Words for the Wise.

Otago Witness, Issue 2783, 17 July 1907, Page 85

Words for the Wise.

X Lesson for Those who

Gail Profit fey it.

The Cute of Mr. J. E. FAHEY.

(BT A DOSXDIST KEPORTSB.)

When at certain Masons we tee review* el - the year— mere duß catalogue* «f what are* called public event* dead and gene evertfo^ „ ■uch' life as there ever was ih them— w* cottfcrast'suoh^Uttlchtttotofwifch- that *eal , Review of the year which i» uaiH^owable, save" that every individual nay review hje ' own infinitmimal part of it, amd if he consider* it expedient to make knewn his afflux* to the world a reporter* services are called iato requisition, as tv done in connection with . Mr. John Edward Fahey, of He. 3t Graase'street, *Dunedin, whet cciA :— ?• About' eifhteen ip«iith*ag* "»7 }^ h was in aahockWly bad state, sad had been for a. food while before that. Iwa»suffiirUn > from an obstinate derangement el the internal organs, and matters had arrived at such . an unwelcome stage that I could not get my food to digest. The miaery I experienced through that trouble was greater thai* ( I can find words to describe.- The work I < was doing was notT»y any means light, aa« by the time I got home at night I was faurfr done, the feelings of exhaustion being ad , intense that I could have almost dropped fatigue." " I expect you would be able to stag vary soundly when in that condition ! " sag. gested the scribe. : " Well, that wai one thing t really cool* do, for exhausted nature could net bold «v« against any. desire I might have had ft keep awake. Ye* I could sjeep rich* •nough, but the difficulty about 'leenUfc . was that it did not retfesk ft *WJ**tji ' for when I awoke i» tp«f *|irai»jEif *'«*U| dead t&ed, and for the* fir** fir* «f 'the das , I could feel sensation* «M •#§?. ffiift ihrougtunylimbs. "One«lwswjwtfHj»ljK of my sickness WjM thf tesMDf**?/ .""WL •sized me. I looked ufioa bf* as ahiniU^l portable burden, as if thf *b *jU nothing btttf desolation all round. There was. «j* one pleasant thought in my mind to build »y^ ••If jm with, and after meals I felt fWti-j oularly drowsy and uncomfortably , '''What forms of discomfort did yom have, Mr. Fahty.?". . "I had a' terribly heavy feehng in mw ohest, and p*ins i»*d to attack . me righ* - between the shoulder*/ Often I had giafX. tufas which nude me quiU useless fte awhile, and my aightwemsiU^stb^mssjfd in some way or other. BUck specks *tf : . peared at times before my eye*, which Hit heavy and somewhat enlarged Ukthemoniings, and I had an awfully litter t«J» besides, *nd a coating, over m» «?»|W When I walked or stooped I found that the. aches acrois my loin# got more aevet« than! what ' they usually wer>, and the leaf ■ * exertion or excitement caused «y aerves > t» shake terribly, for my merveue system inf. very much weakened. -My appetite #«» getting poorer. said poorer every day. buJl. ,- whether I ate much, or little tfe made ma difference to the sens* el fulness in •«■ «tom»ch which followed my meal*. *W i| ; was quite evident that every particle of food , fermented. Some days I oevld hsrdly hplf mv head up for the excruciating aches thai < Afflicted me, and I was juss about as weajc and miserable as a man ceuld be when I hit upon * medicine thaf changed my lit* entirely." "What medicine was. that?" ' * "It was Clements Tonic, and a grand medicine it was, Coo. It was all a matter of fesk, and came about in this way. On* yrauiug I was reading, a Clements. Toaio testimonial to my wife, and when I got) tdj *c end of it teaid : • What do you *ay i§ r give it a trial?' An affirmative- anrwef . wo% given, ao\ I bought some Clements^omei : ani by the time I had finished with that remedy I was twice the man I had been. > My health was made so perfect by Clements Tonic that I think ne hooce should be without it. It began by sootbingmy nerve*, and after several days' treatment the weary lentations were not present when I got up* in the mornings, neither was the vile tast*J nor the coating on my tongue. Really, I was spellbound with amazement to find tlpt my appetite had come back already, and by- . and-bye the flatulence was done with jf .§P 'were the depAwag headaches, giddiaes>. and the pains about my chest and shoulder^ It seemed like a happy dream, but.it WMt better than that. It was a positive fao|L that Clements Tonic had cured me, and no*, you can publish these words *f truth m wy form you please."

