"YOUR LIFE IS NOT WORTH A STRAW."

Hawera & Normanby Star, Volume XXVII, Issue 2738, 5 June 1894, Page 4

"YOUR LIFE IS NOT WORTH A STRAW."

Not vforth a Btraw, eh? Then it was "worth just nothing — nothing at all. Who has not nsed that comparison a thousand times to express absolute worthlessness ? A straw ? The wind blows it away, fire burns it up, cattle tread it in he mud, , it rots by m the roadside. t "What of it ? Who cares for a ' straw ? Yet this is exactly what a dootor 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 that trusts' him, and ' haa no hope but in his s_ill ? For my part, if he .were up for sale at auction, I would bid one straw for him— no .more., Even if what '■■'' be said was true, he had no, right to say it. : Such a dootor is more likely 'to kill with his tongue than to cure with his drugs. , ' t A woman tells the story, arid.she tells it ' well. . .Hit doesn't sound like the truth, then I don't know what ever doe 3. The dates and the facts are all there, plain and orderly: "In the summer of 1878," she says, -'I found myself feeling tired, languid, lowl spirited, and weak. I felt as if some eviwere about to happen. My appetite waß poor, and after eating I had excruciating gains at my loins and sides. There was 8 orrible gnawing pain at the pit of my Btotnach, * and a rising in the throat as if I should choke, My head felt as though I had a ton weight on it. Gradually £ got worse, and for months could take only liquid food. At night I lay awake for hours together. • Later on-I suffered greatly from nervous prostration. My legs trembled and shook so I foared to fall. If a knock came to the .. door I trembled from head to foot. I had j "frequent attacks which began with palpita % tion of the heart and sudden stoppage of the ' breath. At these times I was speechless and helpless. They say I looked like a corpse, cold and bloodless, my finger-nails and lips having turned black. After a' while this ' would pass o_, leaving me weak and prostrate. I I ot so emaciated and thin that I was only a , bog ol bones, and bo weak I had to take hold , of the furniture to steady myself as I exossethe room. As time went on the nervousness and forebodings of evil so inoreased that I feared I should go -out of my mind. The neighbors said it would be a mercy if the - • Lord would release me from my sufferings. , . "In this condition I, continued for years, during which time I consulted five, doctors, " but 'nothing 'they gave me^did me any good. They all' said my ailment was heart disease, And .one said, ' Tonr life is not worth a straw.' " In despair I gave up taking physio, as I felt that nothing would save me. In May, . 1882, ten years ago, a lady (Mrs Biohardson) 1 called at my house, tola me of Mother Seigel's Curative Syrap, and strongly advised me to try it. I did so, and felt somewhat \ ' better after the first bottle; and by the time t ..had taken- three bottles I was completely cured. From that to this I have had no return of the attacks, and am so strong I can do any kind of work. But 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) j Emma Wickendeh (wife of William Wickenden, gardener), Pembroke Villas, 123, Moffat road, Thornton Heath, March 17th, 1892. So it turned'out that her life was not only ' worth a straw, but worth a whole golden > harvest of health and better days. Yet no ', , thanks to the doctors. Her . complicated symptoms puzzled and alarmed them, to be sure, but why? la, it not the dootor's duty ••. to understand such things ? Most assuredly. > Just as a lawyer should know the law, or a pilot the recks, tides, and lights of a coast. Had some of these medioal men known that Mrs Wickenden'S' malady was indigestion and dyspepsia, and .not 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 ttiat the, dear eight belonged to Mother Seigel'j v and to his remedy {hosts of people in tfiis. country a y indebted for physical salvation when, i ver truth, their lives seemed as straws. Bemember this was ten years ago, and the malady has not returned, showing that the Cure was a permanent one.

ESSAY ON OOPFEE.— They say that .. r Cofleß comes from an Island called Ceylon, ' bat my molhex says the best Coffee she ever 1 bought coiaes from her grocer who Bells - CbeA-b's A! Copitee.