Volume XXXIV.
SUFFOLK, VA., FRIDAY, JUNE 10, 1881
Number *23'.
LITTLE THINGS
We call him strong who stands unmoved—
Calm as some tempest-beaten rock—
When some great trouble hurls its shock;
We siy of him, his strength is proved :
But when the spent storms folds Its wings,
How beats he then life's little things?
We call him great who does some deed
That echo bears from Bhore to shore—
Does that, and then does nothing more
Yet would his work earn richer meed,
When brought before the King of kings,
Were he but great in little things.
We closely guard our castle gates
When great temptations loudly knock,
Draw every bolt, clinch every lock,
And sternly fold our bars and gates;
Yet some small door wide open swings
At the sly touch of little things.
I can forgive—’t is worth my while—
The treacherous blow, the cruel thrust;
Can bless my foe as Christian must,
While patience smiles her royal smile;
Yet quick resentment fiercely slings.
Its shots of ire at little things.
And I can tread beneath my feet
The hills of passion’s heaving sea,
When wind tossed waves roll stormily ;
Yet scarce resist the siren sweet
That all my heart's door softly sings,
“Forget, forget life’s little things.”
But what is life? Drops make the sea ;
And petty cares and small events,
Small causes and small consequents,
Make up the sum for you and me,
Then, Oh for strength to meet the stings
That arm the points of little things !
Family Treasurer.
SELFISHNESS NOT ALWAYS STINGY.
There is a great deal of open-heart
ed and open-hauded selfishness in the
world. Some of the most liberal
girers in the community are thorough
ly selfish. Selfish prodigality is by
no means uncommon. There are
those who look upon themselves as
exceptionally generous, and who are
even so counted by their fellows, who
are unmistakably selfish. This is a
truth that ought to be borne in mind
when we are passing upon the char
acteristics of ourselves, or of those
whom we have a right to judge—
because of our responsibility for their
training. Selfishness is not always
conjoined with stinginess.
Esau was a good illustration of the
thoroughly selfish man, who was
open-hearted, open-handed, aud pro
dignity liberal. He was ready to
spend a fortune for one square meal.
There was uothiug stingy about that.
Men would be a great deal more like
ly to call his brother Jacob close
fisted aud niggardly. But Esau was
really more selfish than Jacob. Esau
lived for self. His parting with his
fortune so reckless was merely
because just then he wanted some
thing more than he wanted a fortune
So with his marrying, and so with
his
his failing to cherish aud retain
anger against Jacob. If he wanted a
wife or two from the heathen nations
about him, be took them. What did
he care for the Lord’s, or his parents,
opinions on that point Y If his wives
didn’t entirely suit the old folks, he
would take another of a different sort
rather than have trouble in the fami
ly. You don’t hear of Esau’s toiling
.away seven years to win a woman
)who had his heart, while all these
’years “seemed unto him but a few
Nvys, for the love he had to her.’
uui was too much taken up with
\f, too much absorbed in his own
‘sonal enjoyment for the hour, to
/love or spite have control of him
r any great length of time. But
'hat did Esau ever do in the line oi
^elf-denying or self-forgetful good tc
fliers! When did he ever seem tc
$ve others the first place iu hisaffec
lions or in his plan Y In what did he
ever show real unselfishness of char
iicter or conduct Y
From Esau down to “Jim” Fisk
this kind of an open-handed, gener
fvous seeming, thoroughly selfish man
(has been a prominent and a populai
(character in the community ; and its
^tside attractiveness has blinded
tie eyes of many to the sharp distinc
Son between selfishness and stlngi
ness, so that those who are known to
give freely, aud to have no taint o1
penuriousness are generally looked
as free from the objectionable trait OI
selfishness. Tet man/ a free giver
is »lotchedly selfish ; aud many an
unselfish man is sadly prone to pen
uriousness.
