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Chapter 7 Exercises Solutions

7.1
milliseconds
1000 ms× 60 s× 60 min× 24 h× 365 days = 31,536,000,000
year
9,223,372,036,854,775,807
1970 + = 292,473,178
31,536,000,000

Assuming there is a leap day every 4 years, except at the turn of the
century unless the year is also divisible by 400, there are 365.2425
days in a year.
milliseconds
1000 ms× 60 s× 60 min× 24 h× 365.2425days = 31,556,952,000
year

9,223,372,036,854,775,807
1970 + = 292,278,994
31,556,952,000

7.2 n2

7.3 n log n

7.4 n2

7.5 2n

7.6
cube volume: O(n3)
cube surface area: 6(n*n) = O(n2)
cylinder volume: πn2*n = O(n3)
cylinder surface area: 2*πn2+2πn*n= O(n2)
7.7
 (log10 n )
log10 n log 2 n
log 2 n = =
log10 2 c

 (log e n )
log e n log e n
log10 n = =
log e 10 c

7.8 With the assumption that f  (g ) we can deduce that

(max( f , g )) = ( f ) with this same assumption we can deduce that
( f + g ) = ( f ) and from this we know that (max( f , g ) = ( f + g ) .

7.9 add() roughly performs one operation per bit. If the BigInteger
grows extremely large, the add() method call will not take
constant time. It will be linear time depending on the number of
bits in each number we are adding.

7.10 We can assume that Math.random() takes constant time since it

does not involve r or s. We can also deduce that swap is constant
time. With this an analysis of each operation yields
c + cn + c(n − 1) + c(n − 1)  (n) where n=rs and therefore (rs ) .

7.11 Using the ArrayList change from Exercise 5.8 we have an

ArrayList constructor that take a capacity.
public ArrayStack(int capacity) {
data = (E[])(new Object[capacity]);
size = 0;
}

We also create a GoFishHand constructor to call this:

public GoFishHand(int capacity) {
super(capacity);
}

The maximum number of card possible in a hand is 3 of a kind of

all 13 ranks. There can be one more in our had right before we
meld. This gives us a total of 40 possible cards in our hand. The
 GoFish contructor can be changed to the following:
public GoFish() {
computerScore = 0;
playerScore = 0;
deck = new Deck();
deck.shuffle();
computerHand = new GoFishHand(40);
playerHand = new GoFishHand(40);
for (int i = 0; i < 7; i++) {
playerHand.add(deck.deal());
computerHand.add(deck.deal());
}

This way we guarantee that the stretch() method is never called in

the add() method meaning it is guaranteed to be constant time.

7.12 We know that the first loop runs n times and the next most
inner loop n n + 1 . From there we can count the next most inner
2
 n + 1  n + 2 
loop and deduce that it runs n   times. Finally looking at
 2  3 
the pattern we can quickly guess the last loop runs
 n + 1  n + 2  n + 3 
n    . From this we can see that n is multiplied
 2  3  4 
together 4 times to render sum4d() Θ(n4).

