There was a great deal to be done. I arranged with Dr. Croft to accompany us to Gaboon, obtained a couple of pilots for our aeroplanes, saw to the medical and surgical equipment, unearthed an interpreter for the natives, and then set about forming the necessary nucleus of old men for our Rejuvenation Sanatorium in the Kalahari. This last was the most exciting task of all, for we had to keep the matter secret--I was so afraid of Government interference--and yet at the same time we had to noise our scheme abroad. The daily press was chosen as the best medium of approach, and the following advertisement was inserted in seven different papers:-- "TO ALL MEN OVER SEVENTY.--A philanthropist, desirous of carrying out the new system of rejuvenation wishes to get into touch with at least one hundred old men who would be willing to submit to a grafting of new thyroid glands. Applicants, who must be reasonably healthy and in possession of all their faculties, should communicate with the box number quoted at the end of this advertisement. They should give full particulars of their age, ailments (other than old age), and social position; state the reason for desiring to extend their life; and also express their willingness to defray the average net cost per individual of the _actual treatment only_. The glands will be provided free, and a special ship will also be chartered for the passage out to South Africa, where the operation will be performed by skilled medical men. A proportion of the applicants will be interviewed and a selection made of those suitable by a man of 95, who has himself submitted to this novel treatment and who will afford proof positive of its extraordinary power to banish old age." It may not have been a particularly alluring announcement; but it was at least mildly intriguing. Many papers took up the refrain. Was it a hoax, asked some of them? Was it some new confidence trick? Or was it a genuine attempt to start a rejuvenation cult? Coming at a time when there were few divorces or murders, when Parliament was in recess, and when the labor world was temporarily quiescent, it proved to be of some journalistic value. The papers in which we advertised sent down young and persistent reporters to try and get lurid details for their insatiable public. But Gran'pa and I were not to be "drawn." We whetted their curiosity, but insisted on the privacy of that box number. The papers in which we did not advertise speculated, and sneered, and joked, and moralized, each according to its lights. And slowly the whole thing developed into a little newspaper boom--and the letters began pouring in. We got three hundred and seventy applications for a new lease of life within the first ten days. Some of them even came from the inmates of workhouses and almhouses. An army pensioner of 97 wrote:-- "DEAR SIR,