Ono man gives freely because ol
bis reckless enjoyment of prodigality:
another because of the reputation his
giving brings to him 5 another be
cause of the sense of power thal
comes with the bestowal of gifts ot
others—the creating thereby of a cir
ole of grateful recipients, if not oi
conscious pensioners; another becanst
it is easier for him to give than t<
refrain from giving—with bis tendei
heart and sensitive conscience. In
neither of these instances is it nnBelf
ishness which prompts the giving :
self is in each case at the bottom ol
the apparent generosity. Anothei
test than that of giving, wonld prove
either of these open-handed ones tc
be a selfish persou. Wonld he deny
himself enough to step and look intc
this case to see if it is a worthy char
ity f At a recent public meeting it
Philadelphia in behalf of the Society
for Organizing Charity, the Bev. Dr
Goodwin made an address on “The
nncharitableness o f almsgiving.’
There is a great deal of almsgiving
instead of aid-giving, because of the
selfishness of the givers. Wonld the
giver make just as liberal donations
ia this and that direction, if his name
were never to be known as a
giver f Wonld he want his left hand
to be entirely ignorant of what hie
right hand was doing in the giving
line t Would he be ready to take a
gift from another without rendering
an equivalent, and thereby lose the
prond sense of independence and
superiority his giving now secures to
him, if be were sure that the one to
whom he has been giving, and whose
interests he professes to have at
heart would more enjoy that way ol
doing t Is his giving in any event at
a cost of self-denial to himself, either
iu funds or in feeling t It was said
of a good man in a certain church
thatit was harder for that man to give
a dollar than for apy other church
member, but that he gave more dol
lars in proportion to his means than
any other man in the church. He
might have been called a stingy man
who gave unselfishly. 4^nd there are
other men of his sort. They deserve
more credit than these who,when they
are asked to give, cannot refuse with
out an exercise of positive self-denial.
Free giving is a very poor test and
measure of unselfishness.
Christmas time is a season of giv
ing; but it is by ho means the season
that shews whether or not one is tru
ly selfish. Almost everybody gives
gifts at Christmas time. One is as
haued net to give then. Most per
sons, indeed—especially in';ugood so
ciety”—have to give more holiday
presents than they want to give.
They give to keep up their good
name—their name for generosity—
among their friends and neighbors;
or they give to get a new hold on
some whom they have selfishly neg
lected all the rest of the year. There
is, therefore, a danger to be guarded
against, of putting the enforced oi
customary giving of Christmas time
into the place of unselfish feeling and
doing; just as we too often put Sun
day religious observances into the
place of personal religion for nil the
week through. The giving is all
right, jost as far as it^goes; bat it
doesn’t go far enough; and it is ueith
er a proof of nor a substitute for real
unselfishness and true generosity.
If you were always receiving and
never giving gifts, you would admit
that you were stingy; you would call
yourself mean. So it would be in
your estimate of yous children. You
would be shocked if they found no
enjoyment in giving to others. But
both for yourself and for your chil
dren yon should bear in mind that
one may give freely and heartily and
yet be grossly selfish. Generosity is
literally “nobleness of birth or ol
soul.” He who is realty generous will
show his generosity twelve months in
a year; will show it in uniform cour
tesy of manner; in tender consider
ateness for the feelings of others; ir
self-forgetful or self-denying defer
ence to the wants or the interests oi
tastes of bis companions, in the ordi
nary intercourses of life—whether ii
the parlor; on the play-ground, or it
the place of public gathering or oon
veyance. His unselfishness will noi
hinge upon bis holiday giving; noi
upon his giving at any time of th<
your.
Giving may or may not be com
mendable and beantifnl. Uuselflsh
ness and generosity are always admi
rable. There are selfish givers—
givers who are not stingy bat selfish
There are those who, by their giving
deceive others as to their character
and there are many more who de
ceive themselves into the thoagbl
that1 they are generous because they
give freely and gladly. There are
others, again, who have little to gut*
and who indeed have little thought ol
giving, who are so generous and sc
unselfish that they hardly have t
separate existence either in gettiug
or in giving. They absolutely live
for others—and that is better rai
than giving to others.
