Canterfield.
"And common gratitude ought to prompt him to make you one,"
said his wife.
Mr. Tolman went home and wrote a will. He left all his
property, with the exception of a few legacies, to the richest
and most powerful charitable organization in the country.
"People will think I am crazy," said he to himself, "and if I
should die while I am carrying out my plan, I will leave the task
of defending my sanity to people who are able to make a good
fight for me." And before he went to bed his will was
signed and witnessed.
The next day he packed a trunk and left for the neighboring
city. His apartments were to be kept in readiness for his return
at any time. If you had seen him walking over to the railroad
depot, you would have taken him for a man of forty-five.
When he arrived at his destination, Mr. Tolman established
himself temporarily at a hotel, and spent the next three or four
days in walking about the city looking for what he wanted. What
he wanted was rather difficult to define, but the way in which he
put the matter to himself was something like this:
"I would like to find a snug little place where, I can live,
and carry on some business which I can attend to myself, and
which will bring me into contact with people of all sorts--people
who will interest me. It must be a small business, because I
don't want to have to work very hard, and it must be snug and
comfortable, because I want to enjoy it.
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