WAS IT PROVIDENCE OR ACCIDENT ?

Taranaki Herald, Volume XXXIX, Issue 8936, 19 November 1890, Page 4

WAS IT PROVIDENCE OR ACCIDENT ?

Did the Baaing of that article save tha man's life? That is the question. Is there a divinity that shapes our ends ? or are events but a mere series of accidents which may happen to one persou as well as another. Are ths experiences that compose our lives links in a chain, or loose grnins of sand ? As you answer these questions, as you take the one side or the other, so is your faith ; you are a materialist or a believer in Providence. We now propose to relate a story in illustration Ol this problem which may have some efE net in arousing thO6e who have always thought themselves tbe subjects of blind chance. Tne following facts are fully vouched for, und resemble occurrences in the lives ot multitudes.

Several years ago Griffith Jones was a policeman at Holyhead, Wales. He had a family consisting of a wife and five jouDg children to take care of. Holyhead ia on St George's (or tbe Irish) Channel, and is open to the terrific gales that bo often gather on those dangerous waters and beat with violence upon the coast, Jones' 'post' or 'beat' extended back into thecountiy, over bleak, wind-swept hills. He had to walk through this region ia all weathers, dey or night. He was often out in winter nightr, ia cold aad darkuess exposed to tho eloruis that drive in from the sea. At such limes the wife listened lo tho rattling wirdows, and prayed that the husband and father mi^ht take no harm in the wild tempest. This was hard lines, but in the family (though they were poor enough; there was still health and comparative comfort. But ia a bad storm tbe policeman caught a heavy cold. Home remedies failed to cure it, and the officer pent to bis old phjeician at Aberifraw for medicine. It did no good. Jones' right si 1c 6 rew 'queer' and painful. The dactir said it was the liver, and he was right; but correct opinions don't cure disease. His head troubled him too, and he was often so giddy he could hardly walk. '• I ava so tired and weary," he would say. "I don't know what makes me. I try to reßt and sleep, but get up just as dead tired as when 1 go to bed."

Then worse came. He sat down to his table, but revolted from his food ; appetite was gone. There was a curious feeling at the stomach ; it was cold, dull, and miserable, like a iurnace which contains nothing but o&hes and cinders. A nosey and nuuseous kind of gas or wind came up into bis throat, like tbe effluvia from a tomb. Llis wifo called his attention to the ghastly yellow colour of hia ejes and skin, and once in a while he would have a spell ot palpilution of the heart that mat c him atiaid of falling dead — p rhaps ia Buinu lonely place.

In Bpite of it all, howevtr, Policeuiin Joues kept un duly ua much as ever he could. Of courßt. So would any honest, plucky man. But he shpt fitfully, witri bad dreaiuß. He cried out sometimes with the ttrror of them, and tbe frightened children said, "Is papa going to die ?" He was, acd ib, one of tho moßt patient and loving of men, yet now he was cross and surly to hie family. Then (something new developed. There came a pain under bis lett shoulder blade ; hie wrists and kaees grew swollen and painful this was rheumatism, caused, tbe doctors said, by the undigested and fermented food having poisoned the blood. Kuiney and bladder complaint followed — lor they also are merely 8} mptoius of indigestion end dyspepsia. The policeman now lelt tout he must give up, and, if he did, toen w hat ? He could foresee nothing but destitution.

Now we come to the evmt which suggested the question with which this short history begins : Was it an accident or was it a liz.k in a saving c'jaiu ? Entering vhe Holyheud station-house one day, ill, depreesed, weak, and miserable, he saw a little pumpklel upon tbe tiblo. He picked it up aud be^an to read it. In a few momeats bib miad was riveted on its pages. In clear, piuin language Le found his own case fuily described, just as though tbe book had been written tor him anil tor him alone. It named a* cure for nil his ailments, v medicine called Mother Seigel's Curative S>rup. The pluiu honesty of tbe statements won his confidence. lie procured balfa-Uozen bottles through Mr Heury Wilson, of ibu Drug Uall, Hol^- bead. Taking it he began to improve, and all his aches and pains vauibhcd in a few weeks. This was August, 1879. Tea 3 ears have passed, but not a sign or bj mpiom of his ailment has returned. Ait Joaeß entered apon & wore lucrative busmen?, and wh.rtver he goes he spreacs tho fume o£ Stigel'ct Syrup, and iusisiß ttiat the glimpse vi the book on the table Bettleu the puiut as to whether he should go under ibb aod or be tbe strong aew man lie has beeu ever since. 5