INTIMATE STRANGER

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 11200, 21 October 1899, Page 7

INTIMATE STRANGER

Suppose a man to have lived fifty yean without ever having seen the reflection of his own face. Now lead him before a mirror and let him have a look. He will, of course, recognise the outlines and general appearance of his body; but his features will be as new and strange to him as those of a person lie has never before met. Yet he has worn that mask all his life; has touched it with his hands time beyond counting; has by means of it expressed the feelings and passions of half a century; has heard its peculiarities remarked upon by otliors— bone of his bone and flesh of his flesh as it is, the glass presents it to his gaze as a novelty. Fortunately Nature has so made us that wo are commonly satisfied with our looks, otherwise this man might ourse the hour he first beheld his own countenance.

On a page of a book which lies on my table this bright morning is a picture which —were it published without title or description—probably the most of us would not understand; yet the original is vitally important to every human being. No mirror throws back its structure to the eyes, nor has tho owner ever laid hands on it. Nevertheless its name is daily on our lips, and on its faithful performance of duty largely depend our efficiency and happiness. Still, people are continually alluding to it in words of wailing and complaint. Thoy find no end of fault with it when it goes wrong, and when it goes right seldom pay it tho compliment of doing good work. "The way of the world," you remind me; "alas the way of the world." For example here is one who says that in tho early part of 1890 sho began to suffer from a bad stomach and indigestion. Now the stomach tries to bo good and not bad. It makes constant and mighty efforts to accomplish its task and bo furnish the rest of tho body with health, strength, and beauty; but it often fails dismally, and its owner characterises it as a "bad" stomaoh. Now who, or what is accountable 1 Continuing, our correspondent adds: "I had no rolish for food, and after eating I had pain at tho chest and sides. Whatevor kind of food I took nothing agreed with me. I made use of various medicines in hopes of relief, but none of them did me any good. At last a neighbour, Mrs. Tyrell, told mo how she had benefited —having had the same complaint—by Mother Seigol's Syrup, and recommended me to try it. Somewhat encouraged by what she said, I procured a bottle of this remedy, and soon found that it relieved me as nothing else had done. I could eat better, all food agreed with mo, and I felt better every way. Sinoe that time —now four years ago— have kept well, taking an occasional dose of the Syrup when I seemed to need it. My daughter suffered from the Bame trouble, and Mother Seigel's Syrup had the 'like good effect in her oase, You are at liberty to mako any use you like of this statement."(Signed) Mrs. Elizabeth Naulty, Foresters' Arms Inn, 96, Scouringburn, Dundee, July 2, 1897. f This lady's stomach did not becomo " bad" of "malice prepense and aforethought," as the lawyers say of certain criminals. Tho cause lay in the conditions of her life, her habits of eating, maybe-with, possibly, in--1)led weakness.' There are so many things, and combinations of things, that tend to produco or develop dyspopsia, it is hard to trace them in individual instances. The symptoms (or consequences), however, are more numerous, dangerous, and deceptive than the uninstructed imagine. It iB for this roason that so great a multitude of alleged "dyspopsia remedies" aro prepared, But tho " bad" stomach having been slow to abandon duty and strike work, does not respond to any and all sorts of drugs that may be thrown hopefully into it. The euro must bo exactly adapted to tho disease, and if there is a medicine which so perfectly meets this requirement as Mother Seigel's Syrup the world haß not yet hoard of it. The tired and inflamed organ receives it for tho genuine stimulus and healer that it is -and the "bad" stomach is changed back into a good one. You now guess what that picture on my table represents—a machine in your body you will never see, but which in other ways you may study and know more about.