[159] To another Superintendent who was taking up a new post, Miss Nightingale sent to her room "a wreath of everlastings and corn to be my little messengers to say how you are sowing seed that will grow up and be the Bread of Life for us, and how the work that you are doing is everlasting. Thank God for it." (_To a Nurse confronted with a difficult situation._) LEA HURST, _August_ 30 [1873].... It is quite useless for either you or me to take upon ourselves the solution of this enormous difficulty: we must leave it to God. But at present the duty is plain. And God always helps those who are obeying His call to duty: often gives them the privilege of saving others. Do you remember the great London theatre which was burnt down at a Christmas pantomime? Who were the heroes then? The poor clown and the poor pantaloon who were at their duty! The audience who were there because they liked it made a selfish stampede, and but for a lucky accident might all have been crushed or burnt. But the clown and the pantaloon, though there was not a moment to save a shawl or a coat to throw over the ballet-dancers--gauze-dressed women who, if a spark had fallen upon them would have been instantly in a blaze--actually carried out every one of these women safely into the snow, gauze and all. And the carpenter collected the poor little ballet-children and dragged them through the snow and slush to his own house, where he kept them in safety. Brave clown--brave pantaloon--brave carpenter (while the selfish audience who were there for amusement almost jostled each other to death). So does God always stand by those who are there for duty--though they be only a clown or pantaloon. All our cares arise from one of two things: either we have not taken up our work for His love, in which case we know He has bound Himself to take our cares upon Him: or we do not sufficiently see His love in calling us to His work. (_To a Lady Superintendent._) 35 SOUTH STREET, _Dec._ 30 [1874]. I wish you and all our Nurses "God Speed" with all my soul and strength at the beginning of this New Year which I hardly expected to see. May it bring every blessing to them; though sometimes, do you know, I am so cowardly that I scarcely dare to say "God bless you" to those I love well: because we know what His blessings are. "Blessed are they that mourn: Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' sake: Blessed are the pure in heart." And as we get on in life, we know both how truly those blessings _are_ blessings, and how much there is to go through to win them. You are young, my dear: a thousand years younger than this old black beetle. And I have often a shuddering sort of maternal feeling in wishing you "blessings." ...