"tri)c inion flfiissionarp (ifieOical School for iiomcn .--. VELLORE, INDIA " A message from EDITH CAVELL EMERGENCY CALLS FOR RECRUITS 100.000. 000 WOMEN IN INDIA — 159 Women Doctors 200.000. 000 WOMEN IN CHINA 93 Women Doctors 50,000,000 WOMEN IN AFRICA — 15 Women Doctors 100.000. 000 Women in Moslem Lands— 20 Women Doctors THEY /VRE DYING IN iHE TRENCHES ON THE BATTLEFIELD OF MOTHERHOOD THE CAPTAIN OF YOUR SALVATION CALLS WILL YOU GO? WHY NOT? GIVE HIM VOUR REASONS REPROOUCTIO** O' '.AROe POSTS' BOARDS PLEDGED TO THE SUPPORT OF THE Union Missionary Medical School VELLORE, INDIA Woman’s American Baptist Foreign Mission Society, Ford Building, Boston, Mass. Woman’s Board of Missions, Congregational, 1 4 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. Woman’s Foreign Mission Society, Dutch Reformed Church, 25 East 22nd Street, New York City Woman’s Foreign Mission Society, United Lutheran, 844 Drexel Bldg., Philadelphia, Pa. Chairman of the Board of Governors, Rev. James L. Barton, D.D., 1 4 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. Secretary and Treasurer, Rev. W. I. Chamberlain, Ph. D., 25 East 22nd Street, New York City Note. -Other Boards in the United States and Great Britain will, it is expected, join in the support of this Medical School. Dr. McPhail of the Free Church of Scotland, has been assigned to the staff. CrusiaberS THE UNION MEDICAL SCHOOL FOR WOMEN of Compassion VELLORE, SOUTH INDIA 'If she have sent her servants in our pain. If she have fought with death and dulled his sword, If she have given back our dead to life again. And to the breast the weakling lips restored — Is it a little thing that she has wrought? Then life and death and motherhood be naught. Song of the Indian r»omen in gratitude to Lad\) Dufferin. By Rudyard Kipling. It was Kipling’s India that greeted us that day in the winter of nineteen hundred and thirteen. Palms, temples, brown faces and bodies, gorgeous colors and gor- geous odors, with heat oppres- sive and mosquitoes aggressive, gave not the slightest impresson of Christmas which was drawing near. We four pilgrims, weary of bounding billows, were glad of the glimpse of Madura and the fine missionary work of the Ameri- can Board. After Christmas on the hills with Sir Frederick and Lady Nicholson a quick descent into the steamy plains brought us to our railway journey to visit a certain “meddlesome medical mis- sionary.” We knew missionaries were meddlesome, we had heard it on the steamer from tourists, and we can verify their statements. We found these missionaries willing to go and live for a whole life time in desolate places, removed from all congenial society, in order to meddle with frightful disease, including the care of colonies of lepers, the last people in the world with whom the cheerful tourist critic cares to meddle. One woman of this remarkable group is Dr. Ida Scudder, a repre- sentative of the Scudder family, who a century ago began the work of medical missions in South India. The grandfather, sons, and now the Vellore Temple 3 grandchildren have made a contribution of one thousand years of service to this land of our allies. Dr. Ida, a graduate of Cornell Medical School, is so vs^ell known, that a letter addressed by a confiding person to “Dr. Ida, India,” was actually delivered to her in her station in Vellore. There in the Mary Taber Schell Hospital, supported by the Woman’s Board of the Dutch Reformed Church, she holds her gentle sway. Though we had never met, her warm messages of invita- tion and greeting had reached us at various points on the way. “We” were two mothers and two daughters, one a Wellesley graduate and one from Vas- sar, who were look- ing forward with keen interest to an introduction to the work of this distin- guished woman. We came down from the hill top after our de- lightful holiday week with our English friends who had given us an intelli- gent and enthusias- tic endorsement of the mission which we Dr. Ida Scudder Were tO visit. Sir Frederick Nicholson, one of the great statesmen of India, organizer of the system of agricultural banks in India, leader and developer of a system of fisheries, which promises to prevent the frightful famines of India, had known intimately the family Dr. Ida represents. We were willing to put his testimony, based on forty years in India, regarding the value of missions, and the character of missionaries against the glib testi- mony of the tourist or the under-official whose own life of dissipation is occasionally the worst difficulty against which a missionary must combat. We came down the mountain at sunset, through great plantations 4 of coffee, gay with red berries; with cinchona (quinine) planted between the rows. Gay, wickedly riotous loops and sprays of lantana killed out other growth and almost barred our path in places. The train was waiting and we went on in the halting fashion of India’s trains. Every station offered a medley of sounds and nationalities, with picturesque costumes, vivid in color. It was worth while to wake up with a jolt at the little stations and peer out at groups of men, women and children who seemed