HE DID NOT GO TO AUSTRALIA.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue X, 28 August 1897, Page 316

HE DID NOT GO TO AUSTRALIA.

Nothing is eas'er than to recommend a man to go to Australia. A dozen words or so ont of your mouth and you have done it. But for him to act on your advice—that is a grey horse of another colour. You see, Australia is half-way round the world ; and to pull up stakes here and go there —family, interests, and all —is a job no man takes in hand save for the strongest sort of reasons.

Yet that is what Mr Emrys Morgan Price, grocer and tea merchant, of Trehafod Road, Hafod, S. Wales, was advised to do by a doctor at Merthyr. Now, we don’t say but that the result, if Mr Price had gone, would have proved the doctor’s judgment to be sound ; but as it happened Mr Price came out all right in the end by just staying at home. The facts are briefly these : In August, 1881, the customary choral competition took place at Abergavenny, and Mr Price attended. In some way—he fails to state how, and it doesn’t matter—he took cold and had a chill. When he arrived home at Dowlais he could scarcely breathe. To draw his lungs full of air was quite impossible. In fact, he felt as if he were snffo eating. Of course, there was no more thought of singing ; the question was one of getting breath enough to live on. He at once tried that good old fashioned remedy, mustard plasters, putting them on his chest and perhaps on his back between the shoulder blades. They relieved him tor the time, as we might expect. Bub mustard plasters do one thing—no more. They draw some blood from the inflamed parts to the surface; that’s al). When they have set np a bit of mild counterirritation they are done ; they don’t get down to deep causes. And here there was a deep cause. We will point it out presently. There was a constant whistling noise in bis throat, he says. You hear it in children when they have croup. It means that the air passages are contracted and the breath has to pass violently through a sma'l orifice. Disease has often strangled people to death that way. * Next,’ he says, *a violent cough set in. I coughed and spat up thick phlegm night and day.’ This meant more and worse inflamma-

tion, and shows us the spectacle of Nature trying to get rid of the product—the phlegm or mucus. But to cough night and day ! Think of it. What becomes of a man’s appetite and sleep ? You can imagine. No wonder the doctor at Merthyr was anxious and suggested a change of climate.

Still, Mr Price, as we have said, remained at home and consulted other physicians, one at Dowlais and one at Hafod. All the doctors agreed that their patient was suffering from acute bronchitis, and very properly treated him for that. Yet somehow their medicines failed to effect any real and radical good. That they were temporarily helped we may not doubt. But, you see, bronchitis once seated, is an obstinate and progressive ailment. It has a tendency to take up new ground and to get down on the Inngs, the reason being that the lining of the air passages and of the lungs is all one thing. So an affection of any part of it, if not cured, spreads like fire in dry grass. * As time went on,’ says Mr Price, * I got weaker and weaker, and my breathing became distressing to hear. All my friends thought I was in a consumption, and as a sister of mine had died of that complaint, I naturally felt alarmed. Indeed, one night in July, 1885,1 was so bad that my wife thought*l was dying. Happily the lady was mistaken, yet death sometimes comes with fearful suddenness in that complaint, and her fear was very reasonable. At that time, please remember, our good friend had suffered about four years, and was in a state of low vitality. The whole body was feeble and exhausted, and there would have been nothing surprising in a fatal termination. But a better result was in store, as we shall now see.

Mr Price’s letter, dated August 16th, 1893, concludes in these words :— * Better and worse I continued in the power of this malady year after year, and had given up hopes of ever getting better. In February. 1887, after having endured it five and a-half years I.read of a person at -Pontypool having been cured of the same thing by Mother Seigel’s Curative Syrup. I got a supply of it, and in a few days I felt relief. I kept on with it and gradually improved. In six months the cough had left

me and I was a well man. Since then I have been sound as a bell. If you like you may publish my statement and I will gladly answer any inquiries. (Signed) Embys Morgan Prick/ Good 1 That is pleasant and cheering to hear. One word—an important word. Bronchitis, pneumonia, rheumatism, gout, nervous disorders, liver complaint, kidney trouble, and most of our familiar diseases are caused by poison in the blood ; and the poison is produced by stomach fermentation, indigestion, and dyspepsia. Consumption itself comes in the same way. Mother Seigel’s Curative Syrup drives out the poison and stops the manufacture of more. That’s why it cured Mr Price and will cure anybody.