ing, and I never worked so hard! As there were no dressings in
the operating room I had to do quite a number somehow or other in
bed, and then it was my day to keep the ward in the afternoon."

St. Petersburg 1906.

"I am beginning to think that the 'esprit' of the sisters here, that
is most of them, is far too liberal. I get perfectly outdone with the
papers some of the sisters bring into the ward, and I quickly lay
hands upon everyone I find. There is no stemming the tide but I shall
do what I can wherever I am, for it is too stupid. The soldiers are
too uneducated."

"You say in your letter that you understand that my father's country
should be dear to me and yet you think that my mother's country might
also mean something. What I feel, understand and see in America does
not mean anything. I cannot feel as they do. What I care for most in
the world is you and Pats--that does not need to be said. As a
country, for ideas, general point of view, etc. etc., Russia and
Russians are more sympathetic and comprehensible. It is so different.
But that is as far as country goes. The real tie, as I said before,
is you and Pats."

Finally after a stay of over two years in Russia, Nelka started back
for America. But she took a round about way this time traveling first
through Russia to the Crimea and from there by boat.

Written on the train between Kharkoff and Sebastopol 1907.

"I am on my way to the Crimea--and then continue by boat to Naples. I
expect to get to Paris by the 12th or 15th and to sail at the end of
the month. What a place Moscow is. O, it is so beautiful--so old and
real Russia, so solid and so unforeign. It was fearfully cold but I
was out all the time and only had my nose frozen once. I hate, loath
and detest every foreign influence in Russia and every evidence that
there is a world outside. The Kremlin is certainly thorough in itself
and I love it. I am palpitating at the thought of seeing you so soon.
It seems to me I am just living in gulps. I feel somehow that the
privileges I have had ought to be put to something now. How will I
even put my whole self into one thing? Everything has splendid
possibilities but it is always the fearful alternative and its
possibilities. Anyway I have stopped waiting. I know there is nothing
to wait for. I can hardly believe that I have had this year--that I
have been in Russia and that it is done. Baroness Ixkull tried to
keep me to send me to the famine--but the fam