The McCook tribune. (McCook, Neb.) 1886-1936, March 23, 1894, EASTER LILIES, Image 10

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    Remington saw his friend to the
outer room and then returned to the
easel, before which lie stood for sever
al minutes In deep silence. But there
was ail added brightness in his eye,
and a warmer glow upon his cheek,
and when, a little later, lie com
menced bumming an old Italian bal
lad it was evident that the heart of
the artist was . more at ease than it
was prior to the Colonel’s visit.
Colonel Bland was a Baltimorean
who resided three parts of the year
in Europe. lie was very wealthy and
a widower without children. When
Claude went abroad to study, the Col
onel was one of the first Americans
whom he met in Paris. Their ac
quaintance ripened into a warm
friendship and the elder gentleman
took a lively interest in young Rem
ington’s successes. A lover of art,
though not himself an artist, he be
came an enthusiast in Claude’s work,
and accompanied him on many a ram
bling tour in search of the beautiful
and picturesque hits of scenery that
abound in France, Italy and Switzer
land. For a year and a half they were
constantly together and when Claude
met his fate in Constance Blythe the
Colonel was his young friend’s confid
ant and did tiis best to bring about a
match. But the pride of M rs. Blythe,
who came from an old Bostonian fam
ily, proved an insurmountable harrier
to-a union, and the Colonel was bit ter
ly disappointed himself at the failure
of his friend. He counseled Claude to
stay, in fact, and disregard Mrs.
Blythe’s orders, inasmuch as Constance
was nearly of age, hut in this case the
younger man had the most sensible
view of affairs, and wisely decided not
to remain near the girl who, he knew,
loved him as fervently as lie did her.
This difference of opinion as to wliat
lie ought to do led to some words be
tween the two friends and Claude, who
was of an impetuous nature, left Men
tone abruptly and without bidding
anyone goodbye.
And uow liis friend had followed
him across the Atlantic for the ex
press purpose of taking him back to
his lady-love and never was a messen
ger more happy in the fulfilment Of
his mission. But still the thought of
Constance's poor condition of health
worried the Colonel considerably,
though lie strove to conceal liis fears
from Claude.
On Good Friday evening the Ameri
can liner “Paris” glided slowly into
tier dock at .Southampton and two of
the first passengers to walk down tlie
gang plank were Colonel Bland and
Claude Remington. They took the
night express for London at once and
the next morning started for Paris via
Dover.
Scarcely resting in the French capi
tal long enough to take a meal; they
took train for the southeast and
towards noon on Easter Sunday were
near their journey's end. Loverlike,
Claude’s spirits rose as he gradually
approached the place where Constance
was. Everything was familiar to liiin
in Nice. The very hackmen recog
nized him and touched their hats re
spectfully. Many a pour Loire had they
received from the young artist during
his long sojourn in the fasliionable re
sort
On arrival at the Hotel Royale the
Colonel and his companion went
straight to their rooms, which had
been engaged by telegraph. Colonel
Bland then sent a messenger to Mrs.
Blythe with a note to the effect that
Remington was with him and awaited
the pleasure of an interview. A reply
was not long in coming and the bearer
of it was Sir William Jowitt the phy
sician in attendance on Constance.
The young lady, he said, was seri
ously ill, so much so that he would
have to deny Claude an interview un
til she had been prepared to undergo
the ordeal. They had extreme doubts
of her recovery—her nervous system
was completely shattered. Mrs. Blythe
was at her daughter's bedside, scarcely
ever left her, in fact, except while the
sick girl slept. As soon as Constance
fell asleep she would be pleased to see
Claude and the Colonel in the recep
tion room.
The physician was calm and polite,
but his soft gray eyes were bent, while
he was talking, upon the young artist's
face. He had heard much of him but
seen nothing, and he had been some
wliatcuriousto know the young gentle
man whose presence, liis professional
instincts told him, would be much
more potent than all the medicines he
could prescribe for Constance. But
then he had to fear the effect of any
shock, even though of a joyous nature.
Sudden happiness is frequently as fa
tal as sudden sorrow in cases where
the nerves are in a weak state. They
had not known whether the Colonel
would find Claude or not, and did not
like to even hint at his coming until
they were sure he was there.
**************
In an elegantly furnished bedroom
in another part of the hotel sat Mrs.
