he married Miss Charlotte Beare, of Douglaston, Long Island, to whom he ever attributed the inspiration of his labors through nearly half a century. The marriage was a perfect one, although attended by many sorrows. Three of their four children died. One son survives Dr. Francis B. Trudeau. The death of Dr. Edward L. Trudeau, Jr., in 1906, was a great blow to his father and a loss to the medical profession.

It was in 1873 that Dr. Trudeau left New York City with the doom of tuberculosis pronounced upon him. He was only twenty-five; the gates of life seemed shut in his face, for it was believed that he had less than six months to live. Hardly able to stand alone, he was taken to Paul Smith's in the Adirondacks by a friend who was also a distant relation,-Louis Livingston. Smith's was then a hunters' inn in the heart of the wilderness, forty miles from the nearest railway point at Ausable Forks. The guide who carried Dr. Trudeau upstairs and put him to bed described his burden as 'weighin' no more'n a lambskin.' And the same guide lived to see that lightweight defeat a local champion in a backwoods ring!

A college-mate of Trudeau's, Edward H. Harriman, was then staying at Paul Smith's. Harriman, Livingston, and 'Uncle' Paul Smith took turns nursing the sick doctor through nights which he was not expected, in nature, to survive. And yet he outlived them all! He improved at Paul Smith's, then tried a winter at St. Paul, Minnesota. Here he suffered a relapse and was brought back to the Adirondacks, where he again improved. It was at about this time that, being joined by Mrs. Trudeau and their two children, Ned and Charlotte, the family passed through a terrible ordeal on a journey from Malone to Paul Smith's.

A blizzard arose, and the trip, which usually occupied less than a day, took over forty-eight hours. Paul Smith handled the team and wagon. After plunging through miles of snowdrift in the teeth of a biting norther, the horses fell down exhausted. The family's baggage had previously been abandoned at Barnum Pond. Paul Smith made the sick man as comfortable as possible, wrapped the children in blankets, and buried them for warmth in the snow. When the blizzard abated, the family reached the hunter's place, after two days of unspeakable hardship.

Surviving this ordeal, seeming even to have thrived upon it, Dr. Trudeau began to consider seriously the possible advantages in pulmonary diseases of exposure to pure cold air. He proposed to spend a winter in the Adirondacks, where the frigid season is prolonged and the thermometer occasionally stands at forty degrees below zero. His friends and medical advisers considered his proposition as a kind of suicidal mania, all except Dr. Loomis and Mrs. Trudeau. Dr. Trudeau had been impressed with the theory of Brehmer, the Silesian, and of Dettweiler, a patient and pupil of Brehmer, that the consumptive was not harmed by inclement weather, provided he accustomed himself to living out of doors, at rest. With the approval of Loomis and Mrs. Trudeau, the doctor carried out his experiment, the results of which practically revolutionized the science of treating tuberculosis. Trudeau so improved that presently he began to practice medicine among the Adirondack natives. He continued to do so for several years, often traveling forty miles in a day or night and in all sorts of weather, to usher, perhaps, some little woodsman into the world, or even to allay anxiety by his mere presence. It has been said that his bedside manner did more than physic in ninety per cent of

his cases. Half of his bills were never rendered and a quarter of the other half never paid; but tears would come into the eyes of many a woman when she saw him in after years; and men called him 'the beloved physician.'

I have beside me as I write some old prescriptions that were found in the ragged ledger of a general store in the wilderness of forty years ago, when stovepipes and pills were sold over the same counter. There are three of them that reveal as many phases of this humane country doctor, who often came in the night, dressed in mackinaw, pontiacs, and moccasins. Apparently, if the family pig or cow or dog was ailing, Dr. Trudeau was summoned through the wilderness. Here is a prescription calling for carbolic oil, tar, sulphur, and olive oil — which, a veterinary doctor tells me, could not be improved upon to-day as a cure for mange. 'Sig:' writes Trudeau at the end of the prescription; then, remembering that his patient might lack appreciation even of dog-Latin, he dashes his pen through the word and adds, 'Rub on the dog several times'!

There was no liquor license in the woods in those days, and little whiskey, licit or otherwise; yet there was an allabiding thirst, and men made their own poteen if they could get pure alcohol and some spirits of rye. Trudeau believed that, if a man liked an occasional drink, it was his human right to have it - in reasonable measure. But if the man abused the doctor's confidence, from that day on he went parched and prescriptionless.

Again, one finds an early prescription for a common symptom of tuberculosis. I brought this prescription to Dr. Trudeau not very long ago and asked him what he would prescribe now — after thirty-five years.

"That if anything,' he said; 'but probably nothing- no physic at all.

Open the window go to bed — and keep your nerve!'

