Harold Daght's Double.

Tuapeka Times, Volume VI, Issue 274, 1 May 1873, Page 7

Harold Daght's Double.

AS ORIGIN At STORY. By Felix Vincewt. What's in a name ? This question was asked by sweet Will Shakespeare Jong ago, and has ever since been ruthlessly banded about to no purpose that I can sea, save to help silly fellows out of their blunders. " A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." True ; and I don't find the face ache more endurable for being called tic. doloreux. Yet, for all that, there is a great deal in a name. Parliamentary gentlemen on this side of the Atlantic do not give each other' the lie direct. They merely say that the statements of the honorable member are scarcely in accordance with the facts. If Brown is about to retail the gossip of his club, he always prefaces it by stating, in defiance of Lindley Murray, that he has been " confidentially informed by a certain party," Ac. — Baid party having been composed of a single individual. When scheming villany, clothing itself in the spotless robes of virtue, snatches from the poor widow her sole mite and renders the orphan destitute, who will venture to stigmatise the deed by the opprobious epithet of robbery. " Convey the wise it call," says mine ancient Pistol. But let the poor outcast, the starving Lazarus, who tremblingly snatches a morsel of food from pampered Dives, beware, for in him the crime is theft, and must be punished accordingly. I know very well that in these days an exoteric species of language has grown into use. People don't die — oh no, the word is never mentioned to ears polite — they only terminate their existence ; that's all. Treason is ne'er successful ; what's the reason ? When 'tis successful none dare call it treason. Walter Savage Landor has been trying to prove that tyrannicide is not assassination. Well be is a great man — a sort of literary Hercules, though not quite successful in his endeavors to destroy the Hydra. I therefore bow to his dictum ; but yet — shall I confess my dulness — I cannot for the life of me perceive wherein the difference consists. In fact tiiese modern refinements are too subtle for my comprehension. lam one of the old school, and like to hear things called by their proper names. Let that which is sweet be sweetly spoken of, and that which is foul be foul for, ever. In my younger days I knew a worthy old gentleman in the West of England, himself an observer of the " signs of the times," who had a philological scale of the social state of his tenantry. He used to aver that when the goodwife was called " dame," and " porridge " received its own honest cognomen, the neighboring farmers enjoyed plenty and prosperity. In process of time, these vulgar synonyms were exchanged for " mistress " and "broth," and the social equivalent was a bare living. Finally, the farmer's wife became " madam," and the table was supplied with " soup," and the effect of these fine names was a hard struggle to keep up appearances. Evidently there is something in a name after all. The hackneyed query is still more inapplicable if applied to"" personal names. 3Say, it is often positively impertinent. I speak of it now not as originally used by his most glorious hardship, but as perverted by quotation mongers. For instance, who is John Smith or John Jones? A man certainly, and nobody else in particular. Why there are, according to those disagreeble figures of the Registrar General, no less than 13,429 Jones's and 12,637 Smiths in the United Kingdom alone. And I have no doubt they are equally numerous in America and the colonies. Indeed I very much question whether there could be found in any portion of the civilized world a single town which does not contain at least one member of each of these universal families. What becomes then of John Smith's identity ? Smith of Maudlin may be somebody J but who is Smith of London? The Christian name furnishes no means of distinguishing one from another. To say nothing of Johns. | who are absurdly numerous, there are now a surprising quantity of Sydney s; and Albert would have. been as common if the original had continued to ascend Mount Blanc and to smoke his famous nargbily with such indefatigable industry much longer. I agree with Tristram Shandy's respected progenitor that there is a great deal in a name — sometimes I have often doubted whether the career of the late Duke of Wellington would have been so glorious as it was but for haviug been named after the doughty old monarch of the Bound table. Sir Walter Scott's destinies were assuredly greatly influenced by the associations connected with his name. Ido not for an instant pretend to assert that every man or woman is certain to follow in the track of his or her namesake. All Colin Campbells are not heroes. A mere name will neither make its bearer a great warrior, an admired ppet, nor a renowned philosopher. But it will have N great effect on an imaginative temperament. The human mind is naturally imitative and desirous of distinction, if it be but that of a prize-fighter ; and this innate wish of being elevated above the obscure vulgar, causes us insensibly to identify ourselves with those who have previouelyborntbe like name, especially

