" MOTHER! MOTHER!"
/I.. THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR."] Sra,—The letter under the above title which appeared in your last week's issue recalls to my mind a story told in connexion Ivith the late Miss Florence Nightingale which I have always thought one of the most poignant and touching stories of its kind. Those of your• readers with whom it is uhfanriliar• may be glad to make acquaintance with it. An old Crimean veteran, the tale runs, was asked by a lady if he had known Miss Nightingale out in the Crimea. "Know her P" he answered, "I should think I did. If ever• there was an angel, she was one, I'm sure. I was wounded in the battle of Balaclava and lay all night in the field, the snow falling that fast I was nearly covered. Then I heard a boy calling out in such a piteous voice, Mother Mother ! Mother I' I managed to raise myself on my elbow to look where the voice came from, and there lay a little drummer chap with half of his face shot away. And then, what do you think I saw P—a light coming towards us. It came nearer and nearer, and then I saw it was a woman who was carrying it. At first I really thought it was an angel—it's a fact, I did. She had heard the poor• lad's cry, and was making straight for• him. Then she knelt down right there in the snow and put her arm under his poor head, and I heard him say, ' 0 mother, I knew you'd come 1' And there, fast folded in her loving arms, his bleeding face on her breast, he died."—I am, Sir, &c., C. M. STEEDMAN. Shaw Vicarage, Wilts.
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