During these early years Trudeau lived the life of the people in many ways. Being restored to health, he hunted and fished with the other sons of the wilderness. Every year up to 1913 he brought home his string of trout and killed his buck. His skill with the rifle was remarkable. It was a natural gift. On one occasion he outmatched all competitors, then, on a challenge, picked off his own empty cartridge shells suspended from the branch of a tree on strings. And as for boxing, it is said that one evening at Paul Smith's a local champion coaxed the doctor to put on the gloves.

'I promise not to hurt ye,' said the amateur bruiser.

Where the doctor acquired the gentle art no one seems to know; but when the local champion picked himself up at the end of the bout, he allowed that 'the doctor's the quickest thing with the mitts I ever run up ag'in!'

In 1877 Dr. Trudeau left Paul Smith's and moved into the adjacent hamlet of Saranac Lake, which was then a lumber centre with six houses and a sawmill. The railway was not constructed to that point until 1888. But when the doctor came to the village, gradual developments began. He was followed by a few patients who had placed themselves in his care as a last hope of cure or prolonged life. The town to-day is a small city, the metropolis of the Adirondacks, which grew up around the beloved physician and his great work. It has a remarkable sanitary system, and a health code after one portion of which New York is said to have reformed its own.

II

It was at Saranac Lake during his first winter there that Dr. Trudeau

literally dreamed a dream. Loomis had published a paper in the Medical Record, drawing attention to the climatic value of the Adirondack air for pulmonary invalids, citing the theories of Brehmer and Dettweiler and, no doubt, having in mind Trudeau's own case. Shortly after reading this paper, Dr. Trudeau fell asleep while leaning on his gun on a fox runway on the side of Mount Pisgah, near Saranac Lake. He dreamed that the forest around him melted away and that the whole mountain-side was dotted with houses built inside out, as if the inhabitants lived on the outside. As he said many years later, at the twenty-fifth anniversary of the founding of the Adirondack Cottage Sanitarium, 'I dreamed a dream of a great sanitarium that should be the everlasting foe of tuberculosis, and lo! the dream has come true!'

Shortly after a reception held on January 1, 1915, at which all of the sanitarium patients came to shake hands with the founder, I happened to remark to the doctor on the quaintness of his speech for the occasion. He had spoken of the strange new faces before him, and how there had been a time when he was personally acquainted with each and every one, 'his hopes, his fears, and very often the state of his bank account'; and how the girls even told him of their love affairs and of womanly dreams that too often were never fulfilled. The doctor suddenly leaned forward in his invalid's chair and said to me in a confidential stagewhisper,

'Would you believe it? I did n't know what my tongue was saying. I felt strangely aloof for the moment. I saw a younger man thirty years before, leaning on his gun, waiting for a fox. There was not a house, not a sign of a human being. Now -'

But even after the dream the beginning of the fulfillment did not occur for five or six years. He had built a house in the village. There, in that wonderful year, 1882, when Koch announced his discovery of the tubercle bacillus, Trudeau, who could not read German, received, as a Christmas present from his friend, C. M. Lea of Philadelphia, a translation of that document which the doctor termed 'the most far-reaching, in its importance to the human race, of any original communication'-Koch's Etiology of Tuberculosis. This was young Trudeau's immediate inspiration. He had an 'indifferent medical education,' to quote himself, 'no apparatus, and no books'; and the remoteness of his surroundings had removed him from contact with medical men to whom he might apply for instruction.

During brief visits to New York - sometimes at the expense of his health-he learned some of the first principles of bacteriology; - and 'I taught myself the rest as best I could.'

His laboratory was a little room in Saranac Lake, heated by a wood stove (there was no coal). He had a homemade thermostat heated by a kerosene lamp, and in this he succeeded in growing the tubercle bacillus, although he had to sit up o' nights to see that the living organism was not destroyed by varying temperatures. To regulate this, he invented a little shutter arrangement which could be opened or closed. He obtained the bacillus in pure cultures, and with them repeated all Koch's experiments. The guinea-pigs used for immunizing tests he had to keep in a hole underground which was heated by another kerosene lamp. He again proved that fresh air and natural hygiene were the deadly foes of tuberculosis, by turning loose on an island rabbits that had been inoculated with

recovered; while others, similarly in

oculated and kept in unhygienic places, died of the disease in a very short time. While his enthusiasm was thus running high, he built in 1884 on the side of Pisgah on the place of the dream - a little shack which is still there and which is known among the great buildings now around it as 'The Little Red.' This was the nucleus of the present vast sanitarium. He began with two patients, whom he apparently cured by making them sit all day and sleep all night practically in the open air, the windows being open, with the mercury courting the thermometer bulb.

Meanwhile he himself was laboring with his cultures, his home-made thermostat, his guinea-pigs and rabbits. During the week in 1890 when Koch announced his tuberculin as a 'cure' for tuberculosis, Dr. Trudeau published in the Medical Record an article describing his failure to obtain any appreciable degree of immunity by injections of sterilized and filtered liquid cultures of the tubercle bacillus (tuberculin). Later experiments with Koch's tuberculin by thousands of others proved similar failures.

