ation at home until the final years for boys, and
altogether for girls--I think it is more developing."

After this stay with us, she left for Sofia and the war.

Sofia 1913.

"General Tirtoff sent me a 'laisser passee' and a certificate so that
I can't be taken prisoner, and I expect to arrive to where we have
the tents in 2 or 3 days. General Tirtoff, under whose orders I am,
proposed yesterday to send me as head of a hospital which is now
stationed in Servia, but which has to be sent to Duratzo where there
has been a big battle. It will be a tremendous lot of transportation
and, though very interesting, I don't know if I should like it as
much as a small field hospital like Adrianople. Any way it all
depends on what happens at Adrianople."

Sofia 1912.

"I have just come from the Queen. She was ill and could not receive
me before. She was very, very nice--much nicer than I expected and
better looking than her pictures. It is now 3 A.M., and I am to get
up at six."

Nelka joined the division of sisters at Adrianople and took part in
the fighting to take that city. This probably was much the most
difficult and dangerous time she ever encountered. They were working
in the very front lines, in the mud and dirt and under heavy shell
fire. At one time when the shells were falling both in front and
behind their tents, and it was impossible to move the wounded, Nelka
realized that perhaps she would not come out alive. She wrote several
short goodbye notes, one of which was written to my mother, which I
reproduce here. I am grateful to think that at that critical moment
she remembered me.

Kara Youssouff. 29 February 1913.

"Dearest Veta:
We are under fire--the projectiles are going over our heads, one just
fell on the other side of our tents, and the ground is torn up before
our eyes. Perhaps we may miraculously escape--if not, goodbye.
Perhaps some one may pick this up and send it. I send you much, much
love--give my love to my friends in Petersburg, it is terrible for
the poor wounded. Love to Max. Nelka."

Here is a letter from Aunt Susie Blow to Nelka in 1913:

"Nothing I can say suggests what I feel. The picture of you with
those awful bombs bursting above you, before you, to right and left
of you and the other picture of you plunging knee deep in mud and
battling with mud and rain, as you made your way from tent to tent
will never leave me. And what pictures of horror must move in ghastly
procession in y