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She set up and furnished reading-rooms and recreation rooms. She started classes and lectures. Officers were amazed to see her treating their men as if they were human beings， and assured her that she would only end by 'spoiling the brutes'. But that was not Miss Nightingale's opinion， and she was justified. The private soldier began to drink less and even-- though that seemed impossible-- to save his pay. Miss Nightingale became a banker for the Army， receiving and sending home large sums of money every month. At last， reluctantly， the Government followed suit， and established machinery of its own for the remission of money.Lord Panmure， however， remained sceptical； 'it will do no good，' he pronounced； 'the British soldier is not a remitting animal.' But， in fact during the next six months ā71，000 was sent home.

Amid all these activities， Miss Nightingale took up the further task of inspecting the hospitals in the Crimea itself. The labour was extreme， and the conditions of life were almost intolerable.

She spent whole days in the saddle， or was driven over those bleak and rocky heights in a baggage cart. Sometimes she stood for hours in the heavily failing snow， and would only reach her hut at dead of night after walking for miles through perilous ravines. Her powers of resistance seemed incredible， but at last they were exhausted. She was attacked by fever， and for a moment came very near to death. Yet she worked on； if she could not move， she could at least write， and write she did until her mind had left her； and after it had left her， in what seemed the delirious trance of death itself， she still wrote. When， after many weeks， she was strong enough to travel， she was implored to return to England， but she utterly refused. She would not go back， she said， before the last of the soldiers had left Scutari.

This happy moment had almost arrived， when suddenly the smouldering hostilities of the medical authorities burst out into a flame. Dr. Hall's labours had been rewarded by a K.C.B--letters which， as Miss Nightingale told Sidney Herbert， she could only suppose to mean 'Knight of the Crimean Burial-Grounds'-- and the honour had turned his head. He was Sir John， and he would be thwarted no longer. Disputes had lately arisen between Miss Nightingale and some of the nurses in the Crimean hospitals. The situation had been embittered by rumours of religious dissensions， while the Crimean nurses were Roman Catholics， many of those at Scutari were suspected of a regrettable propensity towards the tenets of Dr. Pusey. Miss Nightingale was by no means disturbed by these sectarian differences， but any suggestion that her supreme authority over all the nurses with the Army was， no doubt， enough to rouse her to fury； and it appeared that Mrs.

Bridgeman， the Reverend Mother in the Crimea， had ventured to call that authority in question. Sir John Hall thought that his opportunity had come， and strongly supported Mrs. Bridgeman-- or， as Miss Nightingale preferred to call her， the 'Reverend Brickbat'.

There was a violent struggle； Miss Nightingale's rage was terrible. Dr. Hall， she declared， was doing his best to 'root her out of the Crimea'. She would bear it no longer； the War Office was playing her false； there was only one thing to be done--Sidney Herbert must move for the production of papers in the House of Commons， so that the public might be able to judge between her and her enemies. Sidney Herbert， with great difficulty， calmed her down. Orders were immediately dispatched putting her supremacy beyond doubt， and the Reverend Brickbat withdrew from the scene. Sir John， however， was more tenacious. A few weeks later， Miss Nightingale and her nurses visited the Crimea for the last time， and the brilliant idea occurred to him that he could crush her by a very simple expedient-- he would starve her into submission； and he actually ordered that no rations of any kind should be supplied to her. He had already tried this plan with great effect upon an unfortunate medical man whose presence in the Crimea he had considered an intrusion； but he was now to learn that such tricks were thrown away upon Miss Nightingale. With extraordinary foresight， she had brought with her a great supply of food； she succeeded in obtaining more at her own expense and by her own exertions； and thus for ten days， in that inhospitable country， she was able to feed herself and twenty-four nurses. Eventually， the military authorities intervened in her favour， and Sir John had to confess that he was beaten.

It was not until July， 1856--four months after the Declaration of Peace-- that Miss Nightingale left Scutari for England. Her reputation was now enormous， and the enthusiasm of the public was unbounded. The royal approbation was expressed by the gift of a brooch， accompanied by a private letter. 'You are， I know， well aware，' wrote Her Majesty， 'of the high sense I entertain of the Christian devotion which you have displayed during this great and bloody war， and I need hardly repeat to you how warm my admiration is for your services， which are fully equal to those of my dear and brave soldiers， whose sufferings you have had the privilege of alleviating in so merciful a manner. I am， however， anxious of marking my feelings in a manner which I trust will be agreeable to you， and therefore， send you with this letter a brooch， the form and emblems of which commemorate your great and blessed work， and which I hope you will wear as a mark of the high approbation of your Sovereign！

'It will be a very great satisfaction to me，' Her Majesty added， 'to make the acquaintance of one who has set so bright an example to our sex.'

The brooch， which was designed by the Prince Consort， bore a St .

George's cross in red enamel， and the Royal cipher surmounted by diamonds. The whole was encircled by the inscription 'Blessed are the Merciful'.

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