Blythe by the bedside of her daugh
ter. She was waiting for the girl to
wake up from the few hours’ slumber
she had taken that afternoon. The
mother was a strikingly handsome
woman of about 45, tall and graceful
in figure, and with an air of refine
ment in her features which was some
what heightened by the hauteur of her
expression. So habit ual was thisproud
look on her face that even now, while
bending over the sleeping form of her
own child, the strongly marked char
acteristic was distinctly observable.
The girl was unquestionably beauti
ful, but the ravages of a long sickness
were plainly visible in her white and
drawn face as she slept.
Mrs. Blythe had seen' the Colonel
and Claude, and a consultation, with
the physician as adviser, had resulted
in the determination to prepare Con
stance for the surprise of seeing her
lover back at her side.
The picture which had been a work
of loyal love on Claude’s part, was
moved into the invalid’s room in a
conspicuous position, with a curtain
thrown loosely over it.
The society woman’s feelings had
fought between pride of caste on one
side and love for her child on the
other, and the latter had won the
battle. Iler firm resolve now was to
endeavor to undo,as far as she could,
the evil she had done. She never
seemed to realize the enormity of her
action until she was shown the por
trait of Constance as she used to be.
The contrast between the merry,
pink-cheeked maiden of a year ago
and the pale-faced invalid lying before
her now was so great that it made her
tremble for fear her ridiculous pride
had killed her only child. A reaction
set in and now, much as she had for
merly opposed , the union, she deter
mined that it should take place, even
if it were a death-bed wedding. Her
daughter should have the wish of her
heart before she died at least.
When the sick girl at last moved
restlessly, and then opened her eyes
with that tired and weary look pecul
iar to confirmed invalids, her mother
stooped and kissed the pale forehead
affectionately.
“You have had a nice, long sleep,
dear,” she said gently, “nearly four
hours, and I think you look better for
it. Had you pleasant dreams?”
“Dreaming of Claude, as usual,
mamma,” replied the girl in a low
voice. “You niust not be angry with
me, I cannot forget him either wak
ing or sleeping. As for my looks, I
have almost forgotten how I ever
looked.”
“If you will promise me to be calm
and not get in the least excited, I will
show you how you looked not long
ago,” said Mrs. Blythe in an affection
ate tone.
Constance gazed on her wonderingly.
Mrs. Blythe met the questioning look
with a maternal smile.
“You must promise me,” she said,
as she pressed a fervent kiss upon
Constance’s lips, “otherwise I won’t
show you.”
“All right, I promise willingly,” re
plied the girl, with a puzzled expres
sion.
Mrs. Blythe moved the ornamental
easel close to the bedside and drew the
curtain away.
An involuntary start, an exclama
tion of glad surprise, a slight flusli of
color in the cheek and then the inva
lid's face became fixed upon the pic
ture. There was a few minutes of
complete silence, which Constance
broke by saying:
“Mamma, Claude painted that.”
“How do you know, dear?”
“I know he did—he musthavedone;
nobody else in the wide world could
have done! Did he send it to you,
mamma, tell me, did he?”
“Kemember your promise, dear
child, or I shall give you no informa
tion at all,” answered the mother with
a playful laugh. “Now, just keep per
fectly quiet, and I’ll tell you a little
secret. I have sent for Mr. Reming
ton to come back.”
“Sent for him, mamma? How could
you be guilty of such an indiscretion?”
“No indiscretion about it, my dear
child. I sent him away from you and
it was my place to recall him.” Mrs.
Blythe put her arm around her daugh
ter's neck and kissed her. As she did
so Constance felt the warm tears drop
on her cheek and saw that her mother
was crying.
ISIl JVU LU/Clly oWUtl. K111U lilclliliua,
how good of you to do that when you
don't like Claude.”
“I do like Claude, and I admit that
I have made a foolish error. 1 thought
pride was stronger than love, but I
find that I am mistaken.”
“When did you send for him? It is
a long way to New York.” Constance
spoke eagerly,—questioningly.
“He is on his way here now, darling,
and I want you to try and get strong
again before becomes, won't you?”
“I am strong, mamma, quite strong,
and your blessed words give me extra
strength. I already feel much better.”
“Would you feel well enough to see
Claude if he should arrive tonight,
dear?—remember, the doctor cautions
you against the least excitement, and
he would not let you see him. unless
you promised to be calm.”
“But I am calm, mamma. It would
not injure me. I feel it would give
me strength if I could see Claude
again.”
“Then, Constance, prepare to have
your wish gratified at once,” said Mrs.
Blythe softly, as her finger pressed
the electric bell.