if sach name be in any way associated with the idea of prominence,- be it honorable or otherwise. Hence parents should studiously weigh the appellation which they purpose to confer on their -children. But what chance, I ask, has John Jones or bis friend Smith to take advantage of this? Clearly none at all. Smith must be Smith for ever more, and Jones will only cease to be Jones when the AngloSaxon race is extinct. I have not given up my morning ride to pen this without a purpose in view. 1 have undergone intense mental torture from my name. I have a double. In those few words are developed the diagnostics of my complaint. I seek a remedy in print ; and if I fail, it will be at least a relief to pour out my sufferings in the ear of the gentle public. My family name is not a common one. At anyrate it is not one of the 50 commonest names in the kingdom. It is Gayte. _ I used to spell it G-a-i-t until a butcher — a plebeian slaughterer of sheep and oxen — who unfortunately i bore the same patronymic, opened one of my letters. This of course was not to be borne, so, without Her Majesty's letters patent, I altered my name to Q--a-y-t-e. I believe this to be the true Saxon orthography of the word, therefore, on national grounds, I was right in so doing. But, for all that, I have never ceased to regret my precipitancy, My paternal parent was a devout believer in the supremacy of the indomitable Anglo-Saxon race. Those are his own words. I have often heard them roll from his lips in rich, round syllables. So when he was constrained to select a cognomen for his only son- — myself — he showed his respect for our glorious ancestors by naming me after the last of the Saxon kings — Harold the Great ; and I am known therefore amongst my friends as Harold Gayte. Until lately 1 was most decidedly under the impression that there was only one Harold G-ayte in the world. If my London friends, who don't even know their next-door neighbors, asked for my address, I gave it confidently " Harold G-ayte, Reading." I used to say " that is quite sufficient ; there are not two of the name in existence." Alas, that dream is over. About eighteen months ago, I was horrified by an advertisement in the second column of the "Times," headed in large capitals Harold G-ayte, and containing the following mysterious announcement : — Return ! and all shall be forgiven. Would you have me die ? My heart is breaking. Come, love, or I perish. — A.B. Now, I have nothing wherewith to reproach myself of this kind ; lan not sentimental ; T never was. In fact I am a sober and discreet, middleaged gentleman. Fancy, then, the consternation which this advertisement excited. Again and again I read it. What did it mean? Was I the victim of some hideous nightmare ? No ; my breakfast was on the table, and gazing at me, with unconcealed astonishment, sat my dear little wife. "What was the matter with me?" " Nothing, only some ." I believe I uttered something like an oath, but possibly I am mistaken. But Ido know that I seriously alarmed Mrs. G-ayte, and' also that, m trying to conceal my confusion, I scalded my throat with boiling coffee. However, putting the best face I could on it, I rose from the table and, smuggling off the paper with as much indifference as my anxiety would permit me to assume, I made my exit from the room, and felt comparatively easy only when I had reduced the whole of the incendiary production to ashes. How I thanked my stars that the eye of my adored spouse had not caught that villanous advertisement. I am — modestly speaking — a very good looking fellow, and, having served six months in the yeomanry, I have ever since worn a pair of moustaches which, from constant training, are, l flatter myself, rather recherch eof their kind. With these advantages and a certain debonair manner makes Mrs. G-. unnecessarily and, in my opioion, stupidly suspicious of me. 'Tis true she is much younger *than myself, having married me at a very early age out of sheer affection, and not at all because of my property. She was the daughter of a neighboring curate of excellent family, remotely descended from John of Gaunt, and was the youngest of five children, all very nice girls ; and I ought to be able to form an opinion of them for they are constantly at our house. For my own part, I had resigned myself to a state of bachelorhood, for an unrequited passion experienced early in life when nearly fifteen years of age, had disinclined me for matrimony, and I looked upon woman Byronically, as the incarnation of falsehood. But the dear girl fell a yictim to my fascinations, . and disclosed her artless affection in so many pretty little ways that I could not but pity and — marry her. Well, if she never told me her love before, she has told it often enough since she became my wife, and if I do but smile upon a woman married or single, the poor thing's affections overcome her", and she either faints away or goes off in screeching hysterics. Then her four sißters and her mother — and sometimes her father — call and solemnly remonstrate with me on the sinfulneßS and impropriety of my conduct, so that I am quite ashamed of myself, and feel only too happy to be able to make my peace by a- new bonnet, or a

