MAT.

Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 68

MAT.

Br Ink Blot.< The ploughmen were reclining under the ;rees after their midday meal, enjoying a ew moments' repose ere returning to work. fhey were rough, uncouth men, with untempt hair, tanned faces, and shirt sleeves rolled to theii tffoows, exposing broad, sunpurnt arms upon which a pale townsman .Would look witb envy and admiration. As they sat there, talking and jesting, the door of the homestead, which was some SO yards away, slowly opened, and a little fair figure came out," carefully carrying an inkstand and a diminutive book. -, She came cautiously down the path and across the green to where the men were resting. Arriving within a few yards of jthem, without once raising her eyes from (her burden, she said in a little, high .voice : < "Mat, I want you to put your name in nay - Birthday. JBook. Look, it's all mine. Mother gave IE to me yesterday ; and if ""I'm ' a -good girl I'm going'* to Annie's to- > morrow, and Annie's going- to put her name "an, jtoo." .-/ ,' ,• •, • " -\A.j boisterous burst of; laughter greeted 'pfchis simple „-speech ; but Mat-^r-a veritable -Son of Anak, sitting -with .his back against .a. treer-'-reaohed-' out' his strong arms 'and. took. the inkstand in one' hand .and lifted the '•{little -maid on to. his. knee, with the other. $>he, showed not the -slightest sign of shyness or fear, "for- Joan had great affection £or,-Mat, and Mat loved her as though she '.were' his ,child: He looked down at the plear, blue eyes looking up at his, and said in a gruff but -kindly voice: I ".Put.m y name in your birthday book?" .Then, after? a short pause. "I'm no extra (hand^t writing, but anything, I s'pose, '11 tio.W . - ■ Setting the inkstand on his unoccupied knee, he placed the book 'before him and /began absent-mindedly to turn over the jSeaves. ~ He was trying to remember his /birthday ; he had forgotten it, and the .itask was a difficult one — far more difficult khan. guiding the plough. Suddenly he re--collected that in his boyhood— for even Mat bad once been a boy — his mother used to Bay that his birthday present would do for Christmas, too ; whereupon he used to envy the little boys whose birthdays and Christmas were farther apart. As ..this sudden remembrance came upon ihim. he unconsciously moved his leg, causing the inkstand to overbalance and fall. He &ried.,with the, hand in which, he .-held *he^birthday book to save it; but,, alas! ~ttie : ink' 'came, running, oat, over Mat's fingers and all' over the open book. "As the Irnksfemd fell, Mat had moved his other- leg, \anil; Joan also tumbled to the ground. . She «oon picked herself up, however, laughing . and thinking Mat was having, a jgune with her., But_.as soon, as she saw ithelilotted pages of the book her countenance'fell, hei little" lips trembled, she. put ber hands' to her face and began to cry. i Mat's attempts at comforting were of no iKvail, bo he picked her up and carried her /to the house, where, with rough-spoken expressions of sorrow, he delivered to his mispress his weeping burden, the inkstand, and )the damaged birthday book. Ibis done, he returned tp the men, who thereupon rose and set out for the fields. There they continued ploughing until 5 o'clock, when Mat {{who had been rather quiet during the afternoon) saddled Peggy and said he was going to town, some seven miles away. The river. which had to be forded, was swollen /with snow-water from the mountain, but GPeggy was staunch and true, and after a telow, somewhat perilous passage she safely xeached the other side. Arrived at .the ltown, "Mat completed his business and set cut, foi .home. It was now dusk, the moon .■was just rising over the hills and the stars ..were coming out. As Peggy cantered easily along her master's spirits revived, and every now and again he would whistle a little tame. The road was unmetalled ; it was 'one, of those country roads which, though . laid- off and with fences on either side, have, by reason of little use, degenerated intc nothing more than narrow tracks. l As Itf at, passed along, the dull beating of •Peggy's hoofs startled the sheep grazing in i .he paddocks,- and one could see indistinct "gre j forms scampering into ihe dark. Two. ..•woojdhens were- calling to each >ther from . opposite sides of the road. A- mopok© screeched and, flew past silently into the night. Why did. he, give that screech? It ■was i. long, drawn cry, like a cry of warning, and seemed to say the one word, "S — t — o — p." Again from the far distance i-jame the cry, " S — t — o — p." But Mat heeded not. He rode on, whistling cheerfully, until he came !;o the ford. The dark waters were rushing swiftly down, •Dushing and jostling each other ir their ihurry to reach the sea. As Peggy took the stream, they seemed to leap and call around her, as though rejoicing at the prospect of prey. But Peggy was steady and. sure, she knew her dangei, and at every step she stopped to feel the way. She was in the middle of the stream now, and the waters, as though afraid that their victim would 'tscapa, were swirling round the brave little mare and beating- .against her sides. Suddenly a stone rolled from under her feet. All was over in a moment — horse and rider .were swept swiftly down the stream. At first one could see two struggling forms, borne along with the current; but they wer son lost in the gloom. Ever •nd anon, however, a convulsive splash sounded faintly down the stream ; then all -was quiet, save only the rushing of the ■waters and the low moaning of the wind. They found him in a little eddy two miles below the ford. Silent and sadly they placed 'him on the bank and set about making a bier. . There he lay, unconscious of all around him. so calm and stiU that one could not - realise that those giant limbs, that huge body, had once been al've and moved. Yet there was a time when those limbs and body had been strength itself, and done the work of two strong men ; but now their power was &oiie and their work, wa* done.*

That iiuge chest, that once had heaved so deeply, was quiet now and at rest. Those closed eyee, that solemn face — never again would they be lit up with a smile as in days gone by. There lay Mat — stronglimbed, genial, gentle-hearted Mat — and his great spirit bad flown forever. As they lifted him on to the bier a little packet slipped from his coat pocket and fell to the ground. They picked it up and opened it. Inside, wet and soiled with the muddy waters of the stream, was a little-gilt-edged birthday book.