And leered above his shoulder

     Like the deadliest of foes,—

     With fleshless arms and fingers,

     And a skull, with glistening rows

     Of teeth that crunched and gritted,—

     "It's my tailor, I suppose!"

     They found him in the morning—

     So the mystic legend goes—

     With the placid face still smiling

     In its statuesque repose;—

     With a lily in his left hand,

     And in his right a rose,

     With their fragrance curling upward

     Through a nimbus 'round his nose.

   Facial Neuralgia is what is keeping Jay Gould back this summer and preventing him from making as much money as he would otherwise. With good health and his present methods of doing business Mr. Gould could in a few years be beyond the reach of want, but he is up so much nights with his face that he has to keep one gas-jet burning all the time. Besides he has cabled once to Dr. Brown-Sequard for a neuralgia pill that he thought would relieve the intense pain, and found after he had paid for the cablegram that every druggist in New York kept the Brown-Sequard pill in stock. But when a man is ill he does not care for expense, especially when he controls an Atlantic cable or two.

   This neuralgia pill is about the size of a two-year-old colt and pure white. I have been compelled to take several of them myself while suffering from facial neuralgia; for neuralgia does not spare the good, the

   true or the beautiful. She comes along and nips the poor 

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