One of the most wonderful sights from the sociological standpoint is the main street of Scranton, Pa., and the neighbouring Court-house Square. Scranton has a weekly corso. A vast stream of young people passes up and down the street on Saturday afternoon, to see and to be seen; to court and to be courted. I have watched that stream for hours, and although fully eighty per cent. of those young people are of foreign birth or children of the foreign born, I could only faintly trace racial differences. Almost invariably, too, the racial marks have been most effectually blotted out from the faces of those who have had the best advantages; that is, the same advantages which we have had. It is noticeable that children of the Southern Italians grow larger than their parents, and would grow better than they, if in the changed environment love would supply what chance or fate has denied them. I believe in love as a factor in social redemption, not only because I believe that we are essentially alike, but because I believe that most human beings respond to it more or less quickly. We know that children do, and that we ourselves rarely outgrow the response to love. I recall once travelling westward on an immigrant train. To begin with, the car was very much crowded, and after it became part of a slow local train, it was invaded by native Americans, who fretted much and justly, at having to travel in an unventilated, ill-smelling car. At one station a mother came in, with a child about five years of age. The little one was crying bitterly, because it had the toothache. Two other children caught the infection and lifted up their voices, loud enough and long enough to set every passenger on edge. The mother of the five year old tried to comfort her by telling her that soon they would be at the dentist's, and he would pull the naughty tooth. That remark failed to produce the desired effect, for the little girl fairly screamed and the two babies joined in the chorus. Then the mother, growing angry, cried: "Jenny, if you don't keep still, I'll break your neck!" At which Jenny, not unnaturally, ran from her. I stretched out my arms, and catching her held the struggling form for a minute, then lifted her gently to my knee. "Tell me, Jenny," I said, "where does the tooth hurt?" She pointed to her swollen cheek, and I said: "Now, dear, I'll take that toothache away," and I lightly stroked the sore cheek. Here let me say that I am neither a Christian Scientist nor a Faith Healer, and that when I have a toothache, I go straightway to the dentist. I stroked Jenny's swollen cheek for a time and then asked: "Does it still hurt, dearie?" and Jenny answered: "Not now. Do it some more." And I did. "One, two, three!" I said at last. "I'll put your toothache into my pocket." And lo! and behold! the toothache was gone. Relieved of pain, the child soon fell asleep in my arms, and I carried her back to her mother.