rang in my home, and I was greeted with the surprising question, "Do you want to go to Italy for real service within a few days?" and I had followed that greeting down to the office of Mr. Robert P. Perkins, who had just been appointed American Red Cross commissioner for Italy, in rier that I might tell him why it would not be possible for me to go at this time, and had left his office asking: “When do must me to start?" I had conecmored my ready acceptance of the in

or to become a member of the SERMASSC I had previously refused the avity of going overseas, feeling the there was nothing I could do but Vin some other woman could do it far better. Then, too, I had arranged a lecture tour for the season, promising to allow nothing to disturb the programme. And yet this offer, coming as it did, like a bok out of the blue, had seemed to take me, outside of my own will, from home, across the Atlantic to Paris, through France, into Italy and down into Naples. Several nights as I lay in my steamerin the darkened deck out waves flashing ominously ad pondered my feeble sen and impalpable Paris, still slave to that s of yesterday, personal the cold, in satirical whimsey, :: regretful memories of my gods. In Rome my point of went no noticeable change. sfer the distraught little profugha Naples to teach me, through and the answer to it of the AmerRed Cross, that we are all-men, and nations-but instruments a persistent truth, working its way nough the black horror of war's illusions a unified principle to a permanent d. It was this knowledge, remaining me through all of the sad but purdays of my stay in Italy, when Lussed before me as a grotesque pagevolved from the barbaric code ran-Germanism, that translated the ere a my perplexities from myself to nose vise pight demanded the Christan word's service. It was this trans

museon which protected me against a

Hysek Peaking down before tragedies remendous they leave one helpless un

less one is able to grasp and hold that "power outside ourselves which makes for fortitude as well as for righteousness." It was this renewed faith which whispered words of courage to be passed along to the stricken, giving them fresh courage to run their course with patience.

The bereft profugha was but one of countless thousands-eid women, oid men, young women, and children who were separated on their loved ones, their homes, their possessions, and riven sown from the era by the relentless enemy Some ame to escape the onSaught at the Prave. Others ded in terror from the towns where the ruthless Gotha pursued to abedeal night lights, dropog death to the innocent and the aged. Wouter their babes at their breasts, are to seek food and shelter of the American Red Cross lest their little ones should verish of cold and hunger. Chiltren of all ages, ragged and famished, with a haunting terror in their eyes, whose parents had been either killed or sepaa.otfrom them in the flight, wandered , ed by that Unseen Power to where perey and shelter awaited them.

And the old couples! To me they were war's greatest tragedy. Many of them had worked side by side through years of oy and sorrow, accumulating a comfortable competency for their last years, only to be cast from the home they had builded, and out upon a strange highway with privation and misery as their companions. Groups of old women, their sons and grandsons at the front, carrying a few Cherished belongings with them, came seeking and crying out for the "Croce Rossa Americana," and the American Red Cross answered them.

The men of the commission to Italy were drawn from the roster of America's well-known manufacturers, bankers, architects, lawyers, and doctors. They went over with one incentive, the desire to stand side by side with the people of Italy, helping them to bear their burden, uniting with them in a common cause and bringing to them the sympathy and support of the United States and of all patriotic Americans.

Upon the women, who included Miss Sylvia Coney, Miss Sara Shaw, Miss Sophie Foote, and myself, devolved the duty

of starting nurses' homes and trainingschools, canteens, laboratories, and distribution centres where the profughi and the families of the men at the front could receive shelter, clothes, food, and medical care, and where the soldiers themselves in passing through the cities on their way to and from the front would find warmth, nourishment, and comfort to speed them on their way.

Our days were filled to overflowing with difficult but no less exalting service, and never were we so busy but what our hearts responded to the misery that lay all about us. The only light shining through the darkness was the knowledge of America's victorious purpose and the inspiration of Italy's brave sons fighting on at the front. Tragedy after tragedy unfolded before us, and yet we always found a smile behind the tears, for the Italians are a resilient people. There were the three gentlewomen "grandma," "mama," and "daughter" who had fled Treviso, now occupied by the Austrians. The daughter had carried on her back in a basket, the entire way, bits of terra cotta and other sacred souvenirs of a bygone contentment. These they arranged deftly about the small though airy room which we were able to place at their disposal. And here all day long the old grandmother, her white hair gleaming like silver threads under her black lace cap, leaned over the balcony, an ineffable longing in her faded eyes, as her gaze projected itself beyond the blue hills of Sorrento, far away to the home she had left behind. In passing I always asked, "What are you thinking about to-day, grandma?"

Invariable was her answer: "When shall I see my home in Treviso. Signora, when am I going back?"

The devotion of these three to one another had its humor-the humor that strikes close to the border-line of pathos. "Daughter," who was at least fifty, was in constant fear that "mama" who was seventy, should hear something "upsetting," while "mama" was every whit as solicitous that "grandma," who confessed to ninety-two, should be kept from all disturbing news. As for "grandma"her chief concern was comforting the "children," as she called them.

Then there was old Giuseppe Varischio,

She was taken from the train as soon as it arrived in Naples and placed in a hospital, where her life was despaired of. We gave old Giuseppe a room in which there were two cots. Here, all day long, he looked out of the window, the tears

theirs was the true love which passeth all misunderstanding.

When we told him that she was to come home, he was overjoyed. He went about the room, murmuring in caressing tones "Cara mia! Cara mia!" while he