Much as I hate the fault of never going beyond the fact that we see before us, I hate just as much the opposite error of not getting the full vision of the foreground. We ought always to be able to feel, at the end of any single home visit, that we have done something, accomplished something. Well: one of the things that we must make every effort to accomplish, and to feel ourselves a failure if we have not accomplished, is to find and to give pleasure, to enjoy ourselves, and if possible to give a little courage. The little embellishments of our work, the smile, the tone of voice, the jokes and courtesies of our fleeting contacts with individual patients, should be just as precious to us as any of our far-reaching plans and deep-plunging attempts to study into cases. How poignantly, how intensely Christ put this to us in saying that inasmuch as we did any good thing unto the least of his brethren we did it unto Him! I believe that He meant this not only of human beings, but of days, of moments. The least of these opportunities is infinitely precious and we are making a grievous mistake if we do not take it so. I have known a few social assistants who make each little deed and each little moment a perfect work of art in itself. Art at its best this work is. It was my greatest single experience in 1917-18 to admire the French art for finding joy in little things, and of making beauty in little things. I asked recently a group of Americans what they had found the most admirable in their contact with the French people. Everybody present had had the experience of finding in his own hotel or _pension_, a _femme de chambre_ or some other domestic who, though starting to work at five o'clock in the morning and working until late at night, nevertheless always kept joy or the appearance of joy in her work. On the first night that I was in Paris I went with a friend to dine at a restaurant very late. There was but one waitress, who had nearly finished serving an enormous number of people. She ought to have been near the end of her day's work, which our arrival prolonged still more. But I never can forget the welcoming look and tone with which she said to us, "Now I shall have the pleasure of serving _you_."