7.13  i 1  = 3.5

6

6i =1

7.14 This assumes  i = ( i ) which is rarely true. In this case

2 2

6
1
 i   = 15.16 and 3.5 = 12.25.
2 2
i =1 6

7.15 All of the operations are Θ(1).

Other documents randomly have
different content
picturesque caiques skimmed the waters like magic craft, and Miss
Nightingale was fortunate in seeing the gorgeous flotilla of the
Sultan, consisting of large caiques brilliantly decorated with gilded
and rich silken hangings, and manned by gaily dressed oarsmen,
leave the marble staircase of the Dolmabatchke Palace to convey
the Sultan and his suite to the Mosque of Sultan Mahomet, for it was
Friday, the Turkish Sunday. Fifty guns proclaimed the departure of
the nautical procession. Then Kullali was passed, and the voyagers
thought sadly of the young sister who had recently died there at her
post in the hospital. On went the vessel, past the Sweet Waters of
Asia, where the Turks hold high festival, and the resorts of Therapia
and Buyukdére, until at length the dazzling Oriental coast was
almost lost to view as the ship entered the Black Sea.
However, Miss Nightingale’s delight in the sights and scenes
through which she was passing did not render her oblivious to her
fellow-passengers. There were six hundred soldiers on board and
many officers and Government officials. The second day of the
voyage, being Sunday, Miss Nightingale, accompanied by the
captain, visited the lower deck and talked with the soldiers, and
having heard that there were some invalids on board, asked to see
them. In passing from sufferer to sufferer, she at length came to a
fever patient who had refused to take his medicine.
“Why will you not take the medicine?” asked Miss Nightingale.
“Because I took some once,” the man replied, “and it made me
sick; and I haven’t liked physic ever since.”
“But if I give it to you myself,” said the Queen of Nurses with a
pleasant smile, “you will take it, won’t you?”
The poor fellow looked very hard at her and replied, “Well, sure
enough, ma’am, it will make me sick just the same.” However, he
took the draught and forgot the anticipated consequence as Miss
Nightingale chatted to him about the last engagement he was in.
The distant booming of the cannon in Sebastopol intimated to
the travellers that they were nearing their destination, and on one of
the high peaked mountains they could plainly see the Russian picket
mounting guard. An hour later the vessel reached the harbour of
Balaclava, which presented a wonderful sight with the numerous
great ships lying at anchor. The news had spread that Miss
Nightingale was expected to arrive that day, and the decks of the
vessels in harbour were crowded with people anxious to get a
glimpse of her. Immediately the Robert Lowe came to anchor, the
chief medical officer of the Balaclava Hospital and other doctors and
officials came on board to welcome Miss Nightingale, and for an
hour she held what her fellow-voyager, M. Soyer, facetiously termed
“a floating drawing-room.” Later, Lord Raglan, Commander-in-Chief
of the British forces, came to welcome the illustrious heroine, but
only to find that she had already landed and begun her work of
hospital inspection.
Next day, Miss Nightingale, accompanied by Mr. Bracebridge, M.
Soyer, and an escort of other friends, set out for the camp to return
Lord Raglan’s visit. She “was attired simply in a genteel amazone, or
riding-habit,” relates M. Soyer, “and had quite a martial air. She was
mounted upon a very pretty mare, of a golden colour, which, by its
gambols and caracoling, seemed proud to carry its noble charge.
The weather was very fine. Our cavalcade produced an
extraordinary effect upon the motley crowd of all nations assembled
at Balaclava, who were astonished at seeing a lady so well
escorted.”
The people did not, however, know how illustrious the lady was,
for Miss Nightingale preserved an incognito on her way to the camp.
At that time there were only four ladies in the Crimea, excepting the
sisters of mercy, who were never seen out, so there was great
curiosity as the cavalcade approached headquarters to know who
the lady was, and Mr. Bracebridge had to give evasive replies to
enquiring officers.
Florence Nightingale’s ride to camp proved an adventurous one.
The road was bad and not nearly wide enough for all the traffic.
Crowds of many nationalities, together with a ceaseless stream of
mules, horses, oxen, artillery waggons, cannon, infantry, and cavalry
struggled over the uneven muddy road, drivers and officers shouting,
horses kicking, sometimes a waggon overturned, and everybody in a
state of turmoil. Miss Nightingale’s horse kicked and pranced in
company with the horses of her escort, and but for a cool nerve and
steady hand she would certainly have come to grief. But the skill in
horsemanship which she had acquired as a girl amongst the hills
and dales of Derbyshire now served her in good stead, and the ride
was accomplished in safety.
The first halt was made at the hospital in a small Greek church at
the village of Kadikoi. After a little tour of inspection Miss Nightingale
and her party galloped up to the top of a high hill from which was
visible a panorama of the camp, with its myriads of white tents dotted
over the landscape. Now, indeed, she was in touch with that great
bivouac of warfare which the wounded at the Barrack Hospital in
Scutari had raved about in their fever wanderings. Upon the air came
the roar of the cannon from Sebastopol, the sound of trumpets, the
beating of drums, and the general din of military manœuvres. Around
the martial plain rose the rugged heights of Balaclava with that valley
of death sacred to the “noble six hundred”:—

Stormed at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.