to choose night as a time for travel. The Wellesley girl remarked, “I never expected to see any women about the streets in India. I thought they were all shut up in zenanas or harems.” “Oh, no,” replied Vassar, learnedly, from her shelf opposite. ‘‘It is only the high caste women or Mohammedans who are shut up. These are evidently the common coolies or low caste people.” Just then a group of shrinking, shrouded little figures shuffled by in the wake of a gorgeous billowy male of majestic mien, who disposed of his veiled ladies in a woman’s compartment, second class, while he entered a first class cubicle. He was not an attractive gentleman with his sensual face and lips dyed scarlet with betel nut which he chewed assiduously. Large tracts of brown skin, the color of Circassian walnut appeared at intervals, only partially draped by his scant, white muslin scarf. Surmounting all was a magnificent gold and white turban made of yards of muslin which might have been unwound to complete the draping of his body. ‘‘That must be a Brahman, or at least a man of high caste and wealth,” said one mother. ‘‘The harem is evidently going a-visiting.” Then, at three o’clock, as we had begun to settle for the night, a gentle pull awakened us and a soft voice announced, “Katpadi,” (pronounced card party). Our confused, sleepy minds could not recall any such - engagement, but we tumbled out into the cool night and found ourselves alone, with piles of luggage, on a lonely plat- form in a wilderness. The train rumbled on. As we stood looking about, bewildered, another cour- teous Indian servant appeared, saying, ‘‘Salaam. . This Dr. Ida Scudder man. You come me.” We followed more brown legs > and faces and mountainous tur- bans as meekly as the group of Indian women, and climbed into Interior Vellore Temple 5 An Attractive Gateway the carriage. The moon was dying, but still cast its fretted light through feathery trees on the long road, the white unknown trail which we were to travel, to the land of our dreams. Through the silent night the lively ponies carried us, past huddles of sleeping huts, or groves of trees, or a temple or shrine. The silence was broken now and then with strange cries which Vassar and Wellesley interpreted as tigers or elephants, but which proved to be jackals, night birds and strange insects. At last through a very attractive gateway we passed into the compound of the Mary Taber Schell Hospital and were met by the lady we had come so far to see. She was very lovely in the dim light, in her soft, white gown, with the shining of her personality which has made her known and loved in two continents. She did not welcome us as strangers, but as her own kin, and assigned us to our rooms and beds, to sleep until we were called for chota hazre, “early breakfast.” The call came all too soon, but we were refreshed by the cup of coffee with toast and bananas, the regulation breakfast throughout India. This “little breakfast” is taken at six or earlier. The real substantial breakfast is at eleven o’clock, after the heavy work of the morning in school and hospital are over. In the intense heat of the tropics it is neces- sary to do one’s hardest work early, leaving mid-day for rest or writing, as the sun is extremely dangerous. The Mary Taber Schell Hospital seemed to occupy a large part of the house and all of the veranda. About the courtyard, which adjoins the back veranda of the main house, were patients resting in the open air under gay quilts. Some were sitting up and others were limping about. 6 A Ward in Vellore Hospital Sister May, an English nurse who came to the relief of Dr. Ida in a time of great need, gives some vivid bits descriptive of these hospital scenes from which w^e have culled the following : There are two large wards, one where poor patients are admitted and treated free of charge, and one for caste people who can afford to pay a little. Besides this, are one or two rooms for the wealthier patients who pay a good fee. The beds are very comfortable with wire spring mattresses, but as the Hindus are used to the floor, it is difficult to get them to remain in bed at first. They much prefer the hard floor. They feel they are being put on shelves and are very afraid of falling off. So a nurse here must never be alarmed or distressed to find her patient on the floor at the side of, or often under the bed. Each patient, unless destitute, brings either a relative or friend to look after her and cook her food. Sometimes the patient gets under and the attendant takes her place on the bed. It is no use trying to keep the wards or patients in order as we do in England — one must be resigned to the inevitable and do the best you can. But considering all things, the wards are very clean and nice. The floors are concrete and easily washed, walls are constantly whitewashed and a few nice pictures hang around. Each patient has her locker with a little white cloth on the top. The dressing-wagon is in its place and medicines in regulation order, and charts as neatly kept as in any well-regulated hospital at home. There are seventeen nurses and a night nurse at