casion she was in Switzerland when
she heard of the death, in Northamptonshire, of a little niece. She left
for England the same day, to go and offer her sympathy, and try to
comfort the child's mother.

"When I hear of trouble I always go at once," she used to say.

I have known her drive in her brougham to the most horrible slum in the
East End to see what she could do for a woman who had begged from her in
the street--yes, and go there again and again until she had done all
that was possible to help the sad case.

[Page Heading: ZEAL TO HELP OTHERS]

It was this burning zeal to help which sent her to Belgium and carried
her through the long dark winter there, and it was, perhaps, the same
feeling which obscured her judgment when her expedition to Russia was
contemplated. She was a delicate woman, and there did not seem to be
much scope for her services in Russia. She was not a qualified nurse,
and the distance from home, and the handicap of her ignorance of the
Russian language, would probably have prevented her organising anything
like comforts for the soldiers there as she had done in Belgium. To
those of us who loved her the very uselessness of her efforts in Russia
adds to the poignancy of the tragedy of the death which resulted from
them.

The old question arises: "To what purpose is this waste?" And the old
answer comes still to teach us the underlying meaning and beauty of what
seems to be unnecessary sacrifice: "She hath done what she could."

Indeed, that epitaph might fitly describe Miss Macnaughtan's war work.
She grudged nothing, she gave her strength, her money, her very life.
The precious ointment was poured out in the service of her King and
Country and for the Master she served so faithfully.

* * * * *

I have been looking through some notices which appeared in the press
after Miss Macnaughtan's death. Some of them allude to her wit, her
energy and vivacity, the humour which was "without a touch of cynicism";
others, to her inexhaustible spirit, her geniality, and the "powers of
sarcasm, which she used with strong reserve." Others, again, see through
to the faith and philosophy which lay behind her humour, "Scottish in
its penetrating tenderness."

In my opinion my aunt's strongest characteristic was a dazzling purity
of soul, mind, and body. She was a person whose very presence lifted the
tone of the conversation. It was impossible to think of telling her a