Where people live close together, share yards, washhouses and staircases, too often there is no one whose business it is to supervise and govern the use of what is used in common or to see how one tenant’s conduct affects others. THE WORK. LETTER OF 1879.—I should like, in my letter this year, to note down what it appears to me you are all feeling as to the difference between the charge of a court where the people are your tenants and much other visiting among the poor. The care of tenants calls out a sense of duty founded on relationship; the work is permanent, and the definite character of much of it makes its progress marked. Have you ever asked yourselves why you have chosen the charge of courts, with all its difficulties and ties? The burthen of the problems before you has been heavy, and the regularity of the occupation has often demanded of you great sacrifices. Why have you not chosen transitory connection with hundreds of receivers of soup, or pleasant intercourse with little Sunday scholars, or visiting among the aged and bedridden, who were sure to greet you with a smile when you went to them and had no right to say a word of reproach to you about your long absences in the country? Why did you not take up district-visiting, where, if any family did not welcome you, you could just stay away? Because you preferred a work where duty was continuous and distinct and where it was mutual. Because, also, the petty annoyances brought before you at such awkward moments, with so little discretion or good-temper—the smoky chimneys, broken water-pipes, tiresome neighbours, drunken husbands—as well as the great sorrows caused by death, disease, poverty, sin, have called not only for your sympathy but for your action. From the greatest to the least, the problems have implied some duty on your part. You have each had to ask yourself, “What ought I, in my relation to the tenants, to do for them in this difficulty?” From the merest trifle of a cupboard key broken in the lock to the future of some family desolated by death, or sunk in misery through drink, _all_ has asked your sympathy, much has demanded your action. I have said the charge of tenants has been valued by you also because the duty is mutual: it implies your determination, not simply to do kindnesses with liberal hand, popular as that would be, but to meet the poor on grounds where they too have duties to you. SPIRIT OF THE WORK. LETTER OF 1890.—I will not in this, which is my one letter of the year to you, my friends and fellow-workers, enter on the great public questions which are attracting an ever-increasing degree of interest.