Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1895-05-02
Common Sense Cure.

Cousin Mary had been IN invalid for
several years, and all the female rela-
tives shook their heads deSpondingly
whenever this subject was mentioned.
There was very little hope she
would ever be any better, they said
dolorously. "She had had all the
doctors far and near, and none of them
did her any good. Poor woman! she
probably couldn't hold out much
longer"
l had heard the same story over and
over, but, having had some eXperince
in chronic disease, l was not disposed
to blieve the case as hopeless as it was
represented.
knew that at the first there had
been severe everlasting of strength
in the care of Il dearly loved brother.
who had died after long illness, and
Mary had been very sick of fever after
his death. Long months of nervous
prosratiOn followed the fever, then
intervals of cOnvalescence and relapses
had succeeded each other until. at last
she had become confirmed invalid,
a patient, resigned member of the
'ShUt-in Society,""
As for myself, was never a good
subject for the last. | had told my
pastor once, when he called upon me
during a prolonged, apparently hope
less illness, that / did not believe in
resignation to sickness; and in answer
to his shocked expression, added, res
ignaton to anything that can be helped
is simply laziness; and instead of join
ING the 'Shut-in Society," l belong to
the Get Up and Get Out Society. "
Possibly that had something to do
with the fact that l recovered after the
physicians had declared my case hope.
less.
With this experience fresh in my
memory, l decided to visit my suffering
relative. and see if there was not some
possibility of help for her.
I'm afraid you can't see Martha
tonight" Aunt Mary said soon after
my arrival, ''she is so nervous no one
has been in the room for the last month
except doctor and |. She can't bear
bit of light or the least noise, her head
is so bad" And poor, patient Aunt
Martha heaved deep sigh; the invalid
daughter was very dear to her, and she
was nearly exhausted by care and anx-
iety on her account
Then do not tell her am here" l
said. Il know just how she feels, and
am going to take the responsibility of
walking in without asking consent"
Aunt Martha demurred, but as is
usually the case, my strong will over
came her weak one, and l opened soft
ly the door of the sick room and en-
tered unannounced.
The blinds were closed, and thick
curtains were over the windows. In
the dim light could at first see only
the outlines of white draped bed in
the center of the room. As l drew
nearer and my eyes became more &C
CuStomed to the darkness, | saw a
pale, thin face upon the pillow, and a
pair of dark eyes, unusually large and
bright, were looking at me in surprise
and bewilderment.
of Introduction, as / saw she did not
recognise me. Il have come from New
York on purpose to see YOU"
She answered me in a voice scarcely
above whisper, letting the wasted,
nerVeless hand l had taken fall YEARLY
back upon the coverlid She looked so
trail and delicate my heart was filled
with the deepest pity for her, while
felt indignant at the ignorance that
could shut up sick person in such q
close, dark room.
| made few kind inquiries regard
ing her condition; it was the old story
OF chronic diseases-almOst constant
pain IN back or sides, torturing ner-
rous headaches, sleeplessness ard loss
OF appetite.
You have been very sick" she said
in the low, languid tone she seemed
to use habituallr, land they tell me
Your recovery was almost q miracle.
Was it faith cure?n
mo, at least not what is CALLED so
bv its advocates. The popular idea of
faith cure, as | understand it, seems to
me little better than an insult to the
Almighty"
'On, cousin JeHiiIe' with an accent
of horror, us if had committed the I'M
pardOnablc sin. She was greatly
shocked, just as intended she should
lie; it was useless thinking Of cure for
her while she remained IN that half,
dead condition. both physically and
mentally. A shock of some kind was
necessary 10 rouse her, and as / dared
not dash pail OF cold water over her