For Big Bullskin Creek

Far from the mountains of Kentucky lie the West Indies, yet when S. S. Belgen-land steams south Feb. 25 with a load of tourists, the mountains will benefit more than the islands. Last week Manhattan debutantes--from such families as Zabriskie, Auchincloss, Havemeyer,

Truesdale, Delafield--were joining in to publicize the cruise by promoting a shipboard dance Jan. 7. The venture is to raise money for an organization called Frontier Nursing Service Inc. Among the cruisers will be a dynamic, well-born Kentucky lady who became a nurse and midwife to carry medical care to one of the last U. S. frontiers.

In the mountains of Kentucky, where life is lived much as it was in the 18th Century, Religion and its handyman Charity were pioneers. In small Beverly, Ivy, a few years ago, there was an Evangelical Station, one doctor, one nurse. In Hyden (population 320) there was a Presbyterian Mission, one doctor making occasional rounds. For the most part the district got its medical care from harridan midwives and "salve doctors" who peddled strange "yarb" concoctions.

Midwifery, not taught extensively in the U. S., interested Mary Breckinridge, daughter of Grover Cleveland's Minister to Russia, granddaughter of John Cabell Breckinridge, Vice President of the U. S. with James Buchanan, great-great-granddaughter of John Breckinridge, Attorney General under Thomas Jefferson, second cousin to Lawyer Henry Breckinridge (Lindbergh baby case). Married and widowed (retaining her maiden name) Mrs. Breckinridge lost two children. In their memory she planned a Nursing Service. With experience as a registered nurse, public health worker in France in 1918 with Anne Morgan's group, student of midwifery in England, she went to work in Kentucky in 1925.

No U. S. midwives were then available; the first Frontier Nurses were all British. There are now 30, half British, the rest U. S.-born, Britishrtrained. All must be good horsewomen, registered nurses, experienced in public health work. Living in nine nursing districts, they cover 700 sq. mi. of mountain land, galloping about in trim riding habits and overseas caps, fording such streams as Greasy Fork, Hell-for-Certain and Big Bullskin Creeks, spurring ahead when they hear from a cabin window the hoarse shout: ''Come on, ma'am! My woman's mighty bad." At first the mountain people were slow in accepting help from the Frontier Nurses, suspicious of such things as vaccination until it was pointed out that the same thing was done to their hogs. Now the demand for nurses is so great that babies must be booked beforehand. In seven years 1,000 deliveries have been made without a single maternal death from pregnancy or labor.

As couriers among the nursing districts, Mrs. Breckinridge employs volunteer socialite horsewomen who come for three months each from Manhattan, Boston and elsewhere. Some of the sponsors of this week's Belgenland dance are onetime couriers. Nonsectarian, the Frontier Nursing Service receives help from local denominational stations. With a small budget ($125,000) this year, it receives a small grant from the State of Kentucky, charges nominal fees which are often paid in carrots, onions, split-bottom chairs, quilted "kivvers." For most of its funds it depends upon voluntary contributions. Mrs. Breckinridge oversees all activities from her mountain cabin, "Wendover," goes out on frequent speaking and money-raising tours.

Year ago she set out on a new horse. It was raining; she wore a blue rubber cape and hood as do her nurses. The wind blew the cape, frightened the horse. Mrs. Breckinridge hung on for three miles up Hurricane Creek. At last she rolled off, broke her ribs, her back, tore ligaments. She stayed in bed for two months, but went on managing the Frontier Nurses, by telephone.

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