CONSTIPATION.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 7891, 22 December 1903, Page 4

CONSTIPATION.

More chronic disorders fire traoeabla to constipation than all the otlhers combined. It is lito stuffing up the sewer* of a great city. All the impurities ara force<l back into ihe system, causing an endless amount of sufl«riag> weakening the stomach, and preventing the proper digestion and asof food. Dr Morse's Indian Root Pills stand alone as the best remedy for constipation. They get at the cause, cleanstoe and purifyiJig the entire system. They assist Nature in the discharge of all her functions. Dr Morse's Indian) Root Pills are a posithre and permanent euro for Biliousness* Indigestion, Ooustipation, Headaches, SaUo^r Complexion, J£ver and Kidney Troubles, Piles, Pimples, Boils and Blatcbea, aad for Female Ailments. Pat-iked Si imije* bottles, and sold throughout Aua-

■ mbji" _ wok -with Constantia. You will bath' need | new gowns immediately. Constantia particularly." "Yea, mamma." " Andt, Johanna " " Excuse me !" said l Pink curtly, heading for the door. ""What, Johanna! Can you not evince the slightest interest in our affairs? You will please me by remaining to rejoice with us awhile at our brighter prospects 1" "No 'rejoice' in mine to-day, thanks," said Pink, airily, opening- the door. " Where are you going?" asked Mrs Pettison, her next remarks to be — " What are you going for?" amd "How long are you going to stay?" Pink knew them by heart and (resolved to cut all but the first — " Where are you going?" " Out !" she cried, disappearing immediately, and damming the door behind iher. She fled to the friendly barn/ and climbed up into the loft where yeara ago she had dragged Bruno, the old rocking-horse, to he a. comfort in hours of just suoh distress aa this. The loft was dim and close amd cfcusfcy — a strange place for the Angel who guards the childishness of unchildish children, but there the angel was. '•'Be sorry for me, Bruno," pleaded Pink, kneeling upon the floor, - clinging to her woodlen friend and 'hiding her- face in his scanty mane. Her dear-like head was low enough now, her sleek hair ruffled, her insolent -voice as gentle and mournful as a "dove's. The tears raced through her finger®, but she was not conscious of them. "Be sorry for me, iieia;r. I have become a beggar! I 'begged, Bruno. It was for the others — and they needed it — but I 'begged. And I sold myself away from home. Bruno, dear, be sorry — there is no one else to be sorry — just you, Bruno — I begged — and I think my heart is broken."