Florence Nightingale sat long on her horse, gazing afar at the

stirring scene and then turned sadly away. She knew that hundreds
of poor fellows away in yonder trenches were doomed to swell the
ranks of the dead and wounded ere the siege of Sebastopol was
ended.
Proceeding on her way to headquarters, Miss Nightingale called
to inspect several of the small regimental hospitals. When at length
the vicinity of Lord Raglan’s house was reached, Mr. Bracebridge,
acting as advance guard, galloped forward, to announce the
approach of the Lady-in-Chief, only to find, however, that the
Commander-in-Chief, who had not received intimation of her coming,
was away. Miss Nightingale having left a message of thanks to Lord
Raglan for his visit of the previous day, now proceeded to the
General Hospital before Sebastopol.
This hospital contained some hundreds of sick and wounded,
and great was the joy of the poor fellows at receiving a visit from the
“good lady of Scutari,” as they called Miss Nightingale. When she
went out past the huts to the cooking encampment, some of the men
who had been patients at the Barrack Hospital recognised Miss
Nightingale and gave her three hearty cheers, followed by three
times three. She was much affected by such an unexpected
demonstration, and being on horseback could only bow to the men
by way of thanks. The shouts grew so vociferous that Miss
Nightingale’s horse turned restive, and one of her friends was
obliged to dismount and lead it by the bridle until the men’s
enthusiasm had abated.
The party now proceeded through the French and English
camps which surrounded Sebastopol. Miss Nightingale expressed a
wish to have a peep into the besieged stronghold, and a column was
formed to escort her to a convenient point. Some sharp firing was
going on, and as the visitors approached a sentry in much
trepidation begged them to dismount, pointing to the shot and shell
lying around, and remarking that a group of people would attract the
enemy to fire in their direction. Miss Nightingale laughingly
consented to seek the shelter of a stone redoubt where she could
view Sebastopol through a telescope. From this vantage ground she
obtained an excellent sight of the doomed city, being able to discern
the principal buildings and to see the duel of shot proceeding
between the allied armies and the enemy.
Miss Nightingale was in an adventurous mood, and proposed to
go still farther into the trenches up to the Three-Mortar Battery. Her
friends Mr. Bracebridge, Dr. Anderson, and M. Soyer were
favourable to her wish, but the sentry was in a great state of
consternation.
“Madam,” said he, “if anything happens I call on these gentlemen
to witness that I did not fail to warn you of the danger.”
 “My good young man,” replied Miss Nightingale, “more dead and
wounded have passed through my hands than I hope you will ever
see in the battlefield during the whole of your military career; believe
me, I have no fear of death.”
The party proceeded and, arrived at the battery, obtained a near
view of Sebastopol. M. Soyer was in his most volatile mood, and
relates that the following incident occurred: “Before leaving the
battery, I begged Miss Nightingale as a favour to give me her hand,
which she did. I then requested her to ascend the stone rampart next
the wooden gun carriage, and lastly to sit upon the centre mortar, to
which requests she very gracefully and kindly acceded.” Having thus
unsuspectedly beguiled Miss Nightingale into this position, the
irrepressible Frenchman boldly exclaimed:
“Gentlemen, behold this amiable lady sitting fearlessly upon that
terrible instrument of war! Behold the heroic daughter of England—
the soldier’s friend!” All present shouted “Bravo! Hurrah! hurrah!
Long live the daughter of England.”
When later Lord Raglan was told of this incident, he remarked
that the battery mortar ought to be called “the Nightingale mortar.”
While in that elevated position the heroine was recognised by
the 39th Regiment, and the men set up such ringing cheers as
wakened echoes in the caves of Inkerman and startled the Russians
in Sebastopol.
The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon and shadows
to gather over the trenches and fortifications of the besieged city
when Miss Nightingale started on the return journey. She and her
party, proceeding at a sharp gallop through the camps, were
overtaken by darkness when only half-way back to Balaclava, and
losing their way, found themselves in a Zouave camp, where the
men were drinking coffee and singing their favourite African song.
They informed the travellers that brigands were roaming about, and
that it was dangerous to take the road after nightfall. However,
brigands or not, there was nothing for it but to push on down the
deep ravine which now faced them. The road was so steep and
slippery that one of the gentlemen dismounted to lead Miss
Nightingale’s horse by the bridle. When they halted to water the
horses, this gentleman received a severe blow in the face by coming
in sharp contact in the dark with the head of Miss Nightingale’s
steed. He concealed the injury, though his face was streaming with
blood and his eyes blackened, until they reached Balaclava hospital,
when the Queen of Nurses returned his kind attention by helping to
dress his wounds. Proceeding to the harbour, she retired to her state
cabin on the Robert Lowe, and so ended Florence Nightingale’s
adventurous visit to the camp hospitals before Sebastopol.
 CHAPTER XVIII
STRICKEN BY FEVER

