to her duties in and out of the house until she could stand on
her feet no longer, and when Doctor Grenfell entered the cabin he
found her lying helpless on a rough couch of boards, with scarce
enough bed clothing to cover her. Some half-clad children shivered
behind a miserable broken stove, which radiated little heat but sent
forth much smoke. The haggard and worn out father was walking up and
down the chill room with a wee mite of a baby in his arms, while it
cried pitifully for food. Like all the family the poor little thing
was starving.

The mother was suffering with an acute attack of bronchitis and
pleurisy. All were suffering from lack of food and clothing. The
children were barefooted. One little fellow had no other covering than
an old trouser leg drawn over his frail little body. The man's fur
hunt had failed the previous winter. Sickness prevented fishing. There
was nothing in the house to eat and the family were helpless. Doctor
Grenfell came to them none too soon.

In every harbor and bay and cove there was enough for Doctor Grenfell
to do. His heart and hands were full that summer as they have ever
been since. His skill was constantly in demand. Here was some one
desperately ill, there a finger or an arm to be amputated, or a more
serious operation to be performed.

The hospitals were soon filled to overflowing. Doctor Grenfell afloat,
and his two assistants with the nurses in the hospitals were busy
night and day. The best of it all was many lives were saved. Some who
would have been helpless invalids as long as they lived were sent home
from the hospitals strong and well and hearty. An instance of this was
a girl of fourteen, who had suffered for three years with internal
absesses that would eventually have killed her. She was taken to the
Battle Harbor Hospital, operated upon, and was soon perfectly well. To
this day she is living, a robust contented woman, the mother of a
family, and, perchance, a grandmother.

Grenfell was happy. Here was something better than jogging over
English highways behind a horse and visiting well-to-do grumbling
patients. He was out on the sea he loved, meeting adventure in fog and
storm and gale. That was better than a gig on a country road. He was
helping people to be happy. He prized that far more than the wealth he
might have accumulated, or the reputation he might have gained at
home, as a famous physician or surgeon. There is no happiness in the
world to compare