so alarming were the rats--and such huge animals were they--that we had to watch during the night so that they should not touch her. She, the first to go of our little band (viz. the Roman Catholic sisters), had been full of life and energy the day before. We were all very sad, and we wondered who would be the next.”