"YOUR LIFE IS NOT WORTH A STRAW."
Not worth a straw, eh T Then it was worth juet nothing—nothing ab all. Who has not used that comparison a thousand times to express absolute worthlessness ? A straw ? The wind blowß it away, fire burns it up, cattle tread it in the mud, it rots by the roudside. .What of it ? Who cares for a shraw ? Yot thia is exactly what a doctor recently said to one of his patients, " Your life is not worth a straw." How much is a doctor worth who will speak so to one who.trusts him, and has no hope but in bis skill 7 For my part, if he were up for sale ab auction, I would bid one siraw for him —no more, Even if whab he said was true, he had no right to say it. Such a doctor is more likely to kill with his tongue than to cure with hi 3 drugs. A woman tells the story, and she tells ib well. If it doesn't sound like the truth, then I don'b know whatever does. The dates and the. facts are all there, plain and orderly. "In the summer of 1878," she says, "I found myself feeling tired, languid, lowspirited, and weak. I felt as if some evil were about to happen. My appetite was poor, and after eating I had excruciating pain at my loins and sides. There was a horrible gnawing pain at the pib of my stomach, and a rising in the throat as if I should choke. My head felt as bhough I had a ton weight on ib. Gradually I gob worse, and for months could take only liquid food. Ab night I lay awake for hours together. , " Later on I suffered greatly from nervous prostration. My legs trembled and shook so 1 feared to fall. If a knock name to the door I trembled from head to foot. I had frequent attacks which began with palpitation of the hearb and sudden stoppage of the breath. Ab these times I waß.speechless and helpless. They say I looked like a corpse, cold and bloodless, my fingernails and lips having turned black. After a while tbia would pass off, leaving me weak and prostrate. I got so emaciated and thin thab I was only a bag of bones and so weak I had to bake hold of the furniture to steady myself as I crossed the room. As time wenb on the nervousness and forebodings of evil so increased that I feared I should go out of my mind. The neighbours said it would be a mercy if the Lord would release me from my sufferings. "In tbia condition I continued for over four years, during which time I consulted five doctor a, bub nothing they gave me did any good. They all said my ailment was heart disease, and one said, ' Your life is not worth a straw.' " In despair I gave up taking physic, as I felt that nothing would save me. In May, 1882, ten years ago, a lady (Mrs Richardson) called ab my house, told me of Mother Seigel'a Curative Syrup, and strongly advised me to try ib. I did bo, and felb somewhab better after the first bottle; and by the.time I bad taken three bottles I was completely cured. From thab to this I have bad no return of the attacks,* and am so strong I can do any kind of work. Bub for'Seigel's Syrup I should have been in my grave long ago. I wish others to know this, and will answer any who call or write." (Signed) Emma Wickenben (wifeof William Wickendcii, garnener), Pembroke Villas, 123, Moffat Road, Thornton Heath, March 17th, 1892. So it turned out thab her life was not only worth a straw, bub worth a whole golden harvest of health and better days. Yet no thanks to the doctors. • Her complicated Bymptoms puzzled and alarmed them, to be sure, bub why? Is it nob the doctor's duty to understand such things? Most assuredly. Just as a lawyer should know the law, or a pilot the rocks, tides and lights of a coast, ilad some of these medical men known that Mrs Wickenden's malady was indigestion and dyspepsia, and nob heart disease, they might possibly have relieved her. But, confused by the symptoms, they were blind to the cause. We may well wonder if there are many such doctors in England. Cases like this show that the clear sight belonged to Mother Seigel ; and to her remedy hosts of people in this country are indebted for physical salvation when, in very truth, their lives seemed as straws. Remember this was ten years ago, and the malady has nob returned, showing that the cure was a permanent one.
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Bibliographic details
Auckland Star, Volume XXV, Issue 149, 23 June 1894, Page 6
Word Count
799"YOUR LIFE IS NOT WORTH A STRAW." Auckland Star, Volume XXV, Issue 149, 23 June 1894, Page 6
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