Not long after this, while Dr. Trudeau was lying ill and depressed in New York City, there came from Saranac Lake the news that during the night his house, cultures, guinea-pigs-everything-had been destroyed by fire! It was the last straw. The sick man was in despair; but his indomitable spirit came to the rescue again, and a letter signed by William Osler helped him to accept fresh battle.

'I am sorry, Trudeau,' wrote Dr. Osler, 'to hear of your misfortune, but take my word for it, there is nothing like a fire to make a man do the phoenix trick!'

The phoenix rose from its ashes, with the financial help of George C. Cooper, of New York. Near the ruins of Dr. Trudeau's first house was built the

first and best-equipped laboratory in the United States for the study of tuberculosis. Here Trudeau labored for years, searching, as he often said, ‘in the haystack for the needle that we know is there.' Here his followers still work at all hours in immunizing experiments and in the testing of proposed specific remedies for the cure of tuberculosis. Here many a 'patent remedy' of the 'cure-consumption' order has met its Nemesis. Here, years before either Friedmann or Piorkowski tried to commercialize his so-called remedies through the press of two continents, the turtle-germ of both was weighed in the scientific balance and discarded as useless. It is not a breach of confidence now to reveal the fact that an article entitled 'Has Dr. Friedmann found a Cure for Tuberculosis?' which appeared on two pages of the New York Times on the very morning when the Berlin physician landed in New York, came from the Saranac Laboratory and was the work of several scientific brains, with Dr. Trudeau's as the master-mind on the subject. That article changed overnight the opinions of many in the medical world regarding the merits of Friedmann's 'specific.' Dr. Trudeau had examined the turtle organism years before, and had labeled it, not only harmless, but quite useless, as an immunizing agent in human tuberculosis.

To go back to the early days of sanitarium work, the success Trudeau achieved by his open-air and rest methods attracted great attention. The sanitarium grew swiftly. Other states of the Union built institutions of somewhat similar design and for similar treatment. To-day, as already remarked, there must be fully five hundred sanitaria for this method of treatment of pulmonary tuberculosis throughout the United States and Canada. The valley of the Saranac itself, with the

adjacent Adirondack region, contains several private and state sanitaria that owe their inception, directly or indirectly, to the influence of Trudeau.

The Adirondack Cottage Sanitarium is, and has been from the first, a semicharitable institution which treats patients at a sum that does not cover the cost of their board and housing. The annual deficit of the institution is comparatively large, as a result, and up to the time of his death it was Trudeau's personality that attracted voluntary contributions for the continuance of the great work. Such names as Harriman, Sage, Schiff, Rockefeller, Tiffany, have figured in the contributors' lists. E. H. Harriman was ever a friend and admirer of Trudeau and of his altruistic labors for humanity. In the days when ministers of money sat in Harriman's antechamber, they were allowed to cool their heels while a frail country doctor was ushered in; and the railroad king let great affairs hang fire while he heard the latest yarn about 'Uncle' Paul Smith, or became enthralled by the idealism of the practical dreamer who sat opposite him, a great head on an emaciated body, a voice resonant with faith's enthusiasm, even while it broke short in a gasp. This man was sending back to life and usefulness twenty per cent of his patients apparently cured, fifty per cent with the disease arrested, and the other thirty per cent with a fighting chance. And while the restless ministers of finance consulted their watches in the antechamber, Harriman listened and reached for his check-book!

As for that annual deficit, a friend who merely sought information once wrote to me as follows:

'What sort of a man is Trudeau? Is he what so many say he is, or just a clever doctor who has made a fortune out of the Adirondacks?'

In a rash moment I referred this to

'I am always puzzled to know why people cannot understand the spirit of the sanitarium work. To give a patient for $7 what costs $12 or $12.50, and to have a deficit of $27,000 on running expenses for the year, can hardly be a business way to make a man rich! Perhaps it is the imposing appearance of my equipage which makes the world think me a coiner of money!!'

The 'equipage' to which he referred with irony was a regular country doctor's buggy, just large enough to accommodate himself (and Mrs. Trudeau, at a pinch), and drawn by a shaggy mare which the townspeople affectionately termed 'the old plush horse.' In his latter years some one presented him with a fine carriage and a high-stepping thoroughbred. When Trudeau was called out to inspect this real equipage, he looked worried.

'I-I can't ride in that thing!' he said. 'People will think I don't need any money for my sanitarium!'

He agreed to accept the gift, however, when it was pointed out that the ancient mare was on her last legs. Thereupon the 'old plush horse' was pensioned and given a comfortable stall for life. On the first day of her long holiday Dr. Trudeau visited the stable.

'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.