There came an old time sparkle in
the eyes of the sick girl as she heard
her mother's words, the cheeks flushed
again, her bosom heaved perceptibly.
Mrs. Blythe whispered a few words to
the servant who answered the bell.
Then she returned to her daughter’s
bedside and took the invalid’s hand.
“Constance,” she said, in a some
what broken voice, “I must ask your
forgiveness for the shortsighted cruel
ty 1 was guilty of when I sent your
lover away. I have done what I could
to repair the foolish act and have
brought Claude back again to your
side. May God grant that he is not
too late.”
A slight tap at the door and Sir Wil
liam Jowitt entered quietly. A shade
of disappointment passed over the
face of Constance.
The physician walked forward and
felt the pulse of the invalid.
“Your mother has told you who is
here, I presume,” he said seriously.
“Now tell me, Miss Blythe, do you
think you are able to bear an inter
view?”
“Oil yes. Don’t you see how calm I
am, doctor? Why, I feel quite strong
again, and could almost cry for joy.”
“Yes, but you must not cry,” said
the doctor warningly. Then, as he
took his leave, he said to himself,
chuckling, “Just as 1 thought! medi
cines in her case would not be worth
a—a—continental, as the Americans
say.”
As Claude entered the room and al
most rushed to the bedside, Mrs.
Blythe crossed to the window and
looked out. The tears were falling
from her face, but they were tears of
joy, not sorrow. When she walked
back to the lovers she took a hand of
each and joined them, saying to Con
stance, “Today is the anniversary of
our Saviour’s resurrection. Let us
hope that it may also be the day of
your rising from sickness. It certain
ly is a fitting occasion, for to-day my
own love lias risen far beyond my for
mer pride.”
Well Dull.
It may sound paradoxical
To creditors of mettle,
But debtors have to be “stirred up”.
Sometimes before they’ll “settle.”
Should Braw Well.
O’Mac.—The finest thing I saw in
London was a perforated cigar.
Mac’O—Holey smokes!
An Easy Tank.
Bob.—I think Chauncey Depew is
even cleverer than Herrmann.
Tom.—For what reason?
“I have seen him transport people
from New York to Buffalo simply by
making a few passes.”
A Healthy Han.
Jawson.—Do you know Tompkins
well?
Dawson.—Yes, never knew him
unwell in my life.
An Involuntary Thief.
A public park, a garden seat, an actor sat
thereon,
Ills gay attire part product of the season
lately gone,
For fifteen minutes there he rests, then rises
to his feet.
And with a calm and studious face he seeks
the crowded street.
But after him a horde of boys precipitately
ran,
And shouted out “Stop thief! stop thief!
there goes the guilty man!”
The actor wonderingly turned, as up the po
lice came,
And without hesitation gave his right ad
dress and name.
Among the boys a tall, slim youth appeared
to be the chief,
And he reiterated loud, “This fellow is a
thief!”
“’Tis false!” the actor hotly cried. “This
charge is base indeed.
In all my life I never yet committed thievish
deed!
"I saw him steal,” the urchin said, in making
the complaint.
“Way over in the hollow there I watched him
take some paint.”
“You lie!” the actor wildly hissed, beside
himself with rage.
“This is the greatest insult ever offered to
the stage!”
“Here is the proof,” the boy remarked, “be
fore we let him budge,
You’ve heard the charge 1 made, and now let
each one be the judge.
You can detect his guilt at once—he gives us
all the chance.
Observe the paint that’s sticking there on the
seat of his light pants!”
GEORGE EDGAR.
The Collector.
lie subject of this
sketch is not the
nuin who comes
around on or about
the first of every
month wearing a
check suit and a
bright smile that
seems to fade per
ceptibly when you tell him to “call
again iu a week,” or “let it lay over'
till next month.” It is not the rent
or tax collector I have in view, but
that worst of all cranks, a collector of
old stamps, coins, bric-a-brac and
other relics of antiquity.
Perhaps you know one or more of
them; perhaps you have met the man
to whom a battered old copper penny
of George tlie First’s reign is a mine
of wealth compared to a brand new
ten dollar bill; maybe you know tlie
fellow who cherishes a cancelled post
age stamp from the Phillipine Islands
like an old maid does her yellow pug
dog, or a young mother lier first in
fant. And possibly you are also ac
quainted with tlie long haired and
mildewed enthusiast who visits auc
tion sales of second-hand rubbish and
bids fabulous prices for featureless
and limbless statuary; who fondles
with affectionate reverence a wig that
was supposed to belong to Cromwell’s
first cousin, or worships tlie alleged
toenail of some departed saint who
died of La Grippe in the tail end of
the third century.