present. They are all native Christian girls, and look so nice in their pink jackets and pure white sarees. Their bare feet enable them to be quick and noise- less in their movements. / In the corner here are two Mohammedan women, “very gosha” we call them, because they are not used to public life and in their homes are shut away and see no men but those of their own household. As there was no accommodation for them in the private wards, they had to be content to share with the others, but have a screen partly round them. When their respective husbands visit them, as we have not sufficient screens, a sheet has to be tied between the beds and they get as closely as they can beneath its shadow. When the first one came in, she showed no interest in anything around, being entirely occupied with herself. Now she really shows interest in others, and expresses sympathy for their suffering. Poor women, this little experience of contact with the outer world is good for them, and I really think they enjoy it and are not sorry now that they could not be alone with them- selves. They are not too ill to take in all that goes on around. In the next bed we find an old lady who has been operated on for cataract. She is a Christian and the widow of a Christian professor, she proudly tells us — (he was a theological teacher). Her eye is better, she says; she has had a good night and very little pain, and in affectionate gratitude takes our hands and kisses them in turn. Next is a little girl of six years, convalescent after a long enteric fever. Such a dear little round face and big brown eyes. She has just had per- mission to have her ordinary dinner of curry and rice, and any of you who have had typhoid fever and milk diet for three weeks will sympathize with little Jeevamonie’s delight. She is just beginning to enjoy life. Her mother stands radiant by her side and salaams profusely. We turn to the next bed. There is a poor wee mite of four years, suffering from a bad congenital heart. She has a big body but poor little withered legs that cannot support her. The face is too old for her years — she has constant head- ache, and when asked how she is, will put her little hand to her head and tell us, “Thalai novoo,” head aching. I had one dollie left that my little consumptive patients at Dr. Barnardo’s village sent me for the black children. So it cheers this tiny suffering India sister, and I wish the little patient who dressed and paid for that dollie out of her few pence, could see the brightening eyes and loving look as the dollie is clasped in her little arms. Now we come to “Armonie,” — dear, patient Armonie; she greets us with a smiling salaam, but she is a great sufferer. She has heart disease and very bad dropsy, and has to be continually tapped to get relief. She is so responsive to any kind word and deed, and always has a smile and salaam when we pass her bed. She is, sad to say, a heathen. Her husband quite lately consulted the astrologers as to her fate, and received great consolation by being told she was to live another twenty-eight years and outlive himself by ten years. This news, he thought, would greatly cheer the doctor in her ministra- tions. After all, there is nothing like keeping the spirits up in a long illness, and “Armonie” shares her husband’s consolation in the good news. Not Wanted Babies 8 We will not stay to talk about each patient, but now pass to the private ward where there is a dear old lady, the mother of a rich Hindu who can afford to pay well for her treatment. She has had a cancer successfully removed from her cheek, and her son is desirous of making the doctor a present in expression of h’s gratitude. He would like it to be a per- sonal gift, but this the doctor objects to, and hopes he will be persuaded to support a bed. He is not quite willing for this, which he suggests another member of the family may like to do. Finally, he prom- ises a new table, badly needed in one of the operating-rooms. Leaving this ward, we peep into the operating-room as we pass. Sundram, the little matron, is busy sterilizing and getting ready for an operation later on. All is in beautiful order here and would do credit to any of our English hospitals. A bell rings, and we know it is time for prayers in the out-patients’ hall. A hymn is sung in Tamil to some bright English tune. As many as possible of the hospital staff are present and the singing is hearty. Then one of the Bible women leads in prayer and follows with a Gospel address illustrated by a large picture. The patients as a rule listen intently, and occasionally make some remarks. Here is a mother with her little girl of eight years lying on the floor wrapped up in a sheet. She opens the sheet as we approach and discloses such a pitiable object, quite blind, the poor eyes being eaten away with a horrible disease. The little face is terribly disfigured and the whole body far from a pleasant object, but the doctor says her mother loves her dearly and considers her a great treasure, and would greatly feel her loss. We feel it would be the greatest blessing for the poor little sufferer to be taken away — there is no hope and only a sad future can await it. Poor mothers, for them there is no comfort at the thought of their little ones being safely folded in the arms of the Good Shepherd. The question arises, why should a woman of Dr. Ida Scudder’s culture and brilliancy of mind and unusual preparation as a surgeon, expatriate herself and give her precious life to the relief of the women and children in the Vellore District? Why is she not in an apartment in Boston or New York or occupying a good hospital position here? Let us try to make it clear. When Ida Scudder, the daughter of a medical missionary in India, completed her education in America she had definitely decided not to be a missionary. She was willing to go out to India to visit her parents and to see the land of her birth. Then she proposed to return to America and live her own life. One morning a distinguished Hindu gentleman appeared at the Mission bungalow and requested Miss Scudder to come and see his young 9 wife who was seriously ill. She said, “You evidently wish my father. I am not a doctor. He is out on tour. I cannot help you.” But a caste woman could not see a man and the Hindu could not understand that this young woman was unable to meet his need and continued to plead with her. He told her that his girl wife was to be a mother, she was in agony and would die unless she came. But she was as helpless as any college girl in America before this need and the man went away sorrowful. Later in the day another came, a poor, low caste man, and begged A Typical Low Caste Mother her in the name of all the gods to come to his poor house to save his wife who was in a similar condition, with no one to aid. Again she refused, saying she could not, she had not been trained. That night from the Brahman quarter at one side of the town, and from the out-caste hut at the other, came the wailing for the dead. The bodies of two young wives with their little babies were carried to the burning ground. Ida Scudder had heard her call. She came back to America, entered Cornell Medical School, and returned to Vellore where she has 10 given twenty-three years of service to the women and children of Vellore and the villages for miles around. Perhaps the most unique feature of her work is the weekly trip to Gudiyatam, a large city twenty-three miles from Vellore, where a branch dispensary has been opened in a little room built back of the church. It is made in a motor given by a friend. A start is made at six in the morning with the motor packed so full with boxes of medicines and appliances that there is hardly room for herself and her assistant. The first stop is made six miles out on the wayside. A crowd is awaiting her arrival and others come hurrying in as the motor is heard. Under the shade of a tree with the motor as a dispensary the work begins. One assistant records the names and numbers on the prescription blank and receives the small fee charged. With the blank the patient passes to the doctor, who diagnoses and fills in the prescription blank. Then the dis- pensing nurse, from her stock of prepared powders and pills and stock mixtures in large bottles and ointments and liniments, dispenses medicines to fifty or sixty patients. Even the native chauffeur is impressed and applies ointments and rubs in liniments and repeats instructions as to the method of using the remedies, for at times the instructions must be repeated five or six times before the patients are satisfied. They must even be shown how to open a powder and take it lest they should swallow it paper and all ! As soon as possible a start is made for the next stopping place. Here another crowd of fifty patients with a hundred and fifty friends awaits the hospital motor about a little shelter erected by the people for the doctor to work in. From that to a third and then on to Gudiyatam, where the largest number of patients are waiting. Here even operations can be performed and more deliberate work done and instructions for a week’s treatment given. There is hardly time for a hurried lunch before the doctor is off on her return trip. This time patients are seen who have come in from the other side of the road, for they must be divided in some way. It is eight o’clock and quite dark when they get home. Thirteen to fourteen hours of intense nerve- exhausting work during which forty-six miles have been covered by road and three hundred patients treated. What wonder that the little car is garlanded with marigolds and jassamine, the love offerings of grateful hearts! Let us consider the great need. There are one hundred and fifty million women in India. Less than half of this number are more or less secluded, being high caste Hindus or Moslems. These, according to rules of caste and religion or rigid social customs, cannot be reached by any but women physicians. A few of the lower classes can, of course, be accommodated in government hospitals, which the British rule has provided. There are, however, for millions of women who cannot be reached by government hospitals, one hundred and sixty Women physi- cians. Owing to the exigencies of the climate and