dreßS apiece to the ladies, and a dozen of wine to patrefamilias. What on earth would have been the consequences if Eleanor had seen that plaguy advertisement ? However, the danger was all over now, so according to my usual custom, I dismissed all thought of it from my mind, taking care, however, to bribe the postman not to deliver the " Times " next day to anyone but myself, for I thought, possibly, it might re-appear. A week passed away, a fortnight, and no token of any more loving inquiries after me. I should have forgotten all about it, only that Mrs. Gayte with that affectionate thoughtfulness which is her peculiar characteristic — very flattering but somewhat troublesome at times — invariably made a rule of scrutinising the newspaper every morning, lest there should be any news in it unfavorable to my state of health — which she is always assuring me is very delicate — wherein I do think she is mistaken. About last July I had occasion to visit an old'i riend at Great Mario w, and bad passed a few days very agreeably there, when one morning just as I was sitting down to lunch, our servant John galloped in hot haste down the avenue. Expecting to hear of some doleful calamity, I hurried out to the door and received from the panting messenger the following, written in a stiff angular style, wLich I immediately 'recognized as that of my eldest sister-in-law. The contents ran thus :—: — If Mr. Gayte yet possesses sufficient sensibility to desire to see hia broken-hearted wife before she quits this weary world, Miss Barbara Gaunt would advise him to return Jtorne without delay. As such, however, may not be Mr. G.s wish. Miss B, G. trusts she shall not be deemed intruding on Mr. G.s more congenial pursuits by performing this sad office for her sister. Miss B. G. feels she is only doing her duty. P.S. Doctor Willsby doubts if Mrs. Gayte can possibly survive the shock which she has experienced. The mysterious style, the confusing tactics and the peculiar construction of this document puzzled me not a little. I had left my wife quite well. What is the matter ? I asked the messenger. "Don't know, sir, all I hear was missus was took very ill, sir." - "How was it?' When did it happen?" I " Happened this morning, sir. Jane took up the letters and papers, sir, and she said as bow missus just looked at the "Times" and gave a screech as you might a-heard miles off. Then Miss Barbara — " The "Times!" My heart sank within me, and without waiting to hear about Miss Barbara I hurried into the stables, and was soon on the road to Beading. I very much fear that the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would have had a good case against me that morning. • When I arrived at B Grove, I found Mrs. Gaunt awaiting me. My natural impulse was to rush to my darling Eleanor, but that worthy woman prudently delayed me. I can't tell what she said for I really never listened to it ; all I know is that for nearly half an hour she droned away in such a monotonous tone, that I began to fancy that the room we were in was a huge pitcher, and my respected mother-in-law a monstrous fly buzzing within it. But I had too often sub mitted to the spell to break it now, and, therefore, sat like Patience on a monument till she concluded, when, without reply, I flew — if a portly gentleman of forty-seven can be said to fly — on the wings of love to my wife's chamber. Cautiously I tapped at the door, and solemnly was it opened by Miss Barbara, who, with her finger on her lip, beckoned me to enter quietly. Within were the other three sisters, all with their faces buried in white cambric, and " the victim " lay sobbing on the couch iv their midst. Altogether it was a very affecting tableau. In vain I protested that I was innocent of all knowledge of the cause of Mrs. Gayte's illness. Mrs. Gaunt regarded me with unmitigated horror, Miss Barbara with stern contempt, and the other three sisters with withering scorn. As for my wife repulsing my endearments, she threw herself into such a violent state of mind that I was savagely ordered to leave the room whilst the proper remedies were applied. At that moment I felt that I was a brute, but upon my life I did not know for what. Where was the " Times " ? Missus had it. . I was getting desperate. Never before in my life had my equanimity been so shaken. I sent up boldly for the required paper. Jane came back to say that when Mias Barbara could safely leave her sister, she would wait on me. I mastered my emotion, and sat silently, as waiting to hear my doom. After a weary interval, Miss Gaunt marched in. I humbly offered her a chair. She thrust it aside, and, drawing herself up to her utmost height, spoke thus : " Mr. Gayte, I have no doubt your conscience has already informed you of the crime which has transfixed my dear sister's heart. Little did I and our pa and ma imagine when we received you into the bosom of our peaceful family — when we entrusted you with the pride, the pet of our social circle — (here Mit s Barbara wiped her stoney eyes) — little did we think that we bad wrecked her happiness for ever. We believed you to be a gentleman, Mr. Gayte ; wo did not dream

that you wez*e a hypocrite and a libertine."

