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New Zealand Tablet, 16 September 1915, Page 15

Poor Solomon Stead lay sick in his bed, ’Twas a cold that he’d contracted, With lungs like lead, he was all but dead, . ■ And his wife was nigh distracted. In the stress of her grief she shook like a leaf, But such 5 : anguish was premature, ( For her mother rushed in, and replaced hot gin With Woods’ Great ; Peppermint Cure.