Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, August 24, 1907, Page 7

TEN YEARS OF PAIN: | Unable to Do Even Housework Be- cause of Kidney Troubles. Mrs. Margaret Emmerich, of Clin- ton St., Napoleon, O., says: “For fifteen years I was a great sufferer from kidney trou- bles. My back pained me terribly. Every turn or move caused ° sharp, shooting pains. My eyesight *. Was poor, dark spots / appeared before me, and ‘I had dizzy spells. For ten years CHAPTER VII.—Continued. ; I could not do housework, and,for two! for some time past every one had years did not get out of the house.|;emarked the apparent and growing The kidney secretions were irregular, |intimacy between the lost man and and doctors were not helping me.|Miss Marjorie Poole, who was en- Doan’s Kidney Pills brought me quick] gaged to the famous scientist, Sir Alive or Dead? The Strange Disappearance of Gerald Rathbone. By GUY THORNE. relief, and finally cured me. saved my life.” They | William Gouldesbrough, F. R. S. How far matters had gone between the Sold by all dealers. 50 cents a box./young couple was only conjectured, Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. Caution. but at the moment of Rathbone’s dis- appearance it was generally believed that Miss Poole was about to throw “That younger lawyer friend of over Sir William for his young rival— yours.” “Well?” “Has he popped the question?” “Only hypothetically.” Does Your Head Ache? , 1f so, get a box of Krause’s Headache Capsules of your Druggist. 25¢. Norman Lichty Mfg. Co., Des Moines, Ia. Rivalry. “I,” said Ohio, proudly, “am a moth- er of presidents.” “Paranoiac,” sneered Virginia; “at most you are no more than a step- mother.” Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup. For children teething, softens the gums, reduces in flammation allays pain,cures wind colic. ca Vottle A man’s enthusiasm for exercise de pends largely on whether he is hand- ling a ball bat or a lawn mower. GUNS, TRAPS, DECOYS, ETC. Lowest pi s. Write for free catalog No. 1 N. W. Hide & Fur Co., Minneapolis, Minn. Heavyweight Kitchen Folks. “Tt will do you more good to smell food that is being cooked than it will to eat it after it is cooked,” was the astounding statement made by a res- taurant man. “That is the reason why so many professional cooks are heavyweights. You never saw any one who became a chef and stayed at it any length of time but became fleshy. Cooks never eat to any great extent, except to taste the food at times while it is being cooked in order to see if it is done. It is the odor of the food in the kitchen that makes them fat. The same will apply in the case of the housewife. Continuous work in the kitchen makes fleshy ‘women and healthy women. Cooking is the healthiest occupation in the world.” Saving Further Trouble. a Ambassador Bryce at a dinner in Urbana, Ill., gave a young lady some tips on European travel. “And above all,” he said, “don’t fail to tip your cabman liberally. Han- soms and four-wheelers would be cheap in London if one only paid the legal fare for them, but he who tries to pay the legal] fare—well, he doesn’t try it more than once. “One day I saw an old lady stop a this was the elegant way in which men talked in the clubs and women in their drawing rooms. Nothing is hidden nowadays, and the fierce light of publicity beats upon the doings of the countess and the costermonger alike. The countess may, perhaps, preserve a secret a lit- tle longer than the costermonger, and that is the only difference between them in this regard. ‘ Accordingly, on the fifteenth or. six- teenth day of the mystery, a sensa- tional morning paper published a spe- cial article detailing what professed to be an entirely new light upon the situation. If statements affecting the private and intimate life of anybody can be called in good taste, the arti- cle was certainly written with a due regard to proprieties and with an ob- vious attempt to avoid hurting the feelings of any one. But, as it was pointed out in a prefatory note, the whole affair had passed from the re- gions of private life into the sphere of national interest, and therefore it was the duty of a journal to give to the world all and every fact which had any bearing upon the affair, without fear or favor. This article, which cre- ated a tremendous sensation, was in substance as follows: It hinted that a young lady of great charm, and moying in the highest cir- cles, a young lady who had been en- gaged for some little time to one of the most distinguished Englishmen of the day, had lately been much seen with the vanished man. ‘The gossip of society had hiated that this could mean nothing more or less than that the young lady had been mistaken in the first disposal of her affections and was about to make a change. How did this bear upon the situa- tion? During the next day or two, though no names were printed, it became generally known