I was about to offer an observation oif this subject, but my dear sister-in-law waved her hand in so stately a manner that I felt awed. Marching close up to me, till her nose nearly touched my own, she elevated herself on her toes, and, hjssing out the words, " Sir, you're a scoundrel," Bhe threw the "Times" full in my face, and sailed out of the room in a style which would have afforded a lesson to any modern actress. So soon as I recovered my self-pos-session, I picked up tfle newspaper, and glanced at the fatal column. Sure enough there was the cause of all the mischief. Harold Gayte, — Why deceive me ? You have again broken your appointment. Dearest, I have sacrificed ail for your sake. Do not, oh ! do not, desert your once loved Alicia You will naturally suppose that I went into a furious passion — that I tore the execrable print to atoms, and generally went through a series of violent mental gymnastics. But you will be wrong. I was cool as a cucumber. Philosophic gentlemen don't flurry themselves with matters of importance; it is only the bagatelles of life that disturb their equanimity; for when anything is really the matter, they need calm judgment to carry them through. Now, I knew, of course, that I was not the Harold G-ayte indicated, but how to convince my wife, or, rather, her mother and three sisters, of my innocence, I knew not. At first I thought of appealing to the Rev. Algernon, my venerated father-in-law, but I reflected that the good easy man had throughout his married life resigned the right of self-opinion to the jealous guardianship of that strong-minded woman j Mrs. Gaunt. After mature consideration, therefore, I fofded up the accursed paper, put it in my pocket, and, without sending any message to my wife, walked to the Great Western Railway Station, and was quickly en route for Paddington. The fact was, I had what I may term an occasional friend — that is, one who could be put on or off, like a wellfitting glove, at pleasure — living in the immediate neighborhood of Hyde Park. He was a man of the world. Some men are proud of the designation ; I never was. Without laying claim to a peculiarly delicate organisation, I am yet sufficiently sensitive to feel no pleasure, but rather shame, in the imputation of having been a successful rake ; consequently, I have not only been virtuous myself, but anxious to be the cause of virtue in others, and I have never scrupled to invsigh loudly against modern profligacy. Yet somehow I felt that only a man of the world could possibly extricate me from my dilemma. I found my friend, whom I will call Percy, taking a light breakfast of biscuit and soda water, and just sufficiently awake and convalescent to give my case judicious consideration. "Devilish unfortunate," said he, after listening to my statement. " How the doose did the girl find you out ? " In vain I protested that I was altogether guiltless. "It won't do, my boy ! If you were Jack Smith or Tom Jones, such a thing might happen. But Harold Q-.a-y-t-e ; you see, the thing is quite improbable; nobody will believe it. However, if you don't wish to confess, you needn't ; but I'm fly, mind that." " Well, my dear sir," said I, in the most conciliatory tone I could assume (Tor he had uttered the last few words rather sulkily, I thought), " without discussing that part of the question, pray advise me how to convince Mrs. Gayte and her friends of my innocence." " Hang her friends ! It's only the little woman you ought to care about satisfying. I suppose you didn't marry the mother and all the sisters. G-o down and walk boldly in amongst them, and tell them that you are the person advertised, and that if they would like to see Miss Alicia, you will introduce them." I felt myself grow hot with indignation at this atrocious proposal. What, I, the pink of propriety, the pattern of social virtue, confess to an escapade of this kind ! Never ! I changed my mind, however, before I left London — yielding in truth to arguments for which I could find no substantial answers. In pursuance of the proposed plan, I went home, and entering the house as if nothing had happened, sent up my compliments, and wished to know if Mrs. Gayte was more composod; and being told in reply that there had been no change for the better, I lit my cigar, and sat down to the enjoyment of a bottlo of old port. Just then the Rev. Algernon was announced, and that meek divine, gliding into the room, raised his hands and eyes in evident astonishment at my unfeeling conduct. I knew the object of his visit, and was prepared for him. He began with a gentle sigh to deprecate the licentiousness of the age. I cut him short by at once avowing that I bad determined to conceal my delinquencies no longer, and besought him to request Mrs. Gaunt and as many of the junior branches as thought fit to do so, to come down and hear my confession. Of course, they all came ,it would not have been in woman's nature to resist the temptation of hearing a nice little bit . of scandal. When they were seated, I briefly and sententiously informed them of my fictitious iniquity, declared that the mysterious Alicil 'was very dear to me, and that it

was my intention to introduce her to my wife on the very next day. I shall not attempt to portray the consternation with which the family of the Gaunts heard this announcement. Such an effort would exceed my powers of description. Suffice it to say that they stormed, expostulated, and threatened in vain. I adhered to my text, wincing a little, I confess, at the epithets " monster " " brute," and such like, andfeeling considerably frightened when they threatened to carry off "the darling child," as they were pleased to term my wife, to the paternal abode. However, I took Dr. Willsby into my confidence, and he declared that he would not be responsible for the consequences if they removed her. So shaking the dust off their shoes, they took their departure in high dudgeon, and I was left alone with Mrs Gayte.