Continued Visitation of Hospitals—Sudden Illness—Conveyed to

Sanatorium—Visit of Lord Raglan—Convalescence—Accepts
Offer of Lord Ward’s Yacht—Returns to Scutari—Memorial to
Fallen Heroes.

Know how sublime a thing it is

To suffer and be strong.
Longfellow.

N OTHING daunted by the fatiguing journey to the camp

hospitals at headquarters related in the last chapter, Miss
Nightingale, although she was feeling indisposed, set out the next
morning to visit the General Hospital at Balaclava and the
Sanatorium. She was accompanied by the ubiquitous M. Soyer, who
was carrying out his culinary campaign at the Crimean hospitals, and
attended by her faithful boy Thomas.
After spending several hours inspecting the wards of the General
Hospital, Miss Nightingale proceeded to the Sanatorium, a collection
of huts perched on the Genoese heights nearly eight hundred feet
above the sea. She was escorted by Mr. Bracebridge, Dr.
Sutherland, and a sergeant’s guard. The weather was intensely hot,
as is usual in the Crimea during the month of May, and the journey,
following on the fatigue of the previous day, proved a trying one.
Half-way up the heights, Miss Nightingale stopped to visit a sick
officer in one of the doctor’s huts, and afterwards proceeded to
inspect the Sanatorium.
 She returned to Balaclava, and next day went to install three
nurses in the Sanatorium; and on her way up again visited the invalid
officer in his lonely hut. During the succeeding days she continued
her inspection of the hospitals in Balaclava, and also removed her
quarters to the London, as the Robert Lowe, in which she sailed,
was ordered home.
It was when on board the London, while she was transacting
business with one of her nursing staff, that Miss Nightingale was
suddenly seized with alarming illness. The doctors pronounced it to
be the worst form of Crimean fever, and ordered that she should be
immediately taken up to the Sanatorium. She was laid on a stretcher,
and tenderly carried by sad-eyed soldiers through Balaclava and up
the mountain side amid general consternation. Her own private
nurse, Mrs. Roberts, attended her, a friend held a large white
umbrella to protect her face from the glaring sun, and poor Thomas,
the page-boy, who had proudly called himself “Miss Nightingale’s
man,” followed his mistress, crying piteously. So great was the
lamenting crowd that it took an hour to get the precious burden up to
the heights. A hut was selected near a small stream, the banks of
which were gay with spring flowers, and there for the next few days
Florence Nightingale lay in a most critical condition, assiduously
nursed by Mrs. Roberts and attended by Drs. Henderson and
Hadley.
It seemed strange to every one that Miss Nightingale, after
passing unscathed through her hard labours at Scutari, when she
had been in daily contact with cholera and fever, should have
succumbed to disease at Balaclava, but the fatigues of the past
days, undertaken during excessive heat, accounted largely for the
seizure, and some of her friends thought also that she had caught
infection when visiting the sick officer on her way up to the
Sanatorium.
Alarmist reports quickly spread, and at Balaclava it was currently
reported that Florence Nightingale was dying. The sad tidings were
told at the Barrack Hospital at Scutari amidst the most pathetic
scenes. The sick men turned their faces to the wall and cried like
children. The news in due time reached London, and the leading
articles in the papers of the time show that the public regarded the
possible death of our heroine as a great national calamity. Happily
the suspense was brief, and following quickly on the mournful tidings
came the glad news that the worst symptoms were passed, and that
in all human probability the precious life would be spared.
Miss Nightingale, in a touching bit of autobiography, attributes
her first step towards convalescence to the joy caused on receiving a
bunch of wild-flowers.
During the time that Miss Nightingale lay in her hut on the
Genoese heights, some very sharp skirmishes were taking place
between the allied troops and the enemy, and it was reported that
the Russians were likely to attack Balaclava by the Kamara side.
Miss Nightingale’s hut being the nearest to that point, would, in the
event of such a plan being carried out, have been the first to be
attacked. Thomas, the page boy, constituted himself guard of his
beloved mistress and was ready to die valiantly in her defence. It
would, however, be an injustice to the Russian troops to imply that
they would knowingly have harmed even a hair of Florence
Nightingale’s head. Her person was sacred to friend and foe alike.
Lord Raglan was deeply concerned at Miss Nightingale’s illness,
and as soon as he heard from the doctors in attendance that he
might visit her, rode over from headquarters for the purpose. Mrs.
Roberts, the nurse, thus related to M. Soyer the account of the
Commander-in-Chief’s unexpected call:—
“It was about five o’clock in the afternoon when he came. Miss
Nightingale was dozing, after a very restless night. We had a storm
that day, and it was very wet. I was in my room sewing when two
men on horseback, wrapped in large gutta-percha cloaks and
dripping wet, knocked at the door. I went out, and one inquired in
which hut Miss Nightingale resided.
“He spoke so loud that I said, ‘Hist! Hist! don’t make such a
horrible noise as that, my man,’ at the same time making a sign with
both hands for him to be quiet. He then repeated his question, but
not in so loud a tone. I told him this was the hut.
 “‘All right,’ said he, jumping from his horse, and he was walking
straight in when I pushed him back, asking what he meant and
whom he wanted.
“‘Miss Nightingale,’ said he.
“‘And pray who are you?’
“‘Oh, only a soldier,’ was the reply; ‘but I must see her—I have
come a long way—my name is Raglan—she knows me very well.’
 FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE AS A GIRL.
(From the drawing by her sister, Lady Verney.)
 [To face p. 208.