"The nature of inch souli li to be blind
To self, and to self-seeking; let them blend
Their life as harmony and atmosphere
With other lives ; let t hem but have a friend
Whose merit they may set off or endear,
▲nd they are gladder than in any guess
Or dream of their own separate happiness.”
Though we bestow all our goods to
feed the poor—or to please the rich—
and have not unselfish,generous love,
it profiteth us nothing.— Sunday
School Times.
NATURE ANO PROVIDENCE.
BY BEV. BICHABD OOBDLEY, D. D.
It is very popular to plead the ne
cessities of nature against the special
activities of providence. It is claim
ed that ‘-science is continually uar
rowing the range of our prayers, and
will In time shut tlftftn out altogether,
by showing that all things are gov
erened by fixed laws. The savage
would pray to have the eclipse avert*
od, but we all know now that its
coming was fixed when the morning
stars sang together. We still pray
that the storm may be stayed, but
the Signal Service has seeu it com
ing three days before our prayef went
up.”
But the discoveries of science are
not all one way. While the domain
of law is found to bo universal, the
margin of possible variation is found
to be wider and wider. Climate is
being reduced to a science. Its chang
es are not freaks of nature, but the
result of definite causes. More and
more its changes are being acoounted
for, and more and more can be pre
dicted.
But while this is so, we arc also
learning more and more how to influ
ence climate. The rainfall of the
praries is being increased by the
planting of trees, while that of oth
er regions is being lessened by the
removal of forests. Great fires briDg
wind ; the firing oi guns is said to
bring rain ; a great battle is often
followed by a storm. Climate is aff
ected by the erection of buildings,the
cultivation of fields, the changing of
water courses. It is claimed that the
building bf the Pacific Bailway has
materially affected the climate of the
plains. It seems hardly credible that
two bands of iron cau modify the cli
mate of a nation. But we do know
that a little rod of iron will turn
aside a thunderbolt, and a number of
them will dissipate a thunderstorm.
Storms and wind and rains are de
pendent on delicate electric currents
which are easily disturbed.
As we are learning Jhe laws of na
ture we are learning to use them.
We are finding points where we can
touch their secret springs. We turn
p way the pestilence by sanitary reg
ulations ; we bauish the malaria by
draining our lands; we divert the
lightning by a rod, We make the
lightning carry our messages, light
onr gas, ring our bells, aud do all
manner of work. Franklin pricked
the clouds with a piece of twine, and
brought the lightning down to his
feet, aud made a servant of it. It
seems pertinent to ask, if man can
thus influence nature and violate no
law and produce no shock, why may
not God do at least as much ? Why
may not he as well as we touch the
secret springs, and produce results
without breaking up the order of
nature or disturbing th%pillars of the
world ?
There is no measuring the possibil
ities in this direction. Nature is full
of the most delicate agencies, which
can be swayed by a touch,or stirred by
a breath. God need but touch as weof
teu do, these delicate forces which in
terweave themselves with the whole
fabric of nature, to accomplish almost
any conceivable result. The finest
forces of nature are her mightiest
forces. Her invisible, imponderable
forces will at any time rend and lift
her solid substances, as a giant might
scatter the playthings of a child. It
was ouce a cumbrous thing to light
the lumps of a great city. But now a
little child may touch the keys, and a
thousand burners flash at ouce for
miles away. Air and earth and seas
1 are full of forces which respond to
the gentlest tonch. To control these
is to control the universe to which
they furnish the energy and the im
pulse.
All these are the servants of God.
He dwells among them aS a living
presence, penetrating a 11 nature
through and through. Among these
mighty forces, on whose borders we
dwell, and whose faint impulse we
feel, God reigns a Sovereigu and a
King. We tonch them here and
there, and easily- attain our ends, lie
holds them in his hands in complete
supremacy. With what infinite ease
he may touch these springs of living
force and attaiu his ends, and there
be no suspension law, no breaking up
of systems, no shock to order.
| God is not a prisoner iu his own
creation. He is not barred out from
the works of his own hands. He says
he hears the cry of the needy, and
nothing science has discovered for
bids his helping them. He says he
hears the prayer of his people, and
the exactness of nature is no hind
rance to his answering those prayers.