the extreme difficulty 11 of the work, perhaps one-quarter of these are out of India on fur- lough, leaving about one hundred in active service continuously. There is a similar group of Ameri- can and British nurses who are doing a great service in training groups of Indian girls m the hos- pitals. The supreme aim of this unit of one hundred heroic medi- cal women scattered over a coun- try larger than the United States, with people of two hundred nationalities and languages, is to establish medical schools where thou- sands of Indian girls may be trained to practice medicine for their own pedple. This is the only adequate plan. The government of India is heartily in sympathy with the proposition and has endeavored to meet the need in some of its medical schools for men. Society, however, is not ready for the education of women with men in medical schools and the experiment has been unsuccessful. The government, acknowledging the failure, now turns to the few women doctors under missionary aus- pices and urges them to proceed with their plans as with them the girls can be more or less sheltered and under high Christian and moral influ- ences during their period of medical education. One school under such auspices is established at Ludhiana in North India, a week’s journey from this city of Vellore in the south. It is a far country to these timid people and they are slow to entrust their girls to another climate and language and race so far from home. And yet, a few brave Christian girls have gone to Ludhiana, so great is the need and so eager their desire to meet it. British women have aided much in establishing this school in the north, in which Americans now have part. Lady Dufferin, during her husband’s official connection with India as Viceroy, did noble work in establishing hospitals in India, which called forth the poem by Kipling, “The Song of the Women.” But until Indian doctors and nurses are trained, even these hospitals must often be closed for lack of staff. Neither Great Britain nor America has sent anything like an adequate number even to the one hospital here and there, hundreds of miles apart. These missionary hospitals are rarely well equipped, never properly staffed, and when the one doctor drops from overwork and exhaustion the hospital closes and hope dies in the hearts of the women. Imagination fails to picture it. Millions on millions of women, hardly more than children, more than all the people in the United States, never saw a doctor or nurse. They are born, live in pain, marry at eleven or twelve, bear children, and die. Oh, the -1 i Vellore Fort 12 agony of it. There is no one to help, no one to prevent all this horror of unceasing, pitiless pain. Now that war has flashed and dinned into our imagination the awfulness of human suffering and has made us think and see and feel, possibly we shall realize what is happening in these trenches on the battlefield of motherhood throughout India, and indeed throughout the whole East. We have seen the Red Cross summon millions of hands to help, secure millions of dollars, and thousands of trained men and women with all the most modern appliances, anesthetics and miraculous surgery for our wounded and dying men. All this was not too much to do in the name of humanity and duty. Will this experi- ence help us to see and to feel this age-long agony of womanhood and childhood? WHY HAVE WE NOT KNOWN? ' A few women who have gone, when they have come home, worn out with the strain, have tried to tell us. The mission boards, whom they represent, have made a little impression, but we have been too busy, too occupied with securing the last privileges of privileged women for ourselves. It is not strange that some of these women, worn, and perhaps a little grieved over our cruel indifference to their cry, have gone back, despairing, to their life-long battle alone. There has been little literature to tell of their needs. At this moment there is in press the first history of their service, “A Crusade of Compassion,”* written by a doctor of India and an accomplished author of America. This document must be read by American college women if they would really understand in any degree the need of the world of women. We can only touch most briefly on the need in this statement. What we saw with our eyes at the front convinced us that there is no suffering so intolerable and so inexcusable as the suffering of women in non- Christian lands. Inexcusable because we are perfectly able with our resources of educated women, and money, to change these conditions immediately if we will. Is there any earthly reason why, out of the thousands of women graduated from our women’s colleges in this coun- try, scores should not be securing medical training to go out as units to *"A Crusade of Compassion” compiled by Belle J. Allen, M. A., M. D., edited by Caroline Atwater Mason. Paper 35c, postage 5c; cloth 50c, postage 7c. Order from M. H. Leavis, West Medford. Mass. 13 meet these enemies of ignorance, superstition and disease? Is there any reason why such units should not be supported and equipped by the great throngs of college