“Miss Nightingale overhearing him, called me in, saying, ‘Oh!

Mrs. Roberts, it is Lord Raglan. Pray tell him I have a very bad fever,
and it will be dangerous for him to come near me.’
“‘I have no fear of fever or anything else,’ said Lord Raglan.
“And before I had time to turn round, in came his lordship. He
took up a stool, sat down at the foot of the bed, and kindly asked
Miss Nightingale how she was, expressing his sorrow at her illness,
and thanking and praising her for the good she had done for the
troops. He wished her a speedy recovery, and hoped that she might
be able to continue her charitable and invaluable exertions, so highly
appreciated by every one, as well as by himself.
“He then bade Miss Nightingale good-bye, and went away. As he
was going out, I said I wished ‘to apologize.’
“‘No! no! not at all, my dear lady,’ said Lord Raglan; ‘you did very
right; for I perceive that Miss Nightingale has not yet received my
letter, in which I announced my intention of paying her a visit to-day
—having previously inquired of the doctor if she could be seen.’”
Miss Nightingale became convalescent about twelve days after
her seizure, and the doctors were urgent that she should
immediately sail for England. This our heroine steadfastly declined to
do, feeling that her mission was not accomplished, and that she
could not desert her post. Although in a state of extreme weakness
and exhaustion, she felt that time would accomplish her recovery,
and she decided to return in the meantime to Scutari, with the
intention of coming back to the Crimea to complete her work.
A berth was arranged for her in the Jura, and Miss Nightingale
was brought down from the Sanatorium upon a stretcher carried by
eight soldiers and accompanied by Dr. Hadley, Mrs. Roberts (the
nurse), several Sisters of Charity and other friends. When the
procession reached the Jura, tackle was attached to the four corners
of the stretcher, and the invalid was thus swung on deck by means of
pulleys. She was carefully carried to the chief cabin, and it was
hoped that she would now accomplish the voyage in comfort.
Unfortunately, a disagreeable smell was discovered to pervade the
Jura, caused by a number of horses which had recently been landed
from it, and shortly after being brought aboard Miss Nightingale
fainted. The page Thomas was dispatched to recall Dr. Hadley, who,
when he arrived, ordered that the illustrious patient should at once
be conveyed to another vessel.
Miss Nightingale was temporarily taken to the Baraguay
a’Hilliers, until an order could be procured from the admiral for
another vessel.
Meantime Lord Ward, afterwards Earl of Dudley and father of the
present Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, who had been active in sending
help to the sick and wounded, heard with great concern of the
inconvenience, and indeed danger to life, which Miss Nightingale
was suffering, and at once offered her the use of his yacht, the New
London, to take her to Scutari. Lord Ward further arranged that the
yacht should be at her entire disposal, and no one should be on
board except his medical man and those whom she chose to take
with her. Miss Nightingale was pleased to accept Lord Ward’s offer,
and she was accordingly conveyed to the yacht, and established in
great ease and comfort. Besides her personal attendants Miss
Nightingale was accompanied by Mr. Bracebridge and M. Soyer.
Before her departure Lord Raglan visited Miss Nightingale on
board the New London, but little did she think that in a few short
weeks the brave commander would have passed to the great
majority. He had shown himself most sympathetic to her mission to
the East, and had received her letters in regard to reforms in the
hospitals with attention, while in his dispatches to the Government
he had paid the highest tribute to the value of her work amongst the
sick soldiers. During the period of Miss Nightingale’s convalescence,