We may give science all she claims,
and yet there is room for the divine
sympathy and space for the divine
help—Selected.
WHAT SAVED HIM.
A young wife iu Michigan had just
settled in her new home. All seemed
fair and promising, for she did not
know her husband was a drunkard.
But one night he came home at a very
late hour, and much the worse for li
quor. When he staggered into the
house, his wife, who was very much
shocked, told him be was siuk, and
must lie down at once; and in a mo
ment or two he was comfortable on
the sofa, in a drunken sleep. His
face was reddish-purple, and, alto
gether, he was a pitiable looking ob
ject.
The doctor was sent for in haste,
and mustard applied to the patient’s
feet and hands. When the doctor
came and felt his pulse, and examin
ed him, and found that he was only
drnnk, he said:
“He will be all right in the morn
ing.”
But the wife insisted that he was
very sick, and that severe remedies
must be used.
“You must-shave his head and ap
ply blisters,” she urged, “or I will
send for some one who will.”
The husband’s head was according
ly shaved close, and blisters were ap
plied.
The patient lay all night in a drunk
en sleep, and, notwithstanding the
blisters were eating into his flesh, it
was not till near morning that he
began to beat about disturbed by
pain.
About daylight he woke up to the
most uncomfortable consciousness of
blistered agonies.
“Whatdoes this mean t” he said,
putting his hands to his bandaged
head.
“Lie still; you must’nt stir,” said
his wife ; “you have been sick.”
“I am not sick.”
“Oh, yes, you are; you have the
brain fever. We have worked with
you all night.”
“I should think you had, ” groaned
the poor victim. “What’s the mat
ter with my feet f”
“They are blistered.”
“Well, I am better now : take oft
the blisters—do,” ho pleaded piteous
ly.
He was in a most uncomfortable
state—his head covered with sores,
and his feet and hands still worse.
“Dear,” he said, groaning, “If I
should ever get sick in this way
again, don’t be alarmed and send for
a doctor; and, above all, don’t blister
me again.”
“Oh, indeed, I will! All that sav
ed you were the blisters. And if you
have another such spell, I shall be
more frightened than ever; for the
tendency,I am sure,is to apoplexy,and
from the next attack you are likely to
die uuless there are the severest
measures used.”
He made no further defense. Suf
flee to say that he never had another
attack.—The Golden Senscr.
GO TO THE FOUNTAIN.
Water is water, wherever it is
found ; but there is a great difference
betweeu water which is drawn from
the fountain, aud water dipped from
a stagnant pool. The one refreshes,
the other nauseates; the one is life
giving, the other brings poison and
death.
The word of God is a fountain ol
living water, but how often this wa
ter becomes stale, adulterated, aud
defiled, iu passing through the vari
ous cbaunels of falleu humanity.
There are sermons which have mauy
of th« thoughts of man, aud few of
the thoughts of God. Multitudes ol
men content themselves with a sec
ond hand gospel, which is stale, flat,
and unprofitable. They do not
search the Scriptures, the/' do not
study the living Word, but they de
pend on commentaries, sermons, in
terpretations, and misquotations, aud
thus are led into gross errors, aud
are deprived of the freshness and
vitality which resides in that Word
which liveth aud abideth forever,
The word of God is living and pow
erful, We are to be cleaused ‘ by
the washing of Water by the word
bnt that water mast be living water.
No stagnant pool of human tradition
no turbid current of doctrinal contro
veray, can refteah and eleause the
aauls that thirat and pant for the
living streams which flow from be
neath the throne.