who the. principal characters in the supposed little drama of love really were. Every- body spoké freely of old Sir Freder- ick Poole’s distinguished daughter, of Lady Poole of Curzon street, and of Sir William Gouldesbrough, the fa- mous scientist. When the article first appeared ev- erybody began to say, “Ah, now we shall have the whole thing cleared up!” But as the days went on people began to realize that the new facts threw little light upon the mystery, hansom. look up at the driver and say timidly: “Driver, I want to go to Ludgate circus. I see by the book that the le- gal fare is two shillings. If I give you three will you promise not to swear at me afterward?’” FOOD FACTS y Grape-Nuts FOOD A Body Balance People hesitate at the statement that the famous food. Grape-Nuts, yields as much nourishment from one pound as can be absorbed by the system from and only provided a possible motive for Mr. Gerald Rathbone’s suicide. And then once more people were com- pelled to ask themselves if Mr. Rath- pone really was in love with Miss Poole, and had found that either she would have nothing to say to him or that she was inevitably bound to Sir William Gouldesbrough in honor. Then when, how, and where did he make away with himself? And to that question there was ab- solutely no answer. CHAPTER VIII. The Chivalrous Baronet. Lady Poole and her daughter had | been living in rooms in the great Pal- ace hotel at Brighton, for a fortnight. Marjorie, utterly broken down by ‘the terrible mystery that enveloped her, and shrinking from the fierce light that began to beat upon the de- tails of her private life, had implored her mother to take her from London. ten pounds of meat, bread, wheat or oats. Ten pounds of meat might con- tain more nourishment than one pound of Grape-Nuts, but not in shape that the system will absorb as large a pro- portion of, as the body can take up from one pound of Grape-Nuts. This food contains the selected parts of wheat and barley which are pre- pared and by natural means predi- gested, transformed into a form of sugar, ready for immediate assimila- tion. People in all parts of the world testify to the value of Grape-Nuts. ‘A Mo. man says: “I have gained ten | easy-going society dame into some-| pounds on Grape-Nuts food. I can truly recommend it to thin people.” He had been eating meat, bread, ete., right along, but there was no ten pounds of added flesh until Grape-Nuts food was used. There had been a stormy scene be- tween the old lady and her daughter when, the day after Marjorie had written to Sir William Gouldesbrough telling him that she could not marry him, she had confessed the truth to Lady Poole. In her anger and excitement the elder woman had said some bitter and terrible things. She was transformed for a space from the pleasant and thing hard, furious, and even coarse. Marjorie had shrunk in amazement and fear from the torrent of her moth- er’s wrath. And, finally, she had been able to bear it no longer and had lost One curious feature regarding true | consciousness. health food is that its use will reduce the weight of a corpulent person with | dowager. Allowances should be made for the She was a society woman, unhealthy flesh, and will add to the| 800d and kind as far as she went, but weight of a thin person not properly |Purely worldly and material. nourished. There is abundance of evidence to prove this. The ope of her life had seemed gained when her daughter became engaged to Grape-Nuts balances the body in a| Sir William. The revelation that, after condition of true health. Scfentific se-| ll, the engagement was now broken, lection of food elements makes Grape-} W@S nothing more than a delusion, Nuts good and valuable. Its delicious| @Md that a younger and ineligible man, flavor and powerful nourishing prop- erties have made friends that in} WOR mm the worldly point of view, had Marjorie’s affection was a terri- t h de Grape-Nuts famous, } dle blow to the woman of the worlds page sana Bead “The Road! All her efforts seomed useless. The to Wellville,” in pkgs. : . object of her life, so recently gained, so thoroughly enjoyed, was snatched away from her in a sudden moment. But when Marjorie had come to her- self again and the doctor had been summoned to treat her for a nervous shock, she found her mother once more the kindly and loved parent of old. Lady Poole had been frightened at her own violence, and repented bit- terly for what she had said. She tend- ed and soothed the girl in the sweet- est and most motherly way. And with- out disguising from Marjorie the bit- ter blow the girl’s decision was to her, she told her that she was prepared to accept the inevitable, and to reorgan- ize all her ideas for the future. And then had come the black mys- tery of Gerald’s utter vanishing from the world of men and women, Lady Poole had always been fond of Gerald Rathbone; and now, by a curi- ous