he sent frequent inquiries after her health.
Meantime, Lord Raglan’s difficulties as Commander-in-Chief of
the British forces were daily increasing. On June 18th, 1855, the
allied armies were to make the general assault on Sebastopol. Lord
Raglan had proposed to preface the assault by a two hours’
cannonade to silence the guns remounted by the enemy during the
night, but Pélissier, the French commander, pressed for an
immediate attack at daybreak, and Lord Raglan yielded rather than
imperil the alliance. The result was disastrous, ending in the terrible
assault and repulse of the British troops at the Redan. The
Commander-in-Chief felt the failure deeply, and it was to announce
this defeat that he wrote his last dispatch to the Government, June
26th. On the 28th he breathed his last, worn out and disheartened by
the gigantic task with which he had been called to grapple.
Miss Nightingale, in her own weakened condition, was deeply
affected by Lord Raglan’s death. He was a man of charming and
benevolent disposition, and thoroughly straightforward in all his
dealings. Wellington described him as “a man who wouldn’t tell a lie
to save his life.” He had served under that great commander during
half his career, and was proud to the last, when he had to contend
with much adverse criticism, that he had enjoyed the confidence of
Wellington.
Lord Raglan was blamed for not visiting the camps during the
earlier stages of the Crimean war and ascertaining the condition of
his soldiers, whereby much of the sickness and misery might have
been obviated, but his biographers say that this charge, though not
groundless, was exaggerated. Lord Raglan was a rough and ready
soldier, who disliked ostentation, and in this way many of his visits to
the camp passed almost unnoticed. The impromptu call which he
made at Miss Nightingale’s hut, already related, was thoroughly
characteristic of Lord Raglan’s methods.
Miss Nightingale returned to Scutari a little more than a month
after she had left for the Crimea, and was received on landing by
Lord William Paulet, Commandant, Dr. Cumming, Inspector-General,
and Dr. Macgregor, Deputy-Inspector. Lord Stratford de Redcliffe, the
Ambassador, offered her the use of the British Palace at Pera, but
Miss Nightingale preferred to use the house of the chaplain, the Rev.
Mr. Sabin, and there she made a good recovery under the care of
solicitous friends.
 Often in these days of returning strength she would stroll
beneath the trees of the cemetery of Scutari, where so many of our
brave men lay. It is situated on a promontory high above the sea,
with a fine outlook over the Bosphorus. Flowers planted by loving
hands were decking the graves of many of her friends who had
passed away during the winter, and the grasses had begun to wave
above the deep pits where the soldiers lay in a nameless grave.
During these walks Miss Nightingale gathered a few flowers here, a
bunch of grasses there, and pressed and dried them, to keep in
loving memory of the brave dead. They eventually formed part of a
collection of Crimean mementoes which she arranged after her
return home to Lea Hurst.
This burying-ground was really a portion of the ancient cemetery
of Scutari, the most sacred and celebrated in the Ottoman Empire.
Travellers have described the weird effect of the dense masses of
cypress-trees, which bend and wave over three miles of
unnumbered tombs, increasing each year in extent. The Turks never
disturb their dead, and regard a burying-ground with great
veneration, hence the ancient and yet modern character of the
Scutari cemetery, and the great extent of the graves over the wide
solitude. So thick are the cypress-trees that even the Oriental sun
does not penetrate their shade. Byron has described the scene as—

The place of thousand tombs

That shine beneath, while dark above
The sad but living cypress glooms
And withers not, though branch and leaf
Are stamped by an eternal grief.

