TWO OF A TRADE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXII, Issue XVIII, 6 May 1899, Page 595

TWO OF A TRADE.

That two of a trade seldom agree is a common saying. Its weakness, however, resides in the fact that it is a cavilling, sneering saying. The idea sought to be conveyed is that the disagreement is the outcome of reciprocal jealousy. While that is likely, it is not a necessary, or even a philosophical, inference. Two of a trade may easily see reasons for an honest difference of opinion to which the outsider is blind. Again, two of a trade may agree and both be wrong—on a point, of course, connected with their own industry. Some years ago there was high debate over the question whether a painting, exhibited in Paris, was an original Velasquez or a copy. Half the artists and connoisseurs in Europe got hot under the collar about it. It was one or the other—so they said. Later on the fact came out. It was neither an original nor a copy; it was a replica. The experts were mistaken. And so rums speculative judgment in everything. Here is the case of two doctors, both, doubtless, competent men. If they were wrong, or if only one was wrong. —but let us have the story first. It comes from a reputable source, and is well corroborated. ‘Tn March. 1891,’ says the relater. ‘I had a severe attack of influenza, which prostrated me for two months. After this T could not get up my strength. My appetite was poor, and what little I did eat gave me much pain at the chest and around the heart. Sharp, cutting pains in the region of the heart seized me every now and again, sometimes so bad I feared I was going to die. At night I got little or no sleep on account of wind, which rose into my throat until 1 fairly gasped for breath. During the painful attacks of my complaint perspiration wouild stand in beads upon my face. ‘I soon lost strength to that extent I could not stand. Indeed, I was weak as a child. I was often so dizzy 1 had to catch hold of something to keep me from falling. Several times these attacks have come upon me at concerts, obliging my friends to conduct me home. As time passed on I grew more and more feeble, and abandoned all hope of ever being well and strong again.

‘I had two doctors attending me, who prescribed medicines; which, however, eased me only for a time, and then I was as bad as ever.

‘One doctor said I had pleurisy; the other said I had heart disease.

‘For two and one-half years T lingered along, nearly as much dead as alive, all my relatives and friends thinking I would not recover. In November, 1893, a book was left at my house, in which I read of a case like mine having been cured by Mother Seigel’s Syrup. My wife procured me a bottle from the Provincial Drug Stores in Westgate street, and the first bottle gave me so much relief that I continued with the medicine. 1 could theu eat well, and the food agreed with me; the pain around the heart soon ceasing.

Tn a short time my strength retinrned. and I got back to my work well and vigorous. Since then I have been in the best of health. You -ire at liberty to publish this statement ami refer to me.’—(Signed) William Henry Jervis, 48, Rendlesham Road, All Saints, Ipswich, November 13, 1897. One of Mr Jervis’ doctors pronounced his complaint to be pleurisy; the other said it was heart disease. Were they both right, or both wrong? Or was one right and the other wrong? In the latter case—which one? J edging from the symptoms as set forth by Mr Jervis, the probability is that both were right—as far as they went. The sac or bag which surrounds the heart (called the pericardium), and the sac in which the lungs rest (called the pleurae), are parts of the lymphatic system; which is the especial abiding place and stamping ground of the kind of poison produced by the diseased digestive system, and the cauise of rheumatism, gout, pleurisy, and heart disease. Now, after (if not before) his attack of influenza Mr Jervis suffered from acute dyspepsia with torpid liver, which engendered the poison that set up a mild form of both pleurisy and heart disorder. When the real and underlying ailment of all—the dyspepsia—was cured by Mother Seigel’s Syrup these supplementary or consequential troubles vanished, as might be expected. So we see that —strange as it may seem —two of a trade can differ and both be right.