women who have given themselves so superbly to Red Cross work, and who must remain in this country for various reasons. Is there any reason we can give to God or Humanity for failing to establish the few medical schools so sorely needed for Oriental women? This would be the beginning of permanent relief. It is a task worthy of American college women. The situation today in Vellore is as follows: Dr. Scudder and a small group of medical women, American and British, in South India, with the encouragement of all the medical men of South India, have gone forward in the face of insuperable obstacles and have opened a medical school for women. They have secured iivo women doctors for the faculty this opening year. Voorhees College for men, under the Dutch Reformed Board, has welcomed the girl students to its classes in science and to the use of its laboratories. The government of India has given one hundred and ten acres of land as a site for the school, and has, in spite of war and its terrific burden of debt, borne so splendidly by Great Britain, given half of the support of the school. The surgeon- general stated that if six girls applied for entrance, considering the con- servatism of India, it would be sufficient encouragement to open. When the word went out that the opportunity had come sixty-nine girls applied for entrance. Only eighteen were accepted as sufficiently advanced in education to benefit by the training in the medical school. In August, 1918, the Governor of Madras, Lord Pentland, and Lieutenant-Colonel Bryson, head of the Medical Department of Madras Presidency, opened this school. Dr. Kugler of Guntur and Dr. Ida Scudder represented the Boards of Missions. Fifty years ago Women’s Foreign Missionary Societies began the work of education for the women of India. If they had not meant that women should rise through the primary and secondary schools into col- leges and vocational schools they should not have begun teaching the alphabet in the little mud schoolhouses half a century ago. The inevi- table result has been, more education, greater ambition, a throwing off of the shackles which are so heavy in India. The Mary Taber Schell Hospital, with its splendid reputation for efficiency, built up by women physicians of the Dutch Reformed Church, has offered itself as the foundation for this medical school. It must be increased in size at the earliest possible moment in order to meet the high requirements of the British government in India. Money is needed for the enlargement of the hospital which must include one hundred and fifty beds. A bequest from the estate of Mrs. John D. Rockefeller supplies the money, fifty thousand dollars, for the first building, to be known as the Laura Spelman Rockefeller building. This will include offices, class 14 rooms and laboratories. The building will be commenced as soon as the plans are approved. In the meantime this first class is going ahead bravely in its rented house, with the very kind assistance of the faculty of the Voorhees College. Voorhees College, Vellore What is Needed? Everything! Doctors for the faculty. Nurses to train the great group of Indian girls who are ready to take such training. Equipment, from a skeleton to an X-ray and a motor ambulance; $2,500 would supply the ambulance, and $2,000 would provide the X-ray. Of this $ 1 ,000 has been pledged by a famous doctor in America. The land is not on the railroad but in the town some three miles from the railroad station. As people flock in, pleading for help, it will be necessary to have a dispensary in the center of the town to receive the incoming throngs. There is no way of transportation to the hospital except by rough, shaking, dangerous ox carts. IV ho will give an ambulance? We have not found it hard to supply many ambulances for Italy and France. Is it not possible that some of our colleges will be ready to meet this need? The dispensary is the first need. It will cost $20,000. Which college will give it? Scholarships are needed for girls who long to study and who have 15 absolutely no means to pay their traveling expenses, board and tuition and to buy the necessary books. Four hundred dollars would provide medical training for four years for one of these Indian girls. Many a college student out of her spending money could undertake the education and support of such a substitute without great self denial. Women Builders of a College in India. This is their hard lot. For buildings we need: T Tpo residences for doctors and nurses, each $8,000 A dormitory for students 25,000 A home for native nurses / 0,000 A quiet chapel, where the Great Physician, the only hope for India’s women, can impress His life and sacrifice daily through prayer and hymn and Scripture on these young apostles of healing 20,000 An operating theatre must be supplied 10,000 A good TV ell-furnished laboratory, including in the furnishings two well-equipped A-grade bacteriologists. The faculty should be increased yearly by three physicians. 