ONE THOUSAND LLAMAS LADEN WITH GOLD.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XVIII, Issue XXIV, 12 June 1897, Page 747

ONE THOUSAND LLAMAS LADEN WITH GOLD.

Who doesn’t like to read about buried treasure ? Who hasn’t dreamed of finding it? What delight suddenly to possess vast riches? Shining gold, sparkling gems! Things for which we have not been obliged to scheme or toil; that will free us from all need of scheming or toiling thereafter ! Ah, let us not indulge such fancies. They make work seem like slavery and wages like pinches of common dust. Yet that such hidden masses of wealth exist there is no doubt. But where are they ? About four centuries ago the Emperor of Peru was a captive in the hands of the Spaniards. His people sent a train of 1,000 llamas (a small beast of burden resembling a camel) laden with gold to ransom him. While on their way, crossing the Andes mountains, the men in charge of the expedition heard of the death of the Emperor, and concealed this enormous treasure so effectually that not a trace of it has ever been found. Go aud dig it up, and yon will never again feel the sting of poverty. But clap the brakes down hard on the wheels of your imagination. What was money to Robinson Crusoe ? What would the wealth of Peru have been to Mrs Jane Stranks, during a certain period of eighteen months that she tells about ? Dust, my dear fellow, countless pinches of common dnsb. Here is the reason why—one moie picture of that fearful furnace in which all earthly desires are melted into one prayer—- • Oh, God, deliver me from pain" * In June, 1891,’ she says, I had an attack of influenza, followed by bronchitis, which left me very low and feeble. I had no appetite, and the little food I forced myself to take gave me pain and palpitation of the heart. I had a weary sinking feeling at the pit of the stomach and was obliged to fight for my breath. I had a continuous hacking cough, and spat up quantities of thick phlegm. Later on I bad gout all over me, as it were, my hands, face and legs being puffed up, and was in agony day and night. I became so weak, I could not raise my band to my mouth, and had to be fed. * For months I lay perfectly helpless and almost lifeless, having to be lifted in and ont of bed. Four doctors attended me for nine months without effect. Then they told me they could do nothing for me, one of them giving me a letter of recommendation to Guy’s Hospital. At Easter, 1892, my husband took me in a cab to that hospital, and I was placed in the Miriam Ward, and examined by several doctors. *At this time a hard substance seemed to have formed in my stomach, which the doctors said was a tumour, and treated me for it. I got weaker and weaker, until one night the nurse told me that the doctors had said 1 was as bad as I could be, and would not probably live through the night. * The nurse placed a screen around my bed, expecting me to die

• Taking a slight turn for the better, I returned home, but was soon as bad as ever. After this I got a letter of recommendation from our landlord, and attended as an outdoor patient at Victoria Park Hospital. After being under treatment a month, I lost all faith in medicine and gave up taking it. I was now little more than a living misery. I was tired of life, and often prayed that the Almighty would take me. I now had fits of shaking so bad that the bed trembled under me. My bead was so full of pain that I thought I was going mad, and several times a day I lost consciousness. * In this dreadful condition I lingered on until November of last year, 1892, when a book was left at our house telling of a medicine called Seigel’s Syrup. I had lost all hope of getting well, but my husband would have me try this medicine. To please him I did so, and, after taking it a few days, I felt a little relief. My breathing was easier and my appetite revived. Continuing with the medicine, all pain gradually left me, and I gained strength daily. In six weeks I was able to go about the bouse and do light work, the first time I had done anything in eighteen months I am now in good health, and able to do any kind of work. I owe my life to Seigel’s Syrup, and wish my case to be made known.' (Signed ) Jane Stranks, 22, Gaywood Road, Hoe Street, Walthamstow, near London, April 20. h, 1893.’ No words of comment can be too strong for a case so remarkable. We stand before it at a loss what to say. It is not a miracle, of course ; although many a reputed miracle has been less wonderful. How is it possible that Seigel’s Syrup

could, with sueh apparent ease, have restored to health a person in so desperate a strait ? Yet that it did restore her is certain. The facts have been thoroughly investigated and established beyond dispute. Mrs Stranks was on the crumbling edge of the grave, and was thence brought back to the region of health, activity, and enjoyment. How was it done? There is the simple secret. The influenza left her whole system debilitated, as it usually does. In digestion, which in the first place invited influenza, attacked her with increased power. Asthma, beartdisturbanee, nervous prostration, the inflamed and congested stomach, which was mistaken for a tumour, etc., etc.—all results and symptoms of arrested digestion—followed. The private and also the hospital treatment failed, because it was directed to the symptoms, not to the cause. Finally, Mother Seigel’s Curative Syrup was appealed to, and responded by setting the digestive function in operation, expelling the poison from the blood, and placing Mrs Stranks at the head of her house, a saved woman. But it was a marvel all the same. As to that pile of treasure hidden in the Andes. We should like to have it. Ob, yes. No use saying we shouldn’t. Bnt a« between riches and health—give us health. For what would gold have been to M-a Stranks the night she lay behind the screen —given up to die ? Ask yourself that question.