detect thai a deep nature and % loving heart lay beneath the stern surface. Mr Moore broke the silence by intimating

that he had had word from his father to say he was coming down to stay over Christmas. There w«s an awkward pause, and the eyes of the woman flashed with indignation. "Your father!" she said, and her voice was hard. "I will not tolerate him. Just as I am. rising in the social world you would ridicule me by bringing that ignorant man here. I was good to him, when he came six years ago, and what were my thanks? He actually told the Hon. Mrs Brown that he lived on the old'age pension, and I j had told her that my husband'? father was a retired gentleman, living on his income. I And did he not tell Mr Walls, -the M.H.E., ' that your education was given you at the I sacrifice of" "his « home, which he mortgaged t beyond redemp^on? And had I not told Mr Walls that you were a self-made man? Moreover, you. were only a manager, then, and now that you «re a partner 'twould be madness' to have him here." . Mr Moore rose wearily from the teble, his action signifying he had no desire to discuss the matter further. He resolved' to let matters take their course, thinking something might intervene to cross his father's plans. He had not the will power to defy his wife, nor the heart to refuse his father.

I In a little snug cottage nestling cosily under a sheltering terrace in Maori Hill Jack Moore and his wife had found the ideal happiness that orowna the tmion jf two loving hearts. &s a lad, Jack's simpleness .and innocence had provided the pliable material for stronger miwfla to influence for evil, but this deplorable state of a nature lftckjag stability, and it regrettable consequences had accomplished what no other method would have brought about. His early fall became the stepping stone to the achievement of a high moral victory', and the memory of it was a powerful incentive to guard against moral retrogxeßsion^ Twenty years ago he had left Melbourne, his heart filled with noble resolution*, and in Dunedin he had realised them. His one regret was his inability to find his father, whom he mounted as dead. Christmas was nearing, and he felt anew the full force of heaven's many blessings. But, at the same time, he felt afresh the irreparable loss of his father, and the chiming bells awoke in him poignant regret for the past. Dad Moore arrived in town weary and worn from the tediousness of a long railway journey. He- hod essayed to "tidy himself a bit," but the spotted handkerchief knotted roughly around his neck did anything but" present a fashionable appearance. No wonder someone remarked "he was one of -the old school." Dad made his way to his son's home,, end: met his first rebuff at the gate, where a servant placed on the watch informed him that he would findf Mr Moore at the warehouse. In vain the old man toldwho he was; he was not allowed through the gates. Mrs Moore had anticipated his movements, and had so arsanged to thwart them. Old Dad's feet dragged heavily, and his spirits sank as he trudged wearily to the warehouse. Upon mentioning his connection with the head of the firm he was ushered into the private office. Father and son shook hands, and exchanged the usual commonplace talk about health, etc., and then the pauses were frequent and painful. It was a mutual relief when ihe son pleaded urgent business as an excuse to terminate the meeting, adding, at his father's departure, "Of course I will be pleased to see you! any time before you go." Poor old man, all alone in the streets! He felt -a thousand times more lonely and depressed than he ever was in his humble cottage. Unconsciously the words left his lips, "Jack would never have done that." Heart-weary and footsore, he wandered aimlessly from town, left the busy streets, and wandered along one of the quiet streets of Maori Hill. He came to a place where the

main road and the path leading to a private residence diverge at right angles, and stopped suddenly when a cough attracted his attention; then he became aware he was in a garden, and the lady who coughed regarded him intently.* Noticing hTs confusion, she came to the relief by saying in the sweetest voice possible, "Have you lost your way?" "Eh!" Dad replied, "the gate must have been open, and I never noticed the road turned."

"Oh, that is all right," the sweet voice assured him, and in even a sweeter tone added, '"Won't you, come in and have a cup of tea? You look so tired." Dad followed herSnv and. cheered with a cup of tea, he soon poured his troubles' into I a sympathetic ear. Little he knew what hopes- his simple story was creating in his listener's mind. Mrs Jack Moore was thinking of the overwhelming joy awaiting her husband upon bis return, for she was positive that her visitor was Jack's father. She heard his " footsteps, and with womanly ■' tact she slipped into an adjoining room to let them meet alone. H«r husband entered, gazed at the stranger for a few brief momen-tB, and then the yearning in the old man's heart through long years was satisfied, as his son's love welled up in the cry of "Father! My father <" No less sweet in the son's ears, after his long mourning for his lost father, came the affectionate, trembling response, "Jack, my boy! My boy!"

Dad Moore lives now with his favourite son and his sweet-voiced wife. His home is to be with them until he journeys beyond the Hills of Time.