beds; sometimes six, or even eight children had to be put in one bed; and being asked on one occasion whether they did not "kick one another," they answered, "Oh, no, ma'am, we're so comfor'ble." Poor little things, they scarcely remembered ever to have slept in a bed before. But this is not the usual run of workhouse life. And, if any one would know what are the lowest depths of human vice and misery, would see the festering mass of decay of living human bodies and human souls, and then would try what one loving soul, filled with the spirit of her God, can do to let in the light of God into this hideous well (worse than the well of Cawnpore), to bind up the wounds, to heal the broken-hearted, to bring release to the captives--let her study the ways, and follow in the steps of this one young, frail woman, who has died to show us the way--blessed in her death as in her life. The death of Miss Jones involved Miss Nightingale in much anxiety and additional responsibility. "The whole work of finding her successor has fallen upon me," she wrote to Madame Mohl (March 20); "and in addition they expect me to manage the Workhouse at Liverpool from my bedroom." And again (April 30): "I have seven or eight hours a day additional writing for the last two months about this Liverpool workhouse." The bundle of correspondence on the subject makes this statement quite credible. "I believe I have found a successor[88] at last. I don't think anything in the course of my long life ever struck me so much as the deadlock we have been placed in by the death of one pupil--combined, you know, with the enormous _jaw_, the infinite female ink which England pours forth on 'Woman's Work.' It used to be said that people gave their _blood_ to their country. Now they give their _ink_." Miss Nightingale's first concern was to put heart and strength into the nurses who were now deprived of their Chief. Writing as their "affectionate friend and fellow-sufferer," she called upon them to fight the good fight without flinching. "Many battles which seemed desperate while the General lived have been fought and won by the soldiers who, when they saw their General fall, were determined to save his name and win the ground he had died for. And shall we fight a heavenly battle, a battle to cure the bodies and souls of God's poor, less well than men fight an earthly battle to kill and wound?" "The nurses have been splendid," she was able to report presently. Miss Nightingale concluded her paper in _Good Words_ with a stirring appeal to others--Poor Law officials, on their part, and devoted women, on theirs--to go and do likewise. "The Son of God goes forth to war, who follows in his train? Oh, daughters of God, are there so few to answer?" The appeal awoke a response in at least one heart. One of the most valued of Miss Nightingale's disciples ascribed her call to this article in _Good Words_.