MATTIE LEE'S RAG CARPET.
By Mrs. Roxana C. Baker
DORA was taking care of her mother, but, as she slept peacefully, the child had sunk down across the foot of the bed, and was fast asleep herself. Stealthily, Frank Lee took the bottle of brandy from its place and returned to the kitchen, saying to himself, "I will take just a spoonful to steady my nerves." He poured a little into a glass of water, and swallowed it. But this only intensified the burning fever within. When Dora awaked an hour later and went into the kitchen, she smelled the fumes of brandy. How the poor child's heart ached as she saw the empty bottle, and her father lying in the deep stupor of intoxication! But she kept the matter to herself until grandma came. As Mattie slept a good deal during her convalescence, it did not come to her knowledge. Frank returned to his work, but he felt unutterably miserable, and nothing kept him from Hugh's tavern but the lack of funds. He had as yet too much pride to ask to be trusted for drinks. A few days later, a man who owed him, paid him five dollars, saying as he did so, "I heard your folks were sick, and I thought perhaps you needed it." Altho he knew that the money was sadly needed at home, nothing short of a miracle would have kept him from Hugh's tavern that night. Twenty-four hours later, as the twilight was falling, he had recovered sufficiently to drag himself home. His money was all gone, and he felt utterly ashamed of himself, altho he assumed a reckless air before his family. Every week or two this scene was enacted, only sometimes he stayed longer and sometimes a shorter time at the tavern, but generally as long as his money lasted. Mattie recovered strength slowly. The dark shadows seemed to be settling down deeper upon her path. She felt quite hopeless again. The chill winds of November began to blow. And the children had no shoes or warm clothes for winter. Lulu came home from a month's stay at grandma's with new shoes and a comfortable suit of clothes, but this only made the destitution at home more apparent. Dora and Kate could hardly keep their ragged shoes on their feet, while the younger ones were barefoot. Katie had taken such a cold on her lungs, from getting her feet wet, that she was threatened with pneumonia. The carpet lay in a corner of the sittingroom unmade. Mattie looked at it wistfully every time she entered the room. One day after Katie had fallen back exhausted after a severe paroxysm of coughing, Mattie threw herself down on the floor, saying brokenly, "It'll have to be done." "O mother!" said Dora, quickly divining her meaning. "I can't stand it any longer to see you children going without shoes and clothes to keep you warm. We had better never have a carpet." She laid her head across the roll of carpet and wept bitterly. Dora and the rest of the children tried to comfort her, but ended by joining their tears with hers. After a while she grew calm. Mother-love was stronger than any other feeling. "Dora," she said in a tremulous tone, "go and tell Mrs. Harvey she can have the carpet. We are not able to keep it." So the carpet was sold. It came to fifteen dollars. In her joy at being able to provide shoes and other things for the children, Mattie forgot her grief at parting with the carpet. She told Frank that evening that she wanted to go to town the next day. He told her he had no money for her, and seemed sorry when he saw how needy they were. Mattie was not a shrewd woman, and when he seemed kind, she forgot all about his faults and trusted him the same as ever. So she told him of the sale of the carpet, fearing he might scold, and was quite relieved that he did not. The next morning Frank went off very early without waiting for breakfast. Mattie had arranged to ride to town with Mrs. Harvey, and made herself ready early in the forenoon. She went to the little stand drawer and took out her pocketbook. She smiled to herself as she thought of the clothing it would buy, and the delicacies for poor sick Katie. She opened it to take another look at its treasured contents. Was it possible! The money was gone. She looked it over and over to be sure she hadn't gone crazy, and tried to think she might have put it somewhere else. But tho she looked and looked everywhere, she knew she put it there, and she felt with sinking heart where it had gone. When Mr. and Mrs. Harvey called to take her to town, and found them all in tears, the loss of the money had to be explained. "Where's Frank?" queried Mr. Harvey, suspiciously. "He went off early this morning