This was the very thing I wanted. There was now no one to influence my wife's mind. That night I avoided visiting her, and giving her the night to cool, sent up next morning to inquire whether her nerves would permit her to receive me. The answer, of course, was in the affirmative, so I went to see her. 1 found her in a state of profound melancholy, with a decided tendency to hysterics on allusion being made to the advertisement. Without divulging the plan I had formedfor her conviction, lsoleranly assured her that I was not the advertised Harold Gayte. I promised that before night she should receive confirmatory evidence of my and easily induced her — the doctor consenting — to accompany me to London. On our arrival at Paddington station, I at once took a cab for Pall j Mall ; and on the road showed my wife an advertisement in the morning paper running thus • " Harold will meet Alicia at the Duke of York's column, this evening, at half-past six." "Now, my love," said I, "reserve your judgment till you see the fair incognita, when I hope to convince you that I know no more of her than the man in the moon." It was a desperate venture, but in the event of any mischance, my still incredulous Percy, who was unknown to my wife, had agreed to meet me and personate my double. However, when we arrived at the place of assignation, I saw Percy walking rapidly away in the, direction of hte Park, and knew by his gestures hat the manoeuvre was so far successful. Near the column was a female rather showily dressed, whose anxious demeanour informed my sharpened senses that she was the veritable Alicia. She was a fair woman, and had once been handsome, but the corroding fires of passion, and possibly dissipation, had marred her beauty, and stamped her brow with .the signs of premature decay. Dragging my shrinking wife ' along I politely accosted her, and received in reply a stare, which so evidently implied the absence of recognition on her part, that I saw my wife's eyes sparkle with silent pleasure. "Pardon me, Madam," I said, " but I believe you are waiting here for~some one — for Mr. Harold G-ayte in fact." She started, but stood mute, wondering at my knowledge of her business there, and seeking to divine my intentions. In a few words I informed her of the object I had in view. "My name is Harold Gayte. Do you know me ? " She shook her head. " My domestic comfort has been destroyed by advertisements in the 'Times,' coupling my name with yours. It was I who inserted the appointment to meet you here in this morning's paper, for the purpose of convincing this lady, my wife, that I am not the Harold Gatye whom you address." Her face crimsoned with contending emotions, possibly anger and shame. " Insulting !" she exclaimed, turning away. Then suddenly facing round, she said in a soft low tone, "I am wrong ; you have suffered, and I am the unintentional cause. This must be ; I never saw you before, sir, I do not know you." Then coming up to my wife, whose strong inclination to, faint was only repressed by her curiosity, she gazed earnestly in her face, as if to reai her soul with those large flashing orbs, which, seemed to glow with spiritual light. " Poor child," she said, " you are young, and should be happy, I think you are. At any rate lam not, nor even have been, a rival in your husband's - (she winced at the word) affections. Take care you do not forfeit his love by unjust suspicion, for oh, it is more precious than fine gold. Be assured your Harold is not mine ; may my fate never be yours." That night I found myself purchasing the sweetest of sweet pretty mantles for my Eleanor, and afterwards taking her to the Opera. I don't believe that she has ever seriously doubted my conjugal fidelity since ; although I happen to know that Mr. Gaunt and- Mrs. Gaunt and the four Mias Gaunts still persist in regarding me as a vile libertine, and my wife as a weak-minded simpleton for believing that all this was anything more than an arranged plot. But, as Percy said. I did not marry the family, for winch I am thankful. I have not been annoyed by adver-

tisements in . the " Times " since this occurrence. But I have twice been painfully made aware of the existence of my double. Once I received a lawyer's letter threatening to issue a writ against me forthwith, if I did not pay a debt which I never owed, to a person whom I never knew j and on another occasion, I narrowly escaped being blackballed by the members of the Club, in consequence of Harold Gayte, No. 2, having taken the chair at a low, radical meeting, somewhere in the east-end 'of London, I now, therefore,, offer to settle on my double, an annuity for life, if ho will come forward and publicly avowing his non-identification with myself, will enter into a bond to relinquish all claim and title to, and of consent to forego the future use of the name of Harold Gayte.