According to a poetic legend, myriads of strange birds hover over the

tombs, or flit noiselessly from the Black Sea to the fairer one of
Marmora, when they turn and retrace their flight. These birds have
never been known to stop or feed, and never heard to sing. They
have a dark plumage, in unison with the sombre cypress-trees over
which they incessantly flit. When there is a storm on the Bosphorus,
they send up sharp cries of agony. The Turks believe that the weird
birds are condemned souls who have lived an evil life in this world,
and are not permitted to rest in a tomb, and so in a spirit of unrest
they wander over the tombs of others. One of the most beautiful
monuments in the vast cemetery is the one which marks the grave of
Sultan Mahmoud’s favourite horse.
The Turkish Government gave a piece of ground adjacent to the
sacred cemetery to serve as a burying-place for the British soldiers
who fell in the Crimea. And it was at the instance of Miss Nightingale
that a memorial was erected there to the fallen heroes. She started
the scheme during her period of convalescence at Scutari, and it
was completed after the conclusion of the war. Some four thousand
British soldiers lie in the cemetery, and in the midst of the nameless
graves rises a gleaming column of marble. The shaft is supported by
four angels with drooping wings. On each side of the base is
inscribed in four different languages:—
“THIS MONUMENT WAS ERECTED BY
QUEEN VICTORIA
AND HER PEOPLE.”
 CHAPTER XIX
CLOSE OF THE WAR

Fall of Sebastopol—The Nightingale Hospital Fund—A Carriage

Accident—Last Months in the Crimea—“The Nightingale
Cross”—Presents from Queen Victoria and the Sultan—Sails for
Home.

How many now are left of those whose serried ranks

Were first to land on Eupatoria’s hostile shore;
Who rushed victoriously up the Alma’s banks,
And won the primal honours of that mighty war?

Theirs were the fadeless laurels!—yet not theirs alone,

Who bore the stern privations of that Eastern camp:—
Scutari’s coronet of glory is thine own,
O Florence Nightingale, dear
Lady with the Lamp.
Major A. St. John Seally.

T HE autumn of 1855 brought the final act in the great drama of

the Crimean War. On the morning of September 8th the allied
armies before Sebastopol were ready for the final assault. The day
dawned gloriously, and by five o’clock the guards were on the march
for the besieged city, and troops from all quarters pressed silently in
the same direction. The supreme moment had come; the long
tension of the siege was broken, and each man braced him to the
fight and looked for death or glory.
The elements seemed to voice the situation. A brilliant sky gave
the promise of victory, then suddenly changed to storm-clouds which
burst in a furious tempest as the batteries opened fire upon the
doomed city. The earth groaned and shook with the noise of cannon
and the air was filled with the rattle of musketry. An hour elapsed,
and then came the first shouts of victory. The French allies had
captured the Malakhoff and the British had taken the Redan, the fort
which three months before had repulsed the attacking force with
fearful carnage and brought Lord Raglan to a despairing death. The
fight raged fiercely until nightfall and ere another day dawned the
Russians had retreated, leaving Sebastopol in flames.
On the morning of September 9th the tidings spread far and wide
that the mighty stronghold had fallen and the power of the enemy
was broken. The news was received in London with a universal
outburst of rejoicing. The Tower guns proclaimed the victory, every
arsenal fired its salute, and the joy-bells rang from cathedral minster
to the humblest village church as the tidings spread through the land.
The long night of War was over, and white-robed Peace stood on the
threshold.
With the plaudits that rang through the land in honour of the
victorious armies, the name of Florence Nightingale was mingled on
every hand. The nation was eager to give our heroine a right royal
welcome home, but she sought no great ovation, no public
demonstration, and her home-coming was not to be yet. The war
had ended, but the victims still remained in hospital ward and lonely
hut, and as long as the wounded needed her care Florence
Nightingale would not leave her post.
Meanwhile, however, the Queen and all classes of her people
were eager to give proof of the nation’s gratitude to the noble woman
who had come to the succour of the soldiers in their dire need. Mr.
and Mrs. Sidney Herbert were approached on the matter by Mrs.
S. C. Hall as to what form of testimonial would, be most acceptable
to Miss Nightingale, and Mrs. Herbert replied:—