These men are frequently walking
museums. They carry pocket books
containing several hundred obsolete
stamps from all parts of the world,
for which no sane man would know
ingly give up a nickel. They would
sooner lose an entire year’s cash
receipts than part with their collec
tion. They have also some antiquat
ed coin or other which cost them $50,
hut which would not he accepted any
where as collateral for a hair cut or a
howl of pea soup. Then, if the crank
is of a pious turn of mind, or rather,
of a superstitious nature, lie is pretty
sure to have surrounded himself with
“relics,” such as gruesome looking
bones, pieces of skin or fragments of
“the true cross.” There wasn’t wood
enough grown in the entire Holy Land
to supply tlie pieces of the true cross
that have found their way, in recent
years, all over the world, "and if the
alleged toenails of saints are all au
thentic those sanctified people must
have been veritable centipedes. It is
said that a Minneapolis gentleman
started in the lumber business solely
for the purpose of supplying splinters
from the true cross and lie is reported
to be worth a fortune at the present
day.
uuuct/iuif; vajiuo i» a vexy acnsiuic
and laudable occupation, provided
current specie is adhered to, and I re
spectfully submit that there is more
solid satisfaction to be gleaned from
the possession of a double eagle than
from owning a pot-full of mouldyEuro
pcan coppers that wouldn't buy a
mint julep or a pack of cigarettes in
any city in the United States. At the
same time it is just as well that
cranks who are fond of the antiquated
money exist, as it gives us poor mor
tals a chance to enjoy the current coin
of the realm without exciting the en
vy of these collectors.
The love of antiquity observable in
these collectors seems to come to a
sudden stop when they select a wife
or sweetheart. A statue a thousand
years old they would venerate, hut a
woman over thirty-five they would
hardly respect for sweetliearting pur
poses.
The age of an engraving or oil paint
ing, if measured by centuries, would
thr<>w one of these cranks into rapture,
but he has a strange prejudice in fa
vor of youth when it comes to select
ing a life partner.
Well, we don't blame him, as we
happen to be similarly afflicted our
selves, but we cannot help thinking
that much of his affection for ancient
coins, obsolete stamps and prehistoric
! relics is sadly misplaced. We cannot
j see how the hoarding of these reminis
i cences of by-gone ages, at great cost
of money and time, can afford one
tentli of the pleasure that is to be
found in the jingle of a few U. S. gold
pieces or the rustle of some crisp
American currency. J. S. G.
Not a Bit Scared.
Jnst jl frail and timid creature.
Pinched of face and pale of feature,
And seemingly the weakest of her sex.
Five feet high perhaps -no taller,
Not. a woma n t here is smaller,
But of danger in the crowd she little recks.
Nerves are weak, and brains are swimming
In that surging throng of women.
And t he spirits of the strong are giving way.
Yet that slim and fragile figure
Elbows past a crowd much bigger
To the counter on this “Special bargain
day!”
Laura’s Little Brother.
I have a young lady cousin whose
company is much sought after by
members of my own sex. I was a man
after her own heart once, but 1 didn’t
get it. She discouraged me so mucli
that I couldn’t take heart at all. Sev
eral of my club acquaintances have
been paying court to her since, but no
one has yet succeeded in carrying off
the prize.
From certain rumors that I hear I
believe her little brother Eddie is
one of the main causes of her fail
ure to catch a suitable husband. 11 is
sufficient to say tiiat Eddie is a small
boy and lias a tongue. Also a facility
for putting peculiar and unfortunate
constructions on whatever lie may
hear or see.
When Mr. Golightly called the other
evening and was shown into the par
lor, Eddie sauntered shyly in before
tiie visitor had time to seat himself in
an imposing attitude. lie looked
wistfully at the caller for some mo
ments and then said gravely, “Aint
you goin to make it talk?” “Make
what talk, my little man?” asked Mr.
Golightly in friendly tones.
“Your suit, aint it going to shout?”
“I don’t understand you, my dear,”
replied Mr. Golightly.
“Well now,” said Eddie, scratching
his head, and looking the unfortunate
young man all over, “when the ser
vant told Laura that you had called
she said, “Oh he needn’t call, his
spring suit is loud enough to be heard
all over the block!”
Mr. Bondstock, the bank cashier,
does not call on Miss Laura since his
last painful interview with Eddie in
the presence of the latter’s fattier.