contradiction of Nature, when she had schooled herself to realize that it was on this man her daughter's life was centered, the old lady was terri- bly and genuinely affected at Gerald’s disappearance. No one could have been more helpful or more sympathet- ie during those black hours, and she gladly left Curzon street for Brighton in order that she might be alone with her daughter, and endeavor to bring her back in some measure to happi- ness, to interest in life. Soon after Marjorie had written her letter to Sir William, Lady Poole had received a reply from the scientist, en- closing a short note for her daughter. It had been a wonderful letter. The writer said that he could not disguise from ‘himself that he had seen, or at least suspected, the way things were going. “Terrible,” he said, “as this letter of your daughter’s has been to me, it would yet ill become me not to receive it as a man. I had hoped and believed that a very happy life was in store for me with Marjorie, and for her with me. Then I saw that it was not to be, and Marjorie’s letter comes as no surprise, but as only the definite and final end of my dream. Dear Lady Poole, do realize that, despite all this, it will always be my duty'and my priv- ilege to be the friend of you and of your daughter if you and she will per- mit me to be so. I have told her so often how 1 love her, and I tell her so even now. But love, as I understand it, should have the element of self sacrifice in it, if it is true love. I will therefore say no more about my per- sonal feelings except in one way, Just as my whole life would have been de- voted to making your daughter happy, so I now feel it my duty to devote my- self as well as I can to making her happy in another way. She has chosen aman no doubt more worthy to be her husband than (I should ever be. You will forgive a natural weakness if I say no more on this point, but the great fact is that she has chosen. Therefore, I say that my only wish is for her lifelong happiness, and that all my endeavors, such as they are, will be still devoted to that end. Let them be happy, let them be together. And if I can promote their happiness, even though my own heart may be broken, believe me, dear Lady Poole, it is my most fervent wish. “Will you give Marjorie the en- closed little note of farewell? I shall not trouble her more, until perhaps some day in the future we may still be friends, though fate and her decis- ion have forbidden me to be anything more to her than just that. “Believe me, my dear Lady Poole, in great sorrow and in sincere friend- ship, —“William Gouldesbrough.” So the two ladies had gone to Brighton, and while the press of the! United Kingdom was throbbing with excitement, while hundreds of people were endeavoring to solve the strange mystery of Gerald Rathbone’s disap- pearance, the girl more nearly inter- ested in it than any one else in the world stayed quietly with her mother at the pleasant seaside town, and was not molested by press or public. Marjorie had become even in these few days a ghost of her former self. The light had faded out of her eyes, they had ceased to appear transparent and had become opaque. Her beauti- fully-chiselled lips now drooped in pathetic and habitual pain, her pallor was constant and unvarying. She drank in the keen sea breezes and they brought no color to her cheeks; she walked upon the white chalk cliffs and saw nothing of the shifting gold and shadow as the sun fell upon the sea, heard nothing of the harmonies of the channel winds. Her whole heart was full of a passionate yearn- ing and a dull despair; she was like a stately flower that had been put out of its warm and sheltered home into an icy blast, and was withered and black- ened in an hour. Kind as her mother was, Marjorie felt that there was nobody now left to Jean upon, to confide in. A girl of her temperament needs. some _ stronger arm than any woman can provide to help and comfort, to keep awake the fires of hope within her, and nothing of the sort was hers. In all thé world she seemed to have no one to confide in, no one to lean upon, no one who would give her courage and hope for \ } i jorie knew, though her mother only ‘At the end of the first fortnight Mar- just referred to the matter, that let- ters were daily arriving from Sir William Gouldesbrough. One evening Lady Poole, unable to keep the news from her daughter any longer, told her of the communica- tions. “I dare say, darling,” the old lady said, “I may give you pain, but I think you really ought to know how wonder- fully poor, dear William is behaving in this sad affair. Though it must be terribly hard for him, though it must fill him with a pain that I can only guess at, he is moving heaven and earth to discover what has become of your poor dear boy. He is daily writ- ing to me to tell me what he is doing, to inform me of his hopes, and I tell you, Marjorie, that if human