In many cases on the other hand, there is no question of poverty to contend with—neither the wage-earner’s reluctance to stop work, nor the mother’s unwillingness to leave a houseful of little children. Instead, we must contend with ignorance, prejudice, and mental inertia—a moral alley quite as dark as that of the slum. One of the most discouraging features of this work is having to stand by and see the patient throw away his chances. Tuberculosis waits for no one, and it requires not only physical, but mental and moral strength to resist it. Before we can remake and reconstruct a supine individual, the disease wins out in the race. There is one consolation, however; hopeful cases are usually far less dangerous than advanced ones. The refusal of sanatorium treatment is a loss to the individual only. Furthermore, we have this grim solace—when they finally consent to go, after weeks and months of delay, they do so, too late to help themselves, it is true, but at a time when they are most dangerous to other people. =Sanatorium Outfit.= When a patient enters a sanatorium, the nurse must see that he is supplied with clothing heavy and warm enough for outdoor living. If he has money, he should be instructed what to buy. If he has none, these things must then be procured through some charitable association. No patient should be permitted to enter a sanatorium unless properly equipped, and frequently his decision against going is due to lack of such equipment. In winter, he naturally requires much more than in summer. Roughly speaking, his wardrobe should contain at least two changes of flannel underclothing, a sweater, overcoat, woollen cap, woollen gloves, overshoes, flannel night clothing, a dressing-gown, toilet articles, and a hot-water bottle. Some institutions have a printed list of the articles required, which is sent to the patient when his application is accepted. A steamer rug is usually necessary, a cheap substitute for which may be found in the large horse-blanket, sold in saddlery shops.