Those who would have living wa
ter must learn the way to the living
fountain, the word of (iod itself. A
writer tells o two wells of the Doge
of Venice: the water of one of them
is brought iu barges from a distance
and few care to taste the insipid
draught; the other is a delicious nat
ural well, cool and refreshing, and the
people strive to obtain water from
this fountain.
Ministers of the gospel, who long
to be of use in this world, must not
content themselves with being mere
sponges to absorb aud then give out
the thoughts and ideas of others;
they must ou the contrary draw wa
ter for themselves out of the wells of
salvation, and know the virtue of
those streams that make glad the
city of our God. Let us turn away
from the torbid waters which men
have fouled and defiled, and let us
learn to drink from the living foun
tain, that which shall be in ns a well
of water springing np into everlast
ing life.—Selected.
MAKE HOME HAPPY.
The happiness of home depends
very much ou the dispositions of its
inmates, no matter what the sur
roundings may be, for this reason if
for no other, we should cultivate ami
ability—that we may make our homes
happy, we wives and mothers only
kuow the many little home-cares,
seemingly trifles in themselves, bnt
in the aggregate which weigh very
heavy upon our hearts, that make np
many a day, but when with aching
limbs and throbbing temples the bur
den of cares seem almost too heavy
for us, if we but lift our hearts in
prayer to “Our Father,” thus “cast
iug our cares upon Him,” remember
ing that “He careth for us,” he will
surely be strengthened. Solomon
says: “Every wise woman buildeth
her house, but the foolish plucketh it
down with her hands.” I have some
times wondered if the wise old king
did not mean, that she laid the foun
dations thereof in wisdom, that its
chief jewel 'the one “pearl of great
price,” and its most precious orna
ment that of a “meek and qniet spir
it,” and if so these materials with
which to build are in reach of all of
us, and we will be happy if we use
them, whether in a palace or a cot
tage.
Especially^hould we endeavor to
make home happy for our little ones,
by words of love, by soothing their
little troubles with gentleness and by
contributing all means iu our power
to iucrease their happiness, they re
member au unkind word long after
we have forgotten it, we should exact
from them obedience and respect and
iu return give them love and kind
ness, thus wiuuiug for ourselves the
commendation of Lemuel. “Her chil
dren arise up, and call her blessed,
her husband also and he praiseth
her.
Dish Washing.—If a womau wish
es to keep her hands soft and chap
less, even while washing dishes, she
need not go to the expense of rubber
gloves but merely use a dish-mop,
aud keep her bauds and temper from
getting into “hot water.” To make a
disk-mop, get a smooth round 3tick,
S or 10 inches long—half of an old
chair rouug will do; wrap a suitable
quantity of soft cotton or linen cloth
(old toweling is best) around one eud
of it, tyiug it ou neatly as brooms are
tied; with this she may have her
dishes in scorching hot water, and
take comfort iu the operation. If the
water is hpt enough, . no soap need
ever be used, except on the very
greasiest pots, kettle aud pans. It is
more difficult to riuse off the nasty
soap than to make all clean without
it. One by one as the dishes are ta
ken from the hot water, they should
be stacked as wood is stacked in a
charcoal burner’s pit, in a pau foi
rinsing with boiling hot water; then
wipe, while hot have two clean wi
ping cloths—one in each hand. No
Angers need ever touch a dish, and
her flue china or self will look as
good as new, and her wiping cloths
keep unsoiled for weeks together.—
Country Gentleman.
Those keepiug sheep should place
salt iu some place accessible daily to
the sheep. It is said that in Spain,
whenever sheep are kept iu the neigh
borhood of rock salt hills or sea salt,
and have access to it, they thrive
better thau in other situations, and
in France the same thiug is found to
exist in the neighborhood of the
coast and the salt works of the Noith;
sheep give more aud better wool, and
the mutton is more highly esteemed
than that from other localities.
Never milk while the cow is eating.
When a con has once acquired the
habit of feeding at milk time, she
will often refuse to let down her milk
unless food is before her.
A RICH EXPERIENCE.
