“AS HAPPY AS A KING.”

New Zealand Times, Volume LXXII, Issue 4822, 27 November 1902, Page 3

“AS HAPPY AS A KING.”

This old saying, like a good many others, is founded upon ignorance, and therefore completely misleading. As a matter of fact, kings have rather less happiness than falls to tho share of most private men. Take at random from history the lives of any fifty kings you will and compare them with the lives of any fifty private men, also taken at random, and I’ll wager you iny last sixpence you’ll find the balance of happiness inclines heavily to the private men. To, bo heralded by drum and trumpet wherever you go, to be spoken of cither in terms of the extremesb adulation or of Vulgar*abuse, and to servo as a target for tho revolver practice of every crank J who nurses a grievance, is not quite the life a wise man would choose if his will had anything to do with tho matter. “I wish I were a king,” said Jones to his friend Brown; ‘‘not what is nowadays called a king, but a real king as of old—one with authority to have a few people killed now and again when ho felt like it.” “Yon are neither a king nor a man,” replied Brown, “but an ass without ability to cat thistles.” Brown was right. Of all ambitions which sway mortal man, that which cost imperial Cxsar his life—ambition to become a king—has least of wisdom in it, and is only to bo accounted for by tho monstrous fallacy of supposing that kings are, per so, happier than other men. These thoughts occur to us in considering tho case of Mr William Higbett, of 7, Eider street, Adelaide, S.A., who, wo were about to say, was as happy as a king until about .three years ago. But that wouldn’t be right. With his youthfulness, his health, strength and splendid physique. Mr Highott should havo been, and doubtless was, happier than any king who could he named. Mr Highott writos.thus on tho 10th of March, 1002: —“I am a native of South Australia, twenty-fivo years of age, and until three years ago never knew what it was to bo seriously ill. At that period I was engaged in bush work, right' in the heart of tho rough North-East District. The work was extremely laborious, and tho climate red hot. These conditions completely broke down my health. I grew weak and thin, continually felt out of sorts, and would got up m the morning feeling more tired than when I went to bed. There was a tight feeling, a distressing sense of oppression about tho chest, and I was much troubled by flatulence, which frequently compelled mo to rise from my bed and walk tho floor for hours. I tried all sorts of pills and medicines for ray complaint, but ■ none of them did mo any good. Finally I grew E o weak that I had’to giro up my employment, having lost twenty-eight pounds in weight. I then wont to Adelaide, and placed myself in tho caro of a first-class doctor, who said that my trouble was a bad form of indigestion; but though ho treated mo for a considerable time 1 gained no relief. It was at this crisis that a little book was left at the house which, fortunately examining, I found to bo an almanac, issued by tho proprietors of Mother’s Seigel’s Curative Syrup. In this little work I read of tho case of a person whoso symptoms were very similar to mine, and who claimed to havo been thoroughly cured by Mother Soigel’s Curative Syrup.

This fact determined me to try it, and i obtained a bottle without delay. A very few do-.es were suhicieut to cause winch encourag'd me l<> persevere v.ilb it, Utf result being that in a f"w weeks I felt iik“ a new man. 1 could eat. heartilv and enjov my food, the ilainlence disappeared, my steej, was sound fulness * returned to me. That was twelve months ago, and I hare enjoyed tho best of health ever since. I always keep a bottle of it by me, and take a dose from time to l.iine, believing that prevention is better than cure.”