“Well, Kitty,” he said, patting the old mare, “your troubles are all over. As for me--I expect this old horse will have to keep plodding along until his left ventricle ceases to contract.” But the matter of that “fortune” troubled him for some time. A month later he sent me another letter, accompanying a financial report underscored in places. “This,” he wrote, “is for the gentleman who sized me up as ‘a clever business man who has made a fortune out of the Adirondacks.’ Tell him I begged all this money personally, but not for myself, as I don’t own a cent of it and draw no salary.” Whatever he earned from private practice barely covered his living expenses. He raised the money to cover that deficit by what he called his “begging letters.” I remember he said to me one day after an anxious silence,-- “I’ve got a young fellow up there [at the sanitarium] who is a first-class radiographer. Then there is a bacteriologist, too. As soon as they get to feeling well they’ll go off and leave me. They are married, or are going to be, I’ve no doubt. If I could only build houses for them and get their _wives_ settled--That’s it!” he broke off. “I’ve got to raise the money for it somehow!” He raised it, of course. Now there are two new cottages in the sanitarium grounds, and a permanent X-ray expert and a clever bacteriologist have been added to the colony there and to the cause. When the doctor’s end had been achieved, he told me of his success. “But why is every one so good?” he asked. “Why do people work for me?” “They work for--you,” was suggested. “No, no--I hope not,” he protested. “They work for my work.” “Well, did you ever consider how much your own personality inspires this work?” “Oh, come, come!” said he, as pleasurably confused as a girl complimented for the first time on her looks. “What do people call my work?” he presently asked. I had never heard it given a name. It was unique. But I ventured the word “philanthropy.” He shook his head. “A distrustful word these days. Still--yes--say philanthropy, plus science. The sanitarium is the philanthropy--to cure or console; the laboratory is the science--to find a means of further immunizing toward ultimate, permanent cure.” It was, as a whole, a science and philanthropy of Christ; a sort of Christian science without intellectual sacrifice. To this philanthropy Trudeau would never permit his name to be attached. It was the Adirondack Cottage Sanitarium--not “Trudeau.” It was the Saranac Laboratory--not “Trudeau” Laboratory. It was usage and the postal authorities that labeled a little branch post-office, “Trudeau, N. Y.”