[Footnote 61:  Mr. Carnegie refers to the gift of ten million dollars to the Carnegie United Kingdom Trust merely in connection with Earl Grey.  His references to his gifts are casual, in that he refers only to the ones in which he happens for the moment to be interested.  Those he mentions are merely a part of the whole.  He gave to the Church Peace Union over $2,000,000, to the United Engineering Society $1,500,000, to the International Bureau of American Republics $850,000, and to a score or more of research, hospital, and educational boards sums ranging from $100,000 to $500,000.  He gave to various towns and cities over twenty-eight hundred library buildings at a cost of over $60,000,000.  The largest of his gifts he does not mention at all.  This was made in 1911 to the Carnegie Corporation of New York and was $125,000,000.  The Corporation is the residuary legatee under Mr. Carnegie’s will and it is not yet known what further sum may come to it through that instrument.  The object of the Corporation, as defined by Mr. Carnegie himself in a letter to the trustees, is: 

“To promote the advancement and diffusion of knowledge and understanding among the people of the United States by aiding technical schools, institutions of higher learning, libraries, scientific research, hero funds, useful publications and by such other agencies and means as shall from time to time be found appropriate therefor.”

The Carnegie benefactions, all told, amount to something over $350,000,000—­surely a huge sum to have been brought together and then distributed by one man.]

Thus, Pittencrieff Glen is the most soul-satisfying public gift I ever made, or ever can make.  It is poetic justice that the grandson of Thomas Morrison, radical leader in his day, nephew of Bailie Morrison, his son and successor, and above all son of my sainted father and my most heroic mother, should arise and dispossess the lairds, should become the agent for conveying the Glen and Park to the people of Dunfermline forever.  It is a true romance, which no air-castle can quite equal or fiction conceive.  The hand of destiny seems to hover over it, and I hear something whispering:  “Not altogether in vain have you lived—­not altogether in vain.”  This is the crowning mercy of my career!  I set it apart from all my other public gifts.  Truly the whirligig of time brings in some strange revenges.

It is now thirteen years since I ceased to accumulate wealth and began to distribute it.  I could never have succeeded in either had I stopped with having enough to retire upon, but nothing to retire to.  But there was the habit and the love of reading, writing and speaking upon occasion, and also the acquaintance and friendship of educated men which I had made before I gave up business.  For some years after retiring I could not force myself to visit the works.  This, alas, would recall so many who had gone before.  Scarcely one of my early friends would remain to give me the hand-clasp of the days of old.  Only one or two of these old men would call me “Andy.”