FOR EVERYBODY.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XXX, Issue 9642, 17 January 1903, Page 5 (Supplement)

FOR EVERYBODY.

So much can be done nowadays for the sick or injured body. But who cures tlie [ hurt soul? What patent medicine will I dry tears? l"ou have worked hard and honestly m life, perliaps, and suddenly you are struck , down on the road and thrown aside — a ' failure. Or the being dearest to you, ' your wife or the boy who was -flesh of your flesh, your one care and hope m life, is d«\d — was put out of youv sight, yes- , terday, m that cut m the muddy ground ' yondor. Never to come back horne — , never to speak to you or touch you again. What are you to do? Tlie hours and days * and years must creep on and on before I you can go to him. " Or perhaps the hurt is not a vital stab , like that, but some mean, belittling shame, some vulgar disgrace that has fallen on you by no fault of yours. You think that you can never lift your head or look your friends m the eyes again. . 8 What am you dp? You are young and '■ strong; is life over and dead? No doctor * prescribes for those hurts; no x drug touches them. Yet there sire homely " prescriptions which do give relief. , First, don't disguise the wound 'to yourself. It is there, real ; it may never heal. . s Don't touch your wound. But your * physical nerves are weakened, your ■vi--1 tality is lessened. Go to work there. I Is there any occupation or amusement 1 which you especially relish? Take it up. r Be it the theatre, or novel-reading, or 1 photography, or cookery — go to it. Don't r mind what the neighbors say. You will s be surprised and perhaps a little ashamed to find how soon your pulses will grow < regular and your thoughts sane. - Next,' stiffen yourself to carry your grief t alone. Don't drip tflie black flood hourly » on to your neighbors. Be sure each of * them has his own, load to carry. Look > for it. Give him a helping hand with it. [ And after a year or two of tliis com- ', mon-sense nourishment of yourself, you I will suddenly see that going through the J vale of misery you have made it a straight ■ road to the heights. ; . :