“Say, mister,” asked the boy play
fully. “Isn’t our Laura stuck on you?”
“I’m sure I—I d-don’t know,’’stam
mered the embarrassed gentleman.
“Oh rats!” replied Eddie, disre
spectfully, “why, I saw her stuck on
you last night—she was on your knee
for over live minutes!”
Worse, if anything, was the experi
ence of Mr. Smartwit, whose second
and last visit to Eddie’s home was
made memorable by that mischievous
youngster. lie broke in upon Laura
and lier companion—just, as Mr.
Smartwit was about to propose—with
this probably true, but certainly mal
apropos sentence—
“Say, sis, ma wants to know how
long that booby is going to keep you
from supper!”_ Jilks.
THE PROBABLE
Last Words of Living Celebrities.
Grover Cleveland: “I shall at least be
free from the veto of the senate.”
James J. Corbett: “I never t hought
death could knock me out so easily.”
Wm. L. Wilson: “Whither am I
drifting?”
Adelina Patti: “This is my last fare
well.”
John Y. McKane: “Good bye to Coney
Island.”
Cliauncey M. Dcpew: “Icannotspeak
this evening—some other time.”
Senator Hill of New York: “I never
bore any ill will to Grover.”
William McKinley: “This Bill will
go through all right.”
Hold. G. Ingersol: “I wonder if I was
wrong?”
Bussell Sage: “I cannot take any
stock in the next world.”
Ward McAllister: “James, see that
my dress pants are properly pressed.”
Walter Q. Gresham: “How far is it
to Hawaii?”
John Wanamaker: “Anything else
today please?”
Thomas P. Ochiltree: “I never took
water yet and I will not do it now.”
Tom Watson of Georgia: “Where am
I at?”
Lillian Bussell: “What! are there
no marriages in heaven!”
George Slosson: “Now for the long
rest. ”
The Prince of Wales: “I am about
tired waiting for a throne.”
Joseph Pulitzer: “The ‘World’ is
mine. ”
Queen IAUuokalmri: “IIow long am I
to be kept out?” sam. clank.
Banker—I understand you have
discovered a mi ne of wealth.
Broker—Yes, but it isn’t wealth
of mine—it’s another fellow’s.
RIGHT SAYINGS
of
Little Children.
“I don’t like to go shopping in dry
goods stores with my mamma,” said a
five-year-old boy. “Why not?” he was
asked. “Oh, because she asks the
salesmen to show her so many things
she doesn't want,” he promptly re
plied.
Said Johnnie Kingston’s mother. “I
want to buy one of those new kitchen
ranges. They toll me they save half
the coal.” And her young hopeful,
after considering a minute, asked,
“Why don't you buy two of 'em, ma,
and save it all?”
“Now Bobby,” said the school
teacher one day, “if it took ten men
fifteen hours to hoe a large cornfield,
how long would it take two men, say
your father and uncle, to do the same
work?”
“They'd never do it,” replied Bob
by promptly, “they'd be swapping
fish stories all the time!”
That was a bright child who, on be
ing asked what ice was, quickly re
plied, “Water, gone to sleep.” And
the grocer's little girl's definition of
sand, “something papa mixes with
sugar." was as ingenuous as it was un
expected.
“Shall I have to get married when I
grow up?” asked little Flossie of her
mother one day.
“Justas you please, my dear,” an
swered her mother. "Most women do
marry, however.”
“Yes, I suppose so,” continued the
little girl musingly, “and 1 guess I'd
better start right in and hustle for a
husband now. They tell me Aunt
Jane has been at it for 20 years and
hasn't found one yet!” n. o'd.
PvlOCK spring Diaae l TI.Conly Pertectuomo. 1 se<l l.y U.
^ _ r g. , I S. Arniy.aud Harnum & Hailey and
-soft as a Brush- I Korepauph Circuses. Sample mailed
_ k i«wtpaid 25c. Kxcellence guaranteed.
Fits Every Curve..! spring curry cpiiBco.,
- * -' 5 La Fayette St., South Bend, Ind.
HOW WE TOR AND ACT.
It is a common thing to hoar people
talk about what they think, of the
subject s they understand, and how they
reasoned this way a.id that way, in
certain matters. But it is a question
if one in a thousand people lias ever
stopped to consider how they think,
and by what occult processes in the
brain the reasoning faculty, or intelli
gence, performs its duties? Never
theless it is probably the most inter
esting study of any that pertains to
human anatomy. The material mo
tions of the body are understood, to a
limited extent, but the actions of the
mind are rarely, if ever, thought of,
even by professional phrenologists.