to work," faltered Mattie. "More likely he's down at Hugh's," said Mr. Harvey, bluntly; "if Frank Lee drinks up that money, he ought to be thrashed within an inch of his life." "O Mr. Harvey," said Mattie, her love and pride aroused, "if he did, he knows what things we need, for we talked it over last night. Perhaps he thought he'd bring them himself to-night." Mr. Harvey smothered his indignation until he was out of hearing, then remarked to his wife: "Women are such simpletons. What on earth did she show it to him for?" All day long Mattie and the children hoped against hope, that pa would come home at night laden with the things they needed. But he did not come that night, nor the next, but it was generally known that he was on a spree at the tavern, and the story of the carpet soon spread. On the third day the citizens of the village held an indignation meeting, in which they denounced Frank Lee as an unmitigated scoundrel, and ended by raising twenty-five dollars, and appointing a committee to buy shoes and clothing for Mrs. Lee and the children. They also brought in supplies of food and fuel. That evening Frank Lee came stealthily in through the dark kitchen and went to bed. The sun was shining when he awoke, and he heard the rattling of dishes, and the voices of the children in the kitchen. He was thoroughly sobered now, and he recalled with a sense of shame and degradation, the scenes of the past few days. How could he meet the rebuking eyes of the wife and children he had so deeply wronged! As he sat on the edge of the bed, dreading to go out, Bertie, smiling and happy, entered the room. "Pa, breakfast is ready," he lisped. Then glancing down at his feet, "Pa, I've got some new shoes." Frank took the little fellow up on his knee. "Where did you get your new shoes?" he asked.13 "Why, they give them to me; they give us lots of things," said Bertie. "Why, the folkses. They give us lots and lots, ma and Katie and Dora and all of us. And they said we shouldn't starve if you didn't never come home." Frank quailed before the unflinching gaze of the innocent blue eyes. He permitted the child to lead him out to breakfast. No one spoke or seemed to notice him. Silently they sat down to the bountiful repast, but Frank knew it was not of his providing, and tho he tried to brave it out and eat some, the food seemed to choke him. After a few moments of vain endeavor to control himself, he shoved back his chair and groaned aloud. "O Frank, are you sick!" cried Mattie in alarm. "I can't bear it, Mattie!" he cried. "I never thought to come to this, to see my wife and children dependent on charity, and all because I've made such a brute of myself. O Mattie, you've been too good—too kind—to me! O, if it were possible for me to reform!" The haggard, despairing look on his face would have melted a harder heart than Mattie Lee's. In a moment her arms were around his neck, and her tears falling on his shoulder. Frank broke down completely, and for a few moments they wept together. Then falling on his knees, he cried brokenly: "If you'll help me, Mattie, and God will help me, I'll quit the cursed drink. Pray for me, Mattie. I feel as weak as a baby." From a full heart Mattie poured out a broken prayer for help. The balm of peace, which ever descends upon "broken, contrite hearts," rested upon them as they rose from their knees. The resolution made in the divine strength, Frank faithfully kept, tho not without some severe struggles, and several weeks' illness. "Don't give me anything with liquor in it," he entreated. "I dare not risk the consequences." When he recovered, the Christian temperance people got their arms around him, and drew him into the church. With their sympathy and encouragement, and a humble trust in his heavenly Father, he grew strong to resist temptation. Friendly hands aided him in time of trial, and little by little the family comforts increased. It is now several years since he reformed, and I rejoice to be able to say that he has become a sober Christian man, and a respectable citizen. Dora, Kate and Lulu are grown-up young ladies, Frankie is taller than his mother, and Bertie nearly as tall, and Bessie, tho still the youngest, considers herself too old to be called a baby. Mattie has gained her old cheeriness. The deft hands of the trio of girls have made the humble home tasteful and comfortable. There is a carpet on the sitting-room floor, and pretty curtains at the windows. The past is seldom referred to. They are only too glad to consign it to the oblivion of forgetfulness.