It is high time to give Dr. Grenfell’s great work the broad, sure underpinning of a liberal endowment. It may be true that “an institution is the lengthened shadow of one man”; but the one-man power of Grenfell’s personality is not immortal, and the work is too important to be allowed to lapse or to languish when he no longer directs, inspires and energizes all. To endow the work now, when many concerns of lesser moment are claiming their millions of dollars and their thousands of devotees is to relieve the Doctor of the ordeal of stumping the United States, Canada and the British Isles to keep his great plant going. Despite the volunteer assistants, despite the aid of good men and women banded in associations or toiling in groups or as individuals at points far from Battle Harbour and St. Anthony, despite the economy practised everywhere and always, there is ever a need, a haunting need, of funds; and a few insular politicians and traders may talk as elaborately as they please about Grenfell as an interloper, with a task that does not belong to him, but as long as Newfoundland does not provide a sufficient subsidy, most of the money must come from somewhere off the island. I have heard some “little-islanders” say that Dr. Grenfell ought to get out, and that Newfoundland should take over his whole business, but as long as Newfoundland does not move to that end, and there is a woeful want of doctoring and nursing at any outport on the map, somebody with the flaming zeal of this crusader has a place. Grenfell is doing the work not of one man but of a hundred. Could his cured patients have their say, there would be no doubt about that endowment. If grateful words were dollars, Grenfell would be a multi-millionaire. It should not be necessary to explain in circumstantial detail the constant and pressing need of funds to carry on an enterprise that covers so large a territory and involves so many and such various activities. A chain of hospitals and dispensaries, manned in large part by eager and devoted volunteers, an orphanage, an industrial school, a fleet of boats—including the schooner _George B. Cluett_—a Seamen’s Institute, a number of dwellings for the staff personnel, the supplies of food and coal and surgical apparatus and medical equipment—all these items impose a burden on the overtaxed time and strength of the Doctor so considerable that it is not even humane or moral to expect him to speak two or three times a day as he does when he ought to be taking a well-earned vacation. Countless thousands are eager to hear the man himself describe his work, and there is usually a throng whenever and wherever he appears, but to let him wear himself out in appealing for the means to carry on is a waste of the enormous man-power of a great leader of the age. He does not cavil or repine, but he ought to be saved from his own willingness to overdo.