power can discover what has happened to Gerald, William Gouldesbrough will discover it. Do realize, dear, what a noble thing this is ‘in the man you have rejected. Whenever I receive his letters I cannot help crying a little; it seems so noble, so touching, and so beautiful of him.” Marjorie was sitting at the table. The ladies dined in their private rooms, and it was after the meal. Her head was in her hands and her eyes were full of tears. She looked up as her mother said this, with a white, wan face. “Ah, yes, dear,” she replied, “there is no doubt of that; William was al- ways noble. He is as great in heart as he is in intellect. He is indeed one of the chosen and best. Don’t think I don’t realize it, mother, now you've told me; indeed I do realize it. My whole heart is filled with gratitude to- ward him. No one else would have done so much in his position.” - “You do feel that, do you, dear?” Lady Poole said. “Oh, indeed I dé,” she answered, “though I fear that even he, great as his inteliect is, will never disperse this frightful, terrible darkness.” Lady Poole got up and came round to where her daughter was sitting. She put her hand upon the shining coils of hair and said: “Dear, do you think that you could bear to see him!” “To see William?” Marjorie answer- ed, quickly, with a curious catch in her voice. “Yes, darling; to see William, Would it give you too much pain?” “But how, why, for what reason?” “Oh, not to revive any memories of the past; there is nothing farther from his thoughts. But this morning he wrote me the very sweetest letter, saying that in this crisis he might be able to give you a little comfort.” “Has he discovered anything, then?” Marjorie asked. “I fear not as yet. But he says that at this moment you must feel very much alone. As you know, he is do- ing all that mortal man can. Of course, I have told him how broken you are by it all, and he thinks that perhaps you might like to hear what he is doing—might like to confide in him a little. ‘If,’ he says in his let- ter, ‘she will receive me as a brother, whose only wish is to help her in this dreadful trial, can I say how proud and grateful I shall be to come to her and tell her what I can?’” Marjorie gave a great sob. It was too much. In her nervous and weak condition the gentle and kindly mes- sage her mother had given her was terribly affecting. “How good he is!” she murmured. “Yes, mother, if only he would come I should like to see Aim.” “Then, my dear,” Lady Poole re- plied, “that is very easily arranged, for he is in the hotel to-night.” (To Be Continued.) How the Name Originated. A Northern tourist who was riding in a leisurely way through Western Georgia stopped one hot day to rest at a cottage occupied by an old colored man and wife. “Uncle,” said he, fan- ning himself with his hat, “how much further is it to Col. Jeffrey’s big plan- tation?” “Bout five mile, suh,” answered the aged darky. “Good roads?” “Mos'ly up hill an’ down, suh.” “Have you ever been at the colonel’s place?” “I wuz bawn dah, suh.” “They call it the Renfrew, don’t they?” “Yes, suh.” “How did it ever get the name of Renfrew?” “I allers ‘lowed, boss, it wuz ’cause de man wot owned it befo’ de wah run froo wid it in ’bout four yeahs.” His Deaf Friend’s Mistake. “I always hate to tell a story,” said a well known actor at a banquet, “be- cause my listeners may have heard it before. What boredom that is for them, what agony for me! It is like the case of a friend of mine. He is deaf, but tries to conceal his deafness. One night at a dinner the host told a story at whieh everybody roared, and my dear friend joined in and outroared the whole table, though in truth he hadn’t heard a word. “At the end of the laughter he held up his hand as a sign that he wanted to speak. ARE PHYSICIANS’ PRESCRIPTIONS NOSTRUMS? To one not qualified, and few lay- men are, to discriminate intelligently between physicians’ prescriptions, pro- prietary medicines and nostrums, it may seem little short of a crime to hint even that physicians’ prescrip tions are in any manner related to nostrums; nevertheless, an impartial examination of all the facts in the case leads irresistibly to the conclu sion that every medicinal preparation compounded and dispensed by a physi- cian is, in the strict sense of the word, a nostrum, and that the average; ready-prepared proprietary remedy is superior to the average specially-pre- pared physicians’ prescription. What is a nostrum? According to the Standard Dictionary a nostrum is “a medicine the composition of which is kept a secret.” Now, when a physi- cian compounds and dispenses with his own hands a remedy for the treat- ment of a disease—and it is authorita- tively stated that probably 60 per cent. of all physicians’ prescriptions in this country are so dispensed—the names and quantities of the ingre- dients which constitute the remedy are not made known to the