WE MUST HAVE THE TOOLS.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXIII, Issue 10265, 17 October 1896, Page 3

WE MUST HAVE THE TOOLS.

Robinson Crusoe, you remember, made a big boat or canoe out of the trunk of a tree. It was a laborious and tedious job. And that wasn't the worst of it. When ho sot tha boat done he couldn't launch it. It was too heavy for one mau to handle. If he had only had an arrangement like the capstan of a, ship he might have managed. H« understood how to do it, but lacked the tools. How often we find ourselves at a dead stand for that same reason, Let me give you a fresh illustration, tied up for the moment in the following letter, which must first bo read before we can rightly come at the point. "In the spring of 1884," says our correspondent, "I got into o low weak way, not being able to imagine what had haupened to me. My strength keptebhing away till I had scarcely the desire or ability to do anything. I felt as tired as if I had just arrived home from a long, hard journey, yet no tax more than usual of auy kind had been laid upon me. My mind, too, was weary; so that I turned from things that obliged me to thirik, plan, or consider. "Side by side, so to speak, with all this was the failure of my appetite. Of course I continued to eat, but food no longer tempted me as it does a person in health. I picked and minced over my meals, and the little I took neither tasted good nor did me any good after I had eaten it. Instead of warming, comforting, and stimulating me, as it used to do, it gave me distress at the stomach, pain at the chest, and a singular feeling of tightness around the waist, as though a belt were buckled too snug around me, " After a time the condition of my stomach seemed to grow worse. There was that sense of gnawing, so often mentioned by others, and occasionally_a feeling of faintness and sinking, almost like the ground giving way under one's feet. _ [Remark.-An eminent London physician, in one ot his books, describes this sinking feeling as one of the most appalling ana frightful that it is possible to experience. It is not the body but the mind that suffers, I, the present writer, have had two attacks of it, aud pray to have no more of it. It is like unto the overshadowing of the Death Angel's wing, with the mind fully conscious of the situation. The cause is uric acid poi3on in the blood, one of the products of prolonged indigestion.] _" When this sinking feeling came on," continues the letter, " it weighed me down like a nightmare. Finally I got to be so weak I could only walk slowly and feebly. The doctor who prescribed for me said my complain[ was dyspepsia, but his medicine had no per ceptihle effect. " I continued like this for eight years; not always the same, but now better and then worse. Yet in all that long time there was not a day when I could say I was well. No medicine or treatment seemed right for me, and I almost began to think I never should recover my former health. "In March, 1892, Mother Seigel's Syrup was recommended to me as having done wonders in cases like mine, even when they were of long standing and everything else had failed. No harm to try it, we thought, and got a bottle from Mr. Grime, the chemist, in Bolton Road; and alter taking it I felt great relief. My appetite quickly improved, and I ; could eat without pain. When I had taken t two or three bottles more the bad symptoms > had all gone, and I was as well as over. My husband also took the medicine with the I same good results. You may publish my I letter and refer enquirers to me. (Signed) ' (Mrs,) Elizaboth Wilson, 5, Northcoto-stieet, ', Bolton Road, Darwen, March Ist, lS'Ju." The lesson in this interesting narrative is too plain for us to miss it. Our old friend Crusoe was not able to launch his boat for the want of machinery. Similarly the doctor who attended Mrs. Wilson was not able to cure Iter because he did not possess the right remedy._ His opinion as to her complaint j was entirely correct. She was suffering from chronic dyspepsia, precisely as he told her. But alas 1 it is one thing to know what ought to be done and quite another to have the knowledge and means to do it. Between these two things (over this wide gap) stands Mother Seigel's Syrup, just as between the two sides of the Thames stands j London Bridge. v.' ' I