The men of France are taking deep interest in the splendid manner in which the women of all the different nations are responding to the call to service. I described to General Petain the work of the Scottish Women's Hospitals. These magnificent hospitals are organised and staffed entirely by women, and started, in the first instance, by the National Union of Women's Suffrage (Scottish Branch). He was deeply interested to learn that what had been before the war a political society, had, with that splendid spirit of patriotism which had from the first day of the war animated every man, woman, and child of Great Britain, drawn upon its funds and founded the hospital units. I explained to him that it was no longer a question of politics, but simply a case of serving humanity and serving it to the best possible advantage. The National Union had realised that this was a time for organised effort on the part of all women for the benefit of the human race and the alleviation of suffering. I spoke of the bravery of our girls in Siberia; how many of them had laid down their lives during the typhus epidemic; how cheerfully they had borne hardships, our doctors writing home that their tent hospitals were like "great white birds spreading their wings under the trees," whereas really they had often been up all night hanging on to the tent-poles to prevent the tents collapsing over their patients. A member of the Etat-Major asked how we overcame the language difficulty. I pointed out that to diagnose typhus and watch the progress of the patient it was not necessary to speak to him, and that by the magic language of sympathy we managed to establish some form of "understanding" between the patients, the doctors, and the nurses. The members of our staff were chosen as far as possible with a knowledge of French or German, and it was possible to find many Serbians speaking either one of these languages. We also found interpreters amongst the Austrian prisoner orderlies. These prisoner orderlies had really proved useful and had done their best to help us. Naturally they had their faults. One of our lady doctors had as orderly a Viennese professor, willing, but somewhat absent-minded. One morning she sent for him and asked him, "Herr Karl, can you tell me what was wrong with my bath water this morning?" "I really don't know, Fraeulein, but I will endeavour to find out." Ten minutes later he returned, looking decidedly guilty, and stammered out: "I do not know how to tell you what happened to that bath water." "Nonsense!--it can't be very terrible," replied Doctor X; "what was wrong?" "Well, Fraeulein, when I went into the camp kitchen this morning there were two cauldrons there--one was your bath water, and the other was the camp soup; to you, Fraeulein, I brought the camp soup."