patient. Hence, since its composition is kept a seeret by the physician, the remedy or prescription is unquestionably, in the pure nostrum. Furthermore, the pre- scription compounded by the average physician is more than likely to be a perfect jumble—replete with thera- peutic, physiologic and chemical in- compatibilities and bearing all the ear- marks of pharmaceutical incompe- tency; for it is now generally admitted that unless a physician has made a special study of pharmacy and passed some time in a drug store for the pur- pose of gaining a practical knowledge of modern pharmaceutical methods, he is not fitted to compound remedies for his patients. Moreover, a physi- cian who compounds his own prescrip- tions not only deprives the pharmacist of his just emoluments, but he endan- gers the lives of patients; for it is only by the detection and elimination of errors in prescriptions by clever, competent prescriptionists that the safety of the public can be effectually shielded from the criminal blunders of ignorant physicians. Nor can it be said that the average physician is any more competent to formulate a prescription than he is to compound it. When memorized or di- rectly copied from a book of “favorite prescriptions by famous physicians,” or from some text-book or medical journal, the prescription may be all that it should be. It is only when the physician is required to originate a formula on the spur of the moment that his incompetency is distinctly evi- dent. Seemingly, however, the physi- cians of the United States are little worse than the average British physi- cian; for we find Dr. James Burnett, lecturer on Practical Materia Medica and Pharmacy, Edinburgh, lamenting in the Medical Magazine the passing of the prescription and bemoaning the fact that seldom does he find a “final man” able to devise a prescription even in “good contracted Latin.” And what, it may be asked, is the status of the written prescription—the prescription that is compounded and dispensed by the pharmacist—is it, too, a nostrum? It may be contended that the patient, with the written formula in his possession, may learn the character of: the remedy pre- scribed. So, possibly, he might if he understood Latin and were a physician or a pharmacist, but as he usually pos- sesses no professional training and cannot read Latin, the prescription is practically a dead secret to him. Furthermore, the average prescription is so badly written and so greatly abbreviated that even the pharmacist, skilled as he usually is in deciphering medical hieroglyphs, is constantly obliged to interview prescribers to | find out what actually has been pre- scribed. It may also be contended, that inasmuch as the formula is known to both physician and pharmacist the prescription cannot therefore be a se- cret. But with equal truth it might be contended that the formula of any so- called nostrum is not a secret since it is known to both proprietor and manu- facturer; for it must not be forgotten | that, according to reliable authority, 95 per cent. of the proprietors of so- called patent medicines prepared in this country have their remedies made for them by large, reputable manufac- turing pharmacists. But even should a patient be able to recognize the names of the ingredients mentioned in a formula he would only know half the story. It is seldom, for instance, that alcohol is specifically mentioned in a prescription, for it is .usually masked in the form of tinctures and fluid extracts, as are a great many other substances. It is evident, there- | fore, that the ordinary formulated pre- scription is, to the average patient, lit- tle less than a secret remedy or nos- trum. On the other hand, the formulae of nearly all the proprietary medicines that are exploited exclusively to the medical profession as well as those of a large percentage of the proprie- tary remedies that are advertised to the public (the so-called patent medi- eines) are published in full. Under “That story,’ he began, ‘reminds me of another——’ “And the poor fellow went on and told the very same yarn the host had repeated only a minute before.” In the Lair of the Bard. Pretty Caller—But why is it poets eat so little? Melancholy Bard—Because, true poets use thought as food. Pretty Caller—Gracious! That is food for thought. miss, | the Food and Drugs Act, every medi- cinal preparation entering interstate commerce is now required to have the oroportion or quantity of alcohol, »pium, cocain and other habit-form- ‘mg or harmful ingredients which it may contain plainly printed on the label. As physicians’ prescriptions | seldom or never enter interstate com- merce they are practically exempt un- jer the law. And if it be necessary for the public to know the composi- true meaning of the word, a Simon- | opposi: the sale of all household remedies, why is it not equally neces- sary for patients to know the xompo sition