"AS HAPPY AS A KING."

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume XXXXVII, Issue 11796, 2 December 1902, Page 2

"AS HAPPY AS A KING."

This old saying, like a good many others, is founded upon ignorance, and therefore completely misleading. As a matter of fact kmga have rather less of happiness than falls to the share of most private men. Take at random .from history the lives of any fifty kings ~ou will and comipaae them with, the Jlives of anr- fiftiy -rivate men, also taken at random, and I'll wager you my last sixpence you'll find the balance of happiness inclines heavily to the private men. To be heralded by dram and trampet wherever you go, to ba spoken of either in terms of the extremest adulation or of vu^ar abuse, and to serve as a target for the revolver ipractice of every crank who nurses a grievance, is not nulte the life a wise man would choose if his* will had anything to do with the matter. "I wish'l "were a king," said Jones to his friend Brown; "not what is nowadays called a king, but a real kin- as of old—one with authority to have a f&w people killed now and again when he felt like it." "You are neither a king nor a man," replied Brown, "but an ass without ability to eat thistles." Brown wayS right. Of all" ambitions which swt- mortal man, that which cost imperial Caesar his life—ambition to become a- king —has least of wisdom in it, and is only to bo accounted for by the monstrous fallacy of supposing that kings are, per se, happier than other men. These thoughts occur to us in considering the case of Mr William Highett, of 7, Elder Street, Adelaide, S.A.. who, we were about to say, was as happy as ■& king about three * ears ago. But that wouldn't be - rifrht. With his youthfulnAss, his health, strength, and sufendid physique, Mr Highett should have been, and doubtless was, happier than any king who could be named. Mi' Highett thus writes on the 10th of March, 1902— "I am a native of South Australia, twentyfive years of1 age, and until three years ago never knew what it was to be seriously ill. At that period I was engaged in bush work, right in the heart of the rouo-h North-East District. The work was extremely laborious, the food coarse, and the climate red hot. These conditions completely brokf down my health. I grew weak and thin, continually felt out of sorts, and would get up in the morning feeling more tired than when I vent to bed. There was a tight feeling, a distressing sense of oppression about the .chest, and I was much troubled by flatulence, which fi-~uently competed me to rise from mv bed and walk the floor fov hours. I tried all sorts of pills and medicines for my complaint, but none of them did me any good. Finally I grew so weak that I had to give up my employment, having lost twenty-eight pounds in weight. I then went to Adelaide, and placed myself in the care of a first-class doctor, who said that my trouble was a bad form of indigestion; but though he treated me for a considerable time I gained no relief. It was at this crisis tha,t a little book was left at the house, which, fortunately examining, I foxmd to be an almanac issued by the proprietors of Mother Siegel s Curative Syrup. In this little work I read of the case of a person whose symptoms were very similar to mine, and avlio claimed to have "been thoroughly .cured by Mother Siegel's Curative Syrup. This fact determined me tota-y it, and I obtained a bottle without delay." A very few doses were sufficient to cause a great improvement in my condition, which encouraged me to r>er : severe with it. the result being thati^m a few weeks I felt like a new man. I could eat heartily and em'oy my food, the flatulence disappeared, mv sleep was sound and refreshing, and strength and cheerfulness returned to me. That was twelve months ago. and I have enjoyed the best of health ever since. I always keen a bottle of it by me, and take a dose from time to time, believing that prevention is better than cure.."

Morning—ll-0