Of ail the machines the world has
overseen, the most elaborate, compli
cated and intricate could not compare
with the machinery of the human sys
tem.
express its wish to have that motion
made than the desire is telegraphed to
the particular organ and the motion is
apparently spontaneous with the com
mand. It is the same with any other
organ or muscle. The will power in
the brain no sooner issues its request
for motion than the behest is obeyed.
Hap id as lightning is, quick as are
the Hashes of electricity, neither can
beat the nerves In the prompt trans
mission of thought or feeling.
The actual seat of life, the point
from which t he vitality of our whole
system emanates, is situated in the
upper part of tile spinal cord, at the
base of the brain. (See Fig.) It will
be seen also that from that point be
gins the spinal cord, which runs down.*
ward through the l>ody and is, proper
ly speaking, the main or “grand t runk”
line of the whole nervous system.
From it diverge the different nerves
that supply the heart, stomach, liver,
kidneys, bowels, etc., with their vital
I
' m
■ ERVE CENTERS)
OF THE
HEART
LUNGS
\\1\\ i STOMACH
\4l
bowels
It will well repay the reader to
study in connection with this article
the accompanying semi-plirenological
chart, in which he will notice that
the human head is carefully mapped
out, with the various senses and or
gans properly indicated in their re
spective locations. It will be seen at
a glance that every part of the body is
directly controlled by the brain. The
limbs and various organs are governed
by it. Every motion of every muscle
emanates from headquarters in the
brain. The seat of intellect, that is,
the understanding or thinking and
reasoning part of man, is located
across the front part of the brain.
The other senses, such as sight, hear
ing, taste, touch and smell, occupy
positions in the rear of the intellect,
as do also the mainsprings of motion.
In the gray or outer matter of the
brain, where these various locations
are marked in the cut, are situated the
nerve centers and all these are in di
rect communication and sympathy
with each other. They are in har
monious accord and assist one another
in the performance of tlicir respective
functions.
For instance, when in conversation
with a person, it is not merely the
tongue or organ of speech that is em
ployed. The intellect or understand
ing is engaged, the sense of hearing is
concentrated upon what your com
panion may be saying, the eyes are
usually fixed upon him, and his on
you, you move your arms, hands or
facial muscles by way of gesture or
expression, and all these acts are done
[forces. These nerves are in the form
of delicate white strings or filaments,
and are to the organs of tiie body ex
actly what telegraph lines are between
different cities—a means of prompt,
communication.
No matter what muscle or organ of
tiie body becomes in anyway affected
the news is promptly transmitted
through the nerve centers to tiie brain
mid other organs arc liable to be af
fected through sympathy.
This is well exemplified and perhaps
more lucidly explained in the. cut
showing tiie relation of the eye to tiie
sense of hearing and the organ of
speech on another part of this
page. It must be generally conceded
that the clearer one understands liis
mechanism the better will lie or sin
be able to know what is the matter
with them when they are sick. As it
is, people often have symptoms of seri
ous diseases, which i hey treat lightly,
if at all, because they do not compre
hend fully tiie importance of these
disease indications, and, as they do not
realize the danger, they neglect the
trouble until it is often too late. With
a better knowledge of their own con
struction and susceptibility to diseases
they would take far more precautions
in the early stage of their trouble and
thus prevent its dangerous increase.
Physiological experts, we know, have
been for many years experimenting
upon the heads of the lower animals,
such as dogs, monkeys, etc., to ascer
tain the various functions of the
brain. They have also examined tiie
brains of people after death in order
at one and the same time, though
prompted by different senses under
one government.
First of all, external impressions
are telegraphed, as it were, through
the mediums of the ear or eye to 1 he
seat of intellect, and orders are imme
diately dispatched from there, by
means of the nerve centers, to every
organ whose co-operation is required.
For example, as you read these lines,
just move the toes of your, right or
left foot The movement you find will
be simultaneous with your thinkimj
about it. Ho sooner does the brain
to determine the reason of various
paralytic and other symptoms that oc
curred before death. Tims it lias been
ascertained that different portions of
i he brain control different parts of
the body as indicated in the cut.
These remarks may convey a popu
lar idea of liow extremely difficult it
is to successfully treat nervous dis
eases unless one is thoroughly well
grounded in the construction of the
nervous system, and lias had a practi
cal experience in the causes of disease
and also their cure.
Franklin Miles, M. D., LL. B.
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