of the remedy prescribed by a physician? Does any sane person be- lieve that the opium in a physician's prescription is less potent ar less like- ly to create a drug habit than the opi- um in a proprietary medicine? As a matter of fact, more opium-addicts and cocain-fiends have been made through the criminal carelessness of ignorant physicians than by any other ‘means. Unquestionably, there are a number of proprietary remedies on the market the sales of which should be prohibit. ed, and no doubt they will be when the requirements of the Food and Drugs Act are rigidly enforced; many are frauds, pure and simple, and some are decidedly harmful. Of the aver- age proprietary remedy, however, it may truthfully be said that it is dis- tinctly better than the average physi- cians’ prescription; for not only is its composition less secret, but it is pre- pared for the proprietor by reputable manufacturing pharmacists in magnifi- cently equipped laboratories and un- der the supervision and advice of able | chemists, competent physicians and | skillful pharmacists. It should not be | considered strange, therefore, that so | many physicians prefer to prescribe | these ready-prepared proprietary rem- edies rather than trust those of their own devising. : PICKETT’S OLD FRIEND. A Story Told of Abraham Lincoln’s Visit to Richmond. The day after the great fire follow. ing the fall of Richmond, Lincoln with a small bodyguard, walked through the streets of the charred city. As he approached the corner occupied by Gen. Pickett’s residence he direct ed the guard to wait, and to their as tonishment ran two steps at a time up to the door and rapped. The serv ants had fled. The “baby bride” had never seen President Lincoln, but she had read his letter to her husband ang from it had learned to hold in the highest esteem the great Northern President. With her baby in her arms she opened the door, says The World To-Day, and looked up at the tall gaunt man with the sad face and un couth ways. Without a word of explanation he asked: “Is George Pickett about?” To hear the husband’s name bereft of its title by a Yankee at that mo ment was almost the limit, especially as a rumor had floated ‘about Rich mond concerning the fate which await ed the leaders of the confederacy. With all the proud dignity she could command the baby bride re plied: “Gen, Pickett is not at home.” The stranger seemed disappointed and as he turned to go remarked: “Iam Abraham Lincoln, an old friend of George’s.” “Not President Lincoln!” Mrs. Pick ett exclaimed. The tall man shook his head, repeating: “No. Just Abraham Lincoln, George Pickett’s old friend.” Following the instinct promptings of the heart which still governs her the baby bride thrust her baby bos into the arms of the gaunt Yankee, as her best effort to express her venera tion and confidence, saying: “I am George Pickett’s wife and this is George Pickett’s baby.” MANIA FOR DANCING. Whole Family Had Irresistible Desire to Walk on Hands. A strange scene was witnessed the other day in the office of a Paris po lice superintendent. ‘ A woman of middle age named Mme. Brerotti entered his bureau tc lodge a complaint on the subject of her house. She could not, she said enter her apartment without an irre sistible temptation to walk on her hands. Concluding that he had to deal with a lunatic, the officer sent for the wo man’s son, whom he told to have his mother placed under care. “But she is sane,” said the young man. “What she says about walking on her hands is quite true, and I feé] it myself, as does an uncle who lives with us.” The uncle, a man of 50, was sum- moned, and he had not been talking to the officers many minutes before he declared the temptation was master- ing him. Without more ado he began careening about on his hands, mother and son followed suit, and the superin. tendent watched all three move easily about on their hands with their heels in the air. Seeing that it was a case of family Junatics, he hastily promised to. “have the house disinfected,” and drew up a report to the asylum authorities, Unfair. Miss Smith—I see that the legisla. ture has passed a law prohibiting the women from wearing stuffed birds or feathers on their hats. Aunt Maria—It ain’t fair. I’ve heard of how the men in the cities wear swallow-tail coats, and they never say a word against it. The Motor Face. A few days ago a well known per- sonage was motoring in Derbyshire when a policeman stopped him. “You'll have ta take off that mask,” said the officer, “it’s frightening every one who sees it.” “But I'm not wearing one!” explain- ed the unfortunate offender. Why He! Decline ie Wereham Long—W’y wuzn’t ye at dat banquet? tion of proprietary remedies, as is tontended by those who through ig- *orance or for mercenary reasons are Tuffold Knutt—’Cuz dey wanted me to go as a hobo, an’ I ain’t no hobo, by gum! I'm a travelin’ sociologist. } eae nanan