16 OTHER NEEDS. Instruments, medicine, Red Cross dressings. Money to take in the little wives and mothers who flock to the gate and plead to Dr. Ida as their only savior. Twenty thousand dollar endowment for twenty beds, $1,000 each. Support of 20 native nurses, each $100 a year, $2,000. Then think of everything needed in a hospital here, and organize the students of our women’s colleges for first-aid to this Woman’s Medi- cal School of India. If only we could write these words in flame that would burn into the hearts of the students of America! You would then erase the small Preparing to Build the Walls. Will you complete them ? amounts we have asked for and would begin to prepare adequately for this great enterprise which must depend on you. We have said nothing about salaries. They are not large. Our doctors and nurses receive far less than an ordinary trained nurse or good dressmaker in this country. Six hundred to eight hundred dollars a year are the salaries, with rooms m which to live and certain allowances for travel and outfit. Not one woman, but at least a score, in every one of our women’s colleges should change immediately their courses from the cultural to the scientific and should begin to fit themselves to go out to these women in India and China and Africa who have no hope except through the richly endowed young women of Great Britain and America. 17 It must be remembered that this is not merely an humanitarian effort. This phase of internationalism, indeed the whole idea of inter- nationalism began long ago on Calvary. The Saviour of the world in- cluded a world democracy in His ideals, and in His call, which still rings down the centuries unanswered. The work of medical missions must include the humanitarian side, but it must extend far beyond that. It is a testing to go overseas with a well-equipped unit for a year or two, impelled by a great wave of patriotism. But to quote the words of Edith Cavell as she went to her death, Patriotism is not enough. We must have love," and only through that infinite love given for the life of the world is there a sufficient motive to take women like Dr. Ida Scudder and her associates out to India for a life time of heroic, self-forgetting service. It is not enough simply to care for the bodies of these women while their hearts bleed and break with no Saviour. We have thought it well in our army not only to give Red Cross aid, but to send our chap- lains and our Y. M. C. A. and our war workers to meet the spiritual need of men who face death and the loss of all that life holds dear. Will not our colleges meet the test and prepare immediately groups •. of women filled with the love of Jesus Christ, who will go humbly in the spirit of obedience and unselfishness and give their lives in this great adven- ture? They will go quietly, without uniform or decoration or parade. They will be misunderstood and misinterpreted and accused of waste of life. But we believe that knowing the need they will go, for we have found in the colleges of America, with the need of the war, the splendid heroism which Christianity had led us to expect. This will not be the work of a few in each college. Those who stay must pledge now that in the same spirit and the same Divine strength they will stand back of the units who go to bring in the new day for India’s women. Some even among you have drunk of the red wine of sacrifice of war, the cup of sorrow and suffering. With hearts broken with pain and loss surely you will listen to this cry of the women of the world, the fighters for life, the mothers of men. Margaret Deland in her story of the horror of blackness on the western front has given a new version of the sacrament of sacrifice. She tells of our boys with hearts aglow with eagerness to right an awful wrong, who have braved the seas and thrown in their gift of young life gladly. “They took the cup of sacrifice and suffering and gave thanks.” And, oh, we pray, those of us who have seen and felt, that you may take, as your Master took, this cup of fellowship with human suffering, “giving 18 thanks.” It is not in formal ritual, but in reality today, that we must drink of this cup if we would enter into communion with our Lord. Are you ready? You the best prepared, the dearest in our homes and col- leges, to meet the call from the heart of the world, as Christ met it, with your gift of life. There is no intel- lect too brilliant, no training too thor- ough, no life too valuable to be offered in this great cause. The vic- tory will be to conquer the world through love, to win Heaven for earth, and for many of you it may be to save your own souls in a great cause. Our boys have bridged the seas with their young lives in a great and holy warfare. It is one world that faces us today. “There is no more sea” to those who hear the call of human need and acknowledge the claim of a world Saviour to those who would help to “make a new heaven and a new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness.” “The tumult and the shouting dies. The Captains and the Kings depart; Still stands thine ancient sacrifice, A broken and a contrite heart. Lord God of Hosts be with us yet Lest we forget; lest we forget.” 1 The Old Fort, Vellore 19 SALAAM ssu»«*Nce •sew. no.. aosTow