Did the finding of that article save the man's life? That is the question. Is there a divinity that shapes our ends? oF are events but a mere series of accidents, which may happen to one person as well' as another. Are the experiences that compose our lives links in 4 chain, or loose grains of sand? As answer these questions, as you take the one side or the other, so is your-faith; you are a materialist or a believer in Providence. We now propose to relate a story in illustraeffect in arousing those who have always tion of this problem which may have some thought themselves the subjects of blind chance. The following facts are fully vouched for, and resemble occurrences in the lives of W. Grage, multitudes.
Several years ago Grifith Jones was a] and B yr, "9 Banda, W. AL White Bani 4 liceman at Holyhead, Wales. He had a Jienson~'sicter Stanislas, For Vladivostock family consisting of a wife and five young children to take care of, Holyhead is on St. George's (or the Irish) Channel, and is open te the terrific gales that 20 often gather on those dangerous waters and beat with violoner upon the coast. Jones' "post" or "beat" tended back into the country, over the" wind-swept bills. He had to walk "aN this region in all weather, day or} git was often out in winter nights, 80%) darkness, exposed to the stormy" ne Siive in from the'sea. At such times' that, drive 15 to the rattling windows, ar q raved that the husband and father mig" ¢ae no harm in the wild tempest. This ¥ a5 hard lines, but in the family (though *: y6y" were poor enough) there was still heo', a)'and comparative com, fort. But in ® tad storm the policeman caught a heavy cold. Home remedies failed to care ity and the officer sent to his old physician at Aberfiraw for medicine. It did 800. Jones' right side grew "queer" and pelinful. The doctor said it was the liver, and "se was right; but correct opinions don't fne disease. "His head troubled him too, and he was often so giddy he could hardly walk.
T am $0 tired and weary," he would say. uy 'I don't know what makes me.
I try to rest and sleep, but get up just as dead tired as when I go to bed."
Then worse came, He sat do table, but revolted from his food tite was gone. There was a curious feeling at the stomach; it was cold, dull, and miserable, like w furnace which contains nothing but ashes and cinders. A nasty and nauseous kind of gas or wind came up into his throat like the effluvia from a tomb, His wife called attention to the ghastly yellow colour of eyes and skin, and nce in a while he Would have a spell of ratpitation of the heart inst made him afraid', of falling dead—perhaps that made him afraid, gf fall
kept duty all, however, Policeman Jones In spite of ib i)"
fas much as ever be could. Of Bute: *o'would any honest, plucky man.
ut he" sept fitfully, with bad dreams. He crig? out sometimes with the horror of them, going to die?" He was, and is, one of the ad the frightened children said, he a host patient and loving of men, yet now he was cross and surly to his family. Th something new developed. pain under his left shoulder blade; his Xerists and knees grew swollen and painful this was rheumatism, caused, the doctors said, by the undigested und fermented food having poisoned the blood. Kidney and bladder complaint followed—for they also are merely Syinptoms of indigestion and dyspepsia. The policeman now felt that he must ive tp, and if if he did, then what? He could foresee nothing but destitution.
Now we come to the event which suggested the question with which thia short, history begins. Was dent or was it a hal ina saving chain? Entering the Holyhead station house one day, ill, depressed, weak, and miserable, he saw a little pamphlet upon: the table. He picked it up and began to read it. In a few cee his nied was riveted upon its pages. In clear, plain lan-age he found liis own case fully described, just as though the book had been written for for him alone. It named a cure for all his ailments, a medicine called Mother Seigel's Curative Syrup. The plain honesty of the statements won his confidence. He Frenry Wilson, of the Drug Hall, Holyhead.
recured half-a-dozen bottles through Mr.
'Taking it he began to improve, and all his aches and pains vanished in a' few weeks. This ea August, 1879. Ten years hare pened bat nite ign or eyssptorn of his Tiiment has returned, Mr. Jones entered upon a more lucrative business, and wherever he goes he spreads the fame of Seigel's Syrup, and insists that the glimpse of the boos on the table settled the point as to whether he should go under the sod or be the strong new man he has been ever since.
(4)7, 148 2lns 338
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.