“49, Belgrave Square,

July, 1855.
“Madam,—
 “There is but one testimonial which would be accepted
by Miss Nightingale.
“The one wish of her heart has long been to found a hospital
in London and to work it on her own system of unpaid nursing,
and I have suggested to all who have asked for my advice in this
matter to pay any sums that they may feel disposed to give, or
that they may be able to collect, into Messrs. Coutts’ Bank,
where a subscription list for the purpose is about to be opened,
to be called the ‘Nightingale Hospital Fund,’ the sum subscribed
to be presented to her on her return home, which will enable her
to carry out her object regarding the reform of the nursing
system in England.”

A Committee to inaugurate such a project was formed. It was

presided over by His Royal Highness the late Duke of Cambridge,
and included representatives of all classes. The Hon. Mr. Sidney
Herbert and Mr. S. C. Hall acted as honorary secretaries, and the
latter summarised the variety of interests represented when he
described the Committee as having “three dukes, nine other
noblemen, the Lord Mayor, two judges, five right honourables,
foremost naval and military officers, physicians, lawyers, London
aldermen, dignitaries of the Church, dignitaries of Nonconformist
Churches, twenty members of Parliament, and several eminent men
of letters.” While no state party was omitted, none was unduly
prominent. It was resolved by the Committee to devote the money
subscribed to the Nightingale Fund to founding an institute for the
training, sustenance, and protection of nurses and hospital
attendants, to embrace the paid and the unpaid, for whom a home
should be provided and a retreat for old age. A copy of the resolution
was forwarded to Miss Nightingale at Scutari and she replied to Mrs.
Herbert in the following letter:—
“Exposed as I am to be misinterpreted and misunderstood, in a
field of action in which the work is new, complicated, and distant from
many who sit in judgment on it, it is indeed an abiding support to
have such sympathy and such appreciation brought home to me in
the midst of labours and difficulties all but overpowering. I must add,
however, that my present work is such I would never desert for any
other, so long as I see room to believe that which I may do here is
unfinished. May I then beg you to express to the Committee that I
accept their proposals, provided I may do so on their understanding
of this great uncertainty as to when it will be possible for me to carry
it out?”
The gift, indeed, gave Florence Nightingale a further task to
perform on her return home, but as Mr. Sidney Herbert said: “Miss
Nightingale looks to her reward from this country in having a fresh
field for her labours, and means of extending the good that she has
already begun. A compliment cannot be paid dearer to her heart
than in giving her more work to do.”
A public meeting was held at Willis’s Rooms on November 29th,
1855, to inaugurate the scheme. It was presided over by the Duke of
Cambridge and addressed by the venerable Lord Lansdowne, Sir
John Pakington (Lord Hampton), Monckton-Milnes (Lord Houghton),
Lord Stanley (Earl of Derby), the Lord Mayor, the Marquis of Ripon,
Rev. Dr. Cumming, and Dr. Gleig, the Chaplain-General. All paid
eloquent tributes to the work accomplished by Miss Nightingale, but
the most touching incident of the meeting was when Mr. Sidney
Herbert read a letter from a friend who said: “I have just heard a
pretty account from a soldier describing the comfort it was even to
see Florence pass. ‘She would speak to one and another,’ he said,
‘and nod and smile to many more, but she could not do it to all, you
know, for we lay there by hundreds; but we could kiss her shadow as
it fell, and lay our heads on the pillow again content.’” That story
brought £10,000 to the Nightingale Fund, and the soldier who had
related it out of the fulness of his heart must have felt a proud man.
Public meetings in aid of the scheme were held during the
ensuing months in all the principal cities and towns throughout the
kingdom, and also in all parts of the Empire, including India and the
colony in China. Never, I believe, has the work of any British subject
been so honoured and recognised in every part of our vast
dominions as that of Florence Nightingale.
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