The following peculiar advertisement appears iv an Auckland paper :—": — " To the single young men of Ngaruawfihia. — A single young lady begs respectfully to inform the single youpg men of JSTgaruawahia that if any of those young men build her a neat little cottage, she will be most happy to set up a' washing establishment- oii tho latest and most improved principles. Each young man must bring and- take .away his own clothes, and also supply his own soap and soda," We would warn all persons against this genius, who after getting up a fine dtiy's sport at Beach worth on St Patrick's Day. under the patronage of several of the leading citizens, quietly skedaddled with the major part of the proceeds, besides victimising several tooconfiding tradesmen. The same gentleman forgot to settle " our little till" when he left Wangaratta, and therefore we can speak feelingly. What a pity it is that such nieu should be allowed to bring pedestrianism — which is a healthful and exciting sport — into such discredit. We should advise all our friends to beware of Edwards, who styles himself the ' Californian Champion Walker,' for although we are in doubt as to his being the crack pedestrian of California (his word is not fii*3 bond) we are perfectly clear on the point of his being the " Champion Sloperunner" of the colonies. Want of space | is our excuse for not publishing a full description of this contemptible loafer, but we may do so on a future occasion. — " Wangaratta Dispatch." . The Duchess. of Newcastle, who was a great writer of romances in the time of Charles 11, asked Bishop Welkins, who had just announced hig. -discovery of a world in the moon, how she could get there. "As the journeys" said she,'" must needs be very, long, there will not be any possibility of getting there without stopping on the way." " Your Grace," replied the bishop, " can be at no loss for places to stop at, as you have built so many castles in the air." The Dunedin "Echo" says:— A reverend old gentleman was lately surprised to find an irreverent reporter taking his smoke in the outer room of the First Church while the "elite of Christianity," to wit, the Synod, were praying inside. Having rubbed his eyes and wiped his spectacles, to make sure his sight did not deceive him. the old gentleman drawled, out with pious pompousness, "Do you believe in the Laur-r-d ?" " A little," rejoined the reporter laconically. The recording angel proceeded with his smoke ; and the person collapsed- It would take a good many weeks of special prayer, even from all the elite of Christianity to convert that reporter. Lord Carnarvon, speaking iv England recently, expressed a hearty appreciation of working men's clubs as a means of uniting different classes of sooiefcy. A notable part of his lordship!s address was an eulogium on good beer and tobacco. The luxuries indulged in at the present time by the laboring man in New Zealand are furnishing material for stories that bid fair to out-do the 'wonderful instances of " Servantgalitm " which used to form so prominent a feature in English newspapers some time ago. Here is the latest, taken from the "Southern Crdss " : — "For some time past, attention has been occasionally drawn to the fact that ' laboring men in the Canterbury Province had been in the habit of going to their daily work in carriages. The Province of Auckland is not a whit behind Canterbury in this respect. F,oi % several weeks past a party of men. employed baling hay for the market, on a farm in the Taranaki district, have indulged in tho luxury of riding every morning to the work in a trap with cushioned seats. They have been earning on an overage 9s 6d per diera, and a few days ago they waited upoa their employer, and represented to him that it Would be necessary for them to receive at least 10s per diera in the future, as they could not keep up a fiorse and buggy upon less. • Holtoway'B Ointment and Pills. — Coughs. Influenza — The shooting properties of these medicaments render them worthy of trial in all diseases of the lungs. In common cods and influenza, the Piils takea intercaily, and the Ointment rubbed externally, are exceedingly efficacious. When influenza i 3 epidemic, this treatment is easiest, safest, and surest. Holloway's Pills and Ointment purify the blood, remove nil clitmuiiej its free circulation thro atsh xh< i.iii.-*-* ti.l;< "c the over-gorged air-fen bos. and mi-icr ! > -■ Nation free, without reducing the sr.ienjth, irritating the nerves, or depressing the spin < .}. Such are ready means of saving sintering when amie'ed with colds, 'eouyna, 'bronchitis, and other complaints by which so many are seriously and permanently afflicted in most countries.