A surgeon does not spend all day, every day, with his gloves on, and his scalpel in his hand; he is not _always_ operating, or even arranging for operations; he can find time to see patients, to sit and talk with them, to advise them, to cheer them, even to tell funny stories to them, but all the time he is watching them. A lawyer is not always pleading in the court room, a clergyman is not forever in the pulpit. The lawyer when talking to his client is just as truly a lawyer; the clergyman, when visiting his congregation, is just as truly a clergyman,--the sermon on Sunday is the climax, if I may so express it, of his week's work. The lawyer's speech to the jury is the point to which all his efforts tend after, perhaps, weeks of preparation. So the convalescence of a patient is the post climax of the nurse's undertaking. She begins with the climax, severe illness, operation, or obstetric case, whatever it may be, gradually the stress lessens, the whole atmosphere of the house becomes natural as the patient progresses toward recovery; but the process is not complete, and the nurse's work is not done until the doctor pronounces her trained care no longer necessary; then she may go, and feel that her work has been thoroughly done-no small comfort surely. I wish I could show my young sister nurses how good _for them_ this period of the patient's convalescence might be. The delightful rest of regular sleep, and regular meals comfortably eaten at a table instead of in solitude from a tray, the opportunity for regular exercise--these things come as a real luxury when one has been nursing a critically-ill patient, and anxiety has been with one, night and day. This is the period when the nurse's nerves, strained to their utmost, can regain their tone, where the responsibility borne by the doctor and shared by the nurse is not so great a weight, and the knowledge of one more victory over death, one more human life saved, gives a joyousness to the day that is good to experience. The satisfaction of knowing that by your help the patient has come, perhaps, from the gates of death; the pleasure of noting day by day the return of healthful sensations, the gradual ever- growing desire to once more take his accustomed place in the life work that has been interrupted--all these are missed by the nurse who flies from convalescents.