WHAT A PROMINENT AND WELL
KNOWN NEW YORK PHYSICIAN
TOLD A REPORTER.
HiB Revelations Upon a Subject of
Vital Interests to All.
The experience of any one of edu
cation and learning extending ever a
long period of time mast necessarily
be valuable, and while no two expe
riences in this world are alike, there
is snch a similarity between them as
to render one which is rich in valua
ble facta of benefit to all. America’s
greatest orator declared that he
knew of no way of judging the future
but by tha past; and past personal
experience is of the same natures as
that history which repeats itself.
A representative of this paper
while lounging in the lobby of a
prominent Hew Tork hotel, met a
gentleman whom he had known years
before in the city of Detroit, but
; whom he had not seen before for a
number ef years. When the knight
of the quill had last seen this gentle
man, he was giving his entire time
and attention to an extensive medic
al practice, and was on the crest oi
the wave of popularity. From De
troit he removed to New Tork where
he eonld find a more extensive field
for his talents and experience. Al
though several years had passed, the
doctor’s physical condition had evi
dently very much improved, for he
was looking much better than when
the man ef news had last seen him
After some general talk, the dcctoi
; fell into an easy train of conversa
| tion and uttered some truths so sci
entific and valuable, as to justify theii
production in print.
"xea,” said the doctor, “X have lm
proved in health since you last saw
me and I hope also in many othei
ways. One thing however, I havt
succeeded in doing, and it is one 01
the hardest things for any one, ami
especially a doctor, to do and that if
I have overcome my prejudices. Yot
know there are some people who pre
fer to remaiu in the wrong rathei
than acknowledge the manifest right
Such prejudice leads to bigotry of the
worst order, and of precisely tht
same natnre as characterised the
sixteenth century when people wert
burned at the stake. Now I am i
physician of the ‘old school’ order
too, bnt I have, after years ef experi
ence and observatiou, come to the
conclusion that troth is the highes
of all things, and that if prejudice 01
bigotry stand in the way of troth, s<
much the worse for them—they art
certain to be crushed sooner or later
Why, when I knew you iu Detroit
I would have no sooner thought o
violating the core of ethics laid dowi
by the profession, or of prescribing
anything out of the regular order
than I would of amputating my hand
Now, however, I prescribe and advisi
those things which I believe to lx
adapted to cure, and which my ex
perieuce has proven to be such.
“This is rather an unusual way fo
a physician to talk, it is not, doctor?1
“Certainly it is. It is way outsid<
of onr code of ethecs, but I havi
grown far beyond the code. I havi
all I oan atteud to, and am determin
ed to be honest.with my patients am
mankind, whether my brother phy
sicians are with me or not. Why, J
prescribe medicines every day, somi
of them secatled pateut medicines
which would render me liable to ex
pulsion from the medical fraternity
but I am supremely indifferent t<
their laws.
“Are th« medical fraternity of tht
country combined against proprietary
mediciues, doctor f”
“Invariably, aud it is sufficient
ground for expulsion from any med
ical society iu the laud to prescribe
any patent medicine whatever, nc
matter if it is made from an exact
formula, such as physicians are using
every day. You see the code is es
tablished aud sustained by an old
physician like myself, who make the
rules and insist upon their enforce
ment in order to keep the youngei
doctors from obtaining a foot-hold
and eneroachiug upon the already
established practice of the older ones
'Ibis is largely the reason why young
physicians have such a hard time ol
it; they are fettered by the code,
and have only their personal influ
ence to depend upon in seenring
practice.”
“How did you come to get sucl
heretical ideas as these, doctor ?”
“Qh, they are the result of my ex
perienoe and observation. I obtaiuei
my first ideas upon the subject, how
ever, from having been cured after al
ray oare and the skill of 'my profes
sional brethren had failed to relieve
me. Why, I was so badly off with %
complication of troubles, including
dj spepsia, and consequently imper
feet kidneys and liver, that I feared I
shonld have to give np my practice.
