THE WORLD RUNS AWAY FROM US.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXIII, Issue 42, 14 February 1896, Page 29

THE WORLD RUNS AWAY FROM US.

The other day we had a talk with a man who knew ac little of tbe world around him as a baby. Yet be wis a man of naturally fino intelligence. He had just been relieved from prison. Ten years ago he was incarcerated under a life sentence. Recently, however, circumstances had arisen which proved his innocence, and he obtained his freedom. But nothing seemed as before. He had been stationary while the world moved on. Many of his old friends were dead, and all were changed. A big slice of his career was lost, and worse than lost. Could he ever make it np ? No, never. Besides, although he had committed no offence the mere fact that he had been convicted of one would always place him at a disadvantage. Different as it is in all outward conditions long illness produced results which resembles those of enforced solitude. When confined to our homes by disease we are virtually out of the world. Friends may, and do, pity us ; but they do not lie down by onr side and suffer with us. Ah ! no. They go their own ways and leave us alone. In the midst of company we ire still alone, Enjoyment food, sleep, fresh air, movement, work, etc. — those are for them not for vs. Alas I for the poor prisoner whose gaoler is some relentless disease. Who shall open the iron doors and set him free 1 " I never had any rest or p'eaeuie " So writes a man whose letter we have just finished reading. "In the early part of 1888" he sa>s, "a strange feeling came over me. I felt heavy, drowsy languid, and tired. Something appeared to be wrong with me, and' 1 couldn't account for it. I had a foul taste in the mouth, my appetite failed, and what I did eat lay on me like a stone. Soon I became afraid to eat, as tbe act was always followed by pain and distress. Sometimes I had a sensation of choking in the throat as if I cou'd" not swallow. I was swollen, too, around the body, and got about with difficulty owing to increasing weakness. "At the pit of my stomach was a hungry, craving sensation as though I needed support frcm food ; yet the little I took did not abate this feeling. My sleep was broken, and I awoke in tbe morning unrefreshed. For four years I continued in this wretched state before I found relief." This letter is signed by Mr Charles H. Smith, of 19 New City Koac, Glasgow, and dated February 15, 1893. Before we hear bow he was at last delivered from the slavery of illness, let us listen to the words of a lady on the same theme Mrs Mary Ann Kushng, of Station Road, Misterton, near Gainsborough. In a brief note dated January 3, 1893, Mra Rushng save she suffered in a smiliar way for over fifteen years. Her hands and feet were cold and clammy, and she was pale and bloodless. She had pain in tha left side and palpi'ation, and her breathing was short and hurried. No medicines availed to help her until two years ago. "At that time, ' she gays, " our minibter, the late Rev Mr Watson, told me of Mother Seigel's Curative Syrup, and urged me to make a i rial of it I did so, and presently felt great relief. It wa9 not long before tho bad symptoms all left nifl, md I gradually got strong, I keeD in good health, and have pleasure in making known to others the remedy which did so much for me." Mr Smith was completely cured by the same remedy, and sava had he known of it sooner he would have been Bayed years of misery The real ailment in both these cases was indigestion and dyspepsia, with its natural const quenefs. Throughout the civilised world its course is marked by a hundred forms of pain and suffering. Men and women are torn to pieces by it as vessels are torn by the rocks on which they are driven by tempests. So comprehensive and allembracing is it that we may almost say that there is no other disease" it signifies life turned into death, br§a<i turned into poison. Watch for its earliest signs— especially the feeling of weariness, langour and fatigne which annonnce its approach. Prevention is better thin cure But, by the use of Mother Seigei's Curaiive Syrup, cure is always possible ; and poor captives in the loathsome dungeorn of illness are daily deliverud as the hand of the good German nurse swings open the doors.