Posted: August 3, 2013 in Historic Interest
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Our representative called the other afternoon upon Mrs. Durrant, of 79, Camp Hill, Birmingham, with reference to a strangely wonderful case in which her son had been the prominent figure. Our representative was received with great politeness by the mistress of the house, a pleasant motherly- looking lady. On mentioning the nature of our business we were immediately shown into a cosy, comfortably-furnished parlour, where we remained for nearly two hours, listening with engrossed interest to the marvellous story of how Thomas Durrant was literally Brought Back from the Grave. “My son, Thomas Stephen Durrant,” began the good lady, 11 will be nineteen years old on the 4th of March. Although never a sturdy, robust lad, he still up to the middle of last year had been in the enjoyment of fairly good health. By profession he is a clerk, having for between five and six years been in the employment of Messrs. E. R. Pearce and Co., 104, Great Charles Street, Birmingham. Owing to the death of the head of the firm last year, he had to seek out another situation, being next engaged as junior clerk at Messrs. Grainger Smith and Walter’s, of Birmingham. It was when lie had been at this situation for about three weeks that the symptoms of the ailment first showed themselves from which he has since been so great a sufferer.” Mrs. Durrant here paused for a minute or so before re-commencing her narrative. I am afraid,” she at last began, in a voice tremulous with emotion, that the majority of people who-read this marvellous story concerning my son will entertain great doubts as to the genuineness of the case I am about to lay before you. I can very well understand them doing so, for at times even I hardly seem able to realise that my dear boy, after passing through so much suffering, has really been safely brought back from the Valley of the Shadow of Death. How- ever, in order to give the curious or unbelieving a full opportunity of testing the accuracy of my statement, I give dates and addresses, and when- ever practicable, names, too. You will understand that in some cases I could not give names without causing great annoyance and offence to worthy gentlemen whose feelings I would not willingly hurt. Otherwise I have nothing I daeire to conceal; indeed, shall ouly be too glad to give all the publicity I can to the case, if but to show my gratitude for the wonderful manner in which my son was rescued from death. It was in the early part of June last that Tom first began to feel unwell. He became aware of a swelling in the ankles and round the eyes, while a few days after this he was also afflicted with a glandular swelling. Without being in any actual pain, he soon became affected with an unusual sensation of langour and heaviness. For a week or so he remained at his employment, but as his legs continued to swell he was at last compelled to desist from his occupation. On Saturday, June 23, he went home and took to his bed, where lie remained until Tuesday morning. On that day he went to the Queen’s Hospital with a view of becoming an out-patient. The surgeon, after having examined him, immediately recommended that lie should at once go into the institution. My son assenting, he remained at the hospital for ten weeks and two days. During that period he underwent several operations, and, apparently, all possible was done for him. Despite the fact that his legs were punctured and he went through a regular course of medicine, he kept getting worse, swelling so much that he could not leave his bed. At length,” here the mother’s voice became broken as she re-called the mental agony and anxiety of the past few months, one day on going to the hospital I was informed that my poor lad had better be transferred to the General Hospital; and from there to the Jaffray Suburban. After making inquiries as to the reasons for this stop; the doctor said that they had done all that was in their power to save him, and that they could see very little chance of his recovery. He told me that Tom was filling rapidly and might die at any minute; that he had Blight’s Disease in its worst form, and that little else than a miracle could save his life. Even while he had been lying in the hospital under their treatment I had often thought I should like to try a remedy of which I had read in Saturday Night, a journal ever welcome in our happy home. While I thought my son was progressing favourably I restrained my desire to do this for who was I that I should presume to dictate to properly-qualified practitioners as to what medical course should or should not be adopted. When, however”, they practically admitted their inability to cure poor Tom, I determined no longer to resist my convictions, but made up my mind to give that far-famed medicine a trial of which I had read so much in the pages of Birmingham’s popular weekend paper. “Immediately on Tom’s arrival home, he commenced taking Warner’s Safe’ Cure, and obeying their dietic instructions, which I found to my surprise were totally at variance with the hospital directions. Notwithstanding this, however, I persisted in the course laid down by Warner’s. There was no appreciable difference observable in the lad during the first week, but on Saturday, September 21, he was seized with convulsions, which, on passing off, left him entirely blind. At about four o’clock on the same day he had another attack, which entirely took away his speech. A doctor whom I called in informed me that my son could not possibly last the night through. He was altogether unconscious for three days, after which I again commenced giving him Warner’s ‘Safe’ Cure. By the end of the week lie had partially regained both sight and memory. I still kept the doctor in attendance upon my son, as I feared in case of his death some trouble might arise. Notwithstanding this, I am m a position to most solemnly aver that from the time that Tom left the hospital, on September 5, up to the present day he has taken no medicine whatever except Warner’s Safe Cure. On Saturday, October 5, at mid-day, lie had another convulsion, which left him completely paralysed all down his left side. From this period,” continued the good lady, my son commenced mending. The water began to disperse from the abdomen first, then from the legs, and lastly from the paralysed parts. As the weeks went by he continued to improve, until, on Christmas Day, by the aid of a stick, he was actually able to crawl downstairs and eat his Christmas dinner with the rest of the family. Meanwhile, the paralysis had also been gradually leaving him, until now, at the present time, it has entirely gone. But come in and see for yourself,” said Mr. Durrant, and we followed her into an adjoining where, reclining in an arm-chair by the brightly glowing fire, was young Thomas Durrant. He rose as our representative entered the room, and, stepping forward a couple of paces, offered us a thin white hand by way of welcome. He had the pale, worn look of one who had been to the very threshold of the Shadow Portals, but a smile lighted his face, and his quiet voice had a cheerful ring as he thanked us for coming. Speaking of his marvellous recovery, he joined with his mother in expressing to us his sense of the great debt of gratitude he owed to his deliverers from death. His last word as we passed from the room will never fade from our memory; I was given up by the doctors six months ago us incurable and dying. When they could stretch out no helping hand I found a benefactor greater than them all. I turned from them in despair, only to be snatched from the very brink of the grave by Warner’s Safe’ Cure. In publishing the above interview, Mr. J. C. Hawkes, the editor of Saturday night, says in another column will be found a full account of how Thomas Durrant was brought back from the Grave.’ The story is told in vivid language, and for the benefit of similar sufferers I think it only just and fitting that I should here remark that, of my own personal knowledge, I can vouch for the truth of every word in the narrative of this most marvellous cure. The lad is well known to all the members of the staff of this paper, and his recovery has been watched by us with the very keenest interest.
I had to share this news paper article, but I do smell a rat here. Either the Durrant’s are on some kind of commission; or they own this particluar miracle cure.
So the next time you have a nearly dead relative give them “ Warner’s Safe Cure.


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