For more than a month I conld not
sit down or get up withoot the most
intense agony, and I was suffering all
the while. Some one adviied me to
go ont of the regular channels and
try a remedy that was becoming quite
famous for the remarkable cares it
was effecting; bnt mv prejudice was
altogether too strong for that. How
ever, I did quietly begin trying the
remedy, but I promise you I said
nothing to my brother physicians, or
even to my family about it. Well,
sir, it was a revelation to me; for in
all my medical experience I never
saw anything operate so rapidly or
so effectually as that did. I owe my
health to-day ; and for all I know,
my life also—to the remedy known as
Warner’s Safe Kidney and Liver
Cure. That was the starting point
with me, and my prejudices faded
very rapidly after that I can assure
you. I went to reading extensively,
and analyzing more extensively, and
I supposed I analyzed all the leading
proprietary mediciues that are made.
Many of them I found perfectly use
less, being compounded simply of
water with a little flavoring. A vast
majority of them all, however, I
found made up of prescriptions used
by physicians in their every day
practice; but out of the entire num
ber I found only two that contained
absolutely harmful ingredients and
then in very slight quantities. Indeed
we are prescribing things constantly
that have more deleterions matter in
than they hadj After discovering
this, I said to myself: why should
the medical fraternity be prejudiced
against those preemptions which
they are writiug every day, simply
because they are put up by wholesale
and are sold with a government
stamp on the wrapper. I saw its
manifest absurdity aud resolved that
I would be bound by it no longer.
Since that time, I have prescribed
proprietary remedies every day, in
my practice, and I have no reason to
regret having done so. Why, enly a
few days ago I advised a lady who
was suffering from a serious female
difficulty and displacement to use
this same Safe Kidney and Liver
Cure which cured me. I saw her
this morning and she is nearly well;
, the pain and inflamation are all gone
, and she is around as nsnaL We
have no right in the medical frater
uity to sit back and declare there is
; no such thing as improvement or ad
■ vancement, or that we havp; a mo
i nopoly of the remedies which nature
i has given to mankind. There are
great changes going on in every de
, partment of life and there are great
>' development iu medicine as well.
Thousands of people die every year
; from supposed typhoid fever, rheu
matism or other complaints, when in
. reality it is from trichina, and the
i result of eating poorly cooked and
> diseased pork. A vast majority of
■ all diseases arise from imperfect kin
neys or liver. The liver becomes
• clogged, and its work is thrown npon
’ the kidneys; they become overwork
> ed aud break down, and so the pois
> on gets into the blood instead of be
> ing thrown from the system. No
. one with perfect kidneys or liver is
[ ever troubled with malaria; and it
. is the poisonous particles which these
diseased organs allow to get into the
i blood that clog the capillaries of the
, lungs and cause tnbnrcles -and-eon
sumption. Thousands of children are
dying every year from dropsy as the
, sequel to scarlatina, when in reality
it is diseased kidneys which have be
come weakened by the fever they
have just had. Here is another
strange thing : not one in ten people
who have diseased kidneys notice any
pain in the vicinity of the kidneys,
for these organs lose their nervous
sensibilities when they become dis
eased, and the symptoms are shown
in hundreds of other ways.”
" en, doctor, you have got some
uew truths here, certainly, but they
sound very reasonable to me.”
“Well, whether they are reasona
ble or uot, 1 have demonstrated to
my own satisfaction that they are
true, and I propose to stand by them
no matter how much opposition I
may raise by doing so. Any man,
be he politician, preacher or physi
cian, who is so considerate of his
pocket book or of his own personal
ends as to stultify himself by sup
pressing the manifest truth, is un
worthy the name of man, and un
worthy the confidence of the publio
whom he serves.”
The white of an egg, into which •
piece of alum ab.out the size of a wal
nut has been stowed until it forms m
jelly, is a capital remedy for sprains.
It should be laid over thedprain upoa
a piece of lint, and be'clum§sd as of*'
ten as it becomes dry.