These women in the grey uniforms with Tartan trimmings and the sign of the thistle embroidered on their hats and their epaulets, have crossed the vision of the central armies with a frequency that has seemed, to the common soldier at least, to partake of the supernatural. Bulgarian prisoners brought into the Scottish Women’s Hospital operating at Mejidia on the Roumanian front looked up into the doctors’ faces in amazement to inquire: “Who are you? We thought we had done for you. There you were in the south. Now here you are in north. Are you double?” Of this work in the north, in the Dobrudja from where they were obliged to retreat into Russia, the Prefect of Constanza said in admiration: “It is extraordinary how these women endure hardship. They refuse help and carry the wounded themselves. They work like navvies.” At the very beginning of the war, the Scottish women left their first record of efficiency at Calais. Their hospital there in the Rue Archimede, operated by Dr. Alice Hutchinson, had the lowest percentage of mortality for the epidemic of enteric fever. In France the hospital at Troyes under Dr. Louise McElroy was so good that it received an official command to pick up and proceed to Salonika to be regularly attached to the French army, this being one of the very few instances on record where a voluntary hospital has been so honoured. The Scottish Hospital under Dr. Francis Ivins, established in the deserted old Cistercian abbey at Royaumont, is one of the show hospitals of France. When the doctors first took possession of the ancient abbey they had no heat, no light but candles stuck in bottles, no water but that supplied by a tap in the holy fountain, and they themselves slept on the floor. But eventually they had transformed the great vaulted religious corridors into the comfortable wards of Hôpital Auxiliarie 301. They might, the French Government had said, have the “_petite blessé_.” They would be entrusted with operations on fingers and toes! And every week or so, some French general ran down from Paris to see if they were doing these right. But within two months the War Office itself had asked to have the capacity of the hospital increased from 100 to 400 beds. And the medical department of the army had been notified to send to Royaumont only the “_grande blessés_.” At the end of the first week’s drive on the Somme, all of the other hospitals were objecting that they could receive no more patients: their overworked staffs could not keep up with the operations already awaiting them in the crowded wards. “But,” said the French Government, “see the Dames du Royaumont! Already they have evacuated their wounded and report to us for more.” [Illustration: MISS NANCY NETTLEFOLD Leader in the campaign to admit women to the practise of law in England. ]