MRS NORTON'S MEDICINE BOTTLE.

White Ribbon, Volume 21, Issue 249, 18 March 1916, Page 5

MRS NORTON'S MEDICINE BOTTLE.

(Loretta Hanford, Chicago, 111.) There had been a slow convalescence after Mrs Norton's latest nerve collapse. Her strength and interest in life had come back reluctantly; but one bright Sabbath morning she had awakened to gaze critic all} about herInstinctively she missed the oldtime atmosphere of orderly sweetness. Somehow her room appeared strangely different. The pretty vase that was wont to hold h«*r favourite flowers was absent from the dresser, and in its place stood a flat quart-bottle. “Yes, of course,” she murmured; “the doctor ordered it.” For weeks she had lain in her darkened, nurse-guarded chamber. Only rare tip-toed visits had been allowed to her husband and her nearest friends. No one but her child Alice —her “bit of sunshine*'—had stolen in and out at will. Suddenly, as the woman's gaze again wandered to the dismantled dresser, memory roused her with the force of a blow. Her heart recoiled with dread at the thought that she must ere long again take up the burden whose weight had made her so weary of life. “Oh, God,” she pleaded, as she turned her pale, drawn face to the shadowed wall, “help me oh, help me to save him!” “Only two days more!"’ sang Alice as she tripped home from Sunday School, “then mother will come downstairs, and it will seem like living again!” But disappointment clouded the child’s face as her eyes sought the upper window, only to find it vacant. Mother had always watched 101 her of late. “Yu —hu, mother! Where are you, mother?” she called, as she ran swiftly up the stairs. A faint, “Here, daughter,” came from the inner room. “Why, mother, dear, you have been crying—you are crying now'" exclaimed the distressed child as she gave her affectionate greeting. “No, n-o, dear. Mother is quite strong to-day,” declared Mr> Norton, making a heroic effort .it control. “1 have been thinking just thinkingsome foolish thoughts—th.it is all. ’ But even as she spoke, sudden tears came. It was useless to try to con-

teal the truth that a serious trouble was preying upon her mind. “Was it father’s fault?” the child asked hesitatingly. “Was he —sick again last night? He did act so queer at the dinner table, and he was so very cross! Is that why you were crying, mother?" There was no answer. “Is that the reason? Tell me truly. 1 am not a baby any longer. lei I me, mother,” Alice persisted. Her soft arms were around her mother's neck, and the blue child-eyes were looking pleadingly into the grave, unhappy ones. Still there was no answer. “Mother dear. I ought to know what is troubling you." Now the

girlish voice was the one that trembled, and the blue eyes were misty. “Alice, my child, why .should your young heart be burdened with the lessons and the discipline that belong to mature life? They are not for you now. clear. They will come to you soon enough, (ic'd knows. Just be my own light-hearted little girl, as you always have been. That is the only thing that will make me happy." “No, mother. That kind of talk may sound very wise, but you are not to put me off in this way. You must answer my question: Was it father’s fault? Yes, or no?” “Well, then—yes, if you must know. But let us talk about something more interesting. How many were in your class to-day, and did they like their new teacher? You must ask her to come to dinner some day. I always like to know your teachers.” 1 he words had a far-away sound, and were uttered mechanically, as if thought were busy elsewhere. The sensitive heart of the child felt their effort. “Really, you must not treat me this way, mother. You must tell me all about the thing we were talking of," Alice said with a hurt in her voice, “i am father's child as well as yours. What he does and what you do concerns me just as much as it concerns you two. We are all one family.” Mrs Norton never had thought of the relationship in precisely the way that Alice put it. Perhaps she was right in her view of it. A sudden impulse came to take the child into full confidence. Alice might even prove a help. At least, the burden, shared by one who was so nearly con-

cerned, would be less heavy for her own heart, now weighed down to its greatest endurance. “Well, child,” Mrs Norton said, after a few moments of silence —“you did guess the truth. It was on account of your father that I was crying. I am going to tell you the whole story. But let u*. go into the front room. It is brighter there." As Mrs Norton leaned back in the easy-chair, Alice settled herself among the* pretty pillows in the win-dow-seat beside her. “Your father was a strong character when I married him," the mother began. “He could not tolerate in others tin* least yielding of principle. He would condemn without a hearing those who fell through weakness, especially through chink." Alice gave a start. Were the words premonitory? Was that the trouble with father? An undefined fear thrilled her.

“ ‘Judge not,’ I more than once quoted to him when he would launc h into one of his tirades against some person who, in a moment of temptation, would fall. “There is no excuse for drunkenness if a man has brain. Leave that sort of thing to imbeciles and degenerate!’ he would say. But the time came —oh, how can I tell you, dear? —the time* came when he himself needed the same mantle of charity th.it I had so often thrown over others.” “You don’t mean that father drinks " burst from Alice’s shocked lips.

“Until of late, I never would admit it even to myself,” was tin* quiet reply. “1 used to call the habit by other names. It seemed so vulgar, so coarse, so horrible to use that word in connection with my husband.” “But, mother, how did he ever get to —to that pass? I low did he begin? What made him change into the very thing he had so hated?” asked the young girl all in a breath. She* sat up, tense, alert, eagerly awaiting the answer. “You asked me how it began,” the mother answered in a strangely c onstrained voice. “1 think I shall never forget how it began. It was one bitter night in winter when your father came home benumbed with the cold, and completely worn out with his long, hard day’s work. ‘Take some of my brandy,’ I said to him. ‘lt will warm you up, and rest you, too.

I don't know what 1 ever should do when my weak spells come on if I did not have that remedy near,’ I added, as 1 saw a look of hesitation on your father’s face. ‘Take it, of course. It’s only medicine. It can’t hurt you, 1 urged. ’’ “Did he take it, mother?’’ asked Alice breathlessly. “Yes, he drank what 1 poured out for him. and in a. few moments he declared that he was warm and comfortable. Hut, Oh, my child, if I ever regretted anything in the world, l regretted that act of mine! Kvery once in a while, after that, 1 would find your father standing before the medicine cabinet with my brandy bottle in his hand, and when 1 would remonstrate with him he would say that it was only a tonic, and that he really needed it to rest his tired nerves.

“Many hot words on account of this passed between us as time went on, and finally he angrily declared that he would never touch my medicine again —and he never did.” “Oh, 1 am so glad!’’ exclaimed Alice, with a sigh of relief. “No, he never did,” the mother continued, “but the trouble was not ened; it w as only begun, for after that he to take his brandy away from home. He naturally drifted to the very companionship that he formerly had loathed and despised. Things have rapidly gone from bad to worse, until now ” “Don’t mother —Oh. don’t. You shan't cry again. It will be all right somehow ; it must be. Father used to be a good man. He will be good again; it is in him. We will help him. We will save him.” “That is easy enough for your young lips to say. How many times 1 have made vows like that! It .'Cems to me 1 have tried everything, but everything has failed.” “There are two things you have not tried, mother.” Mrs Norton looked up into the eager face, now strangely illumined. “What are they, dear child?” “You have not tried God’s power to save father. Our temperance lesson in Sunday School to-day was about that very thing. 1 can see, from what you have said, that you have been trying to save him all bv yourself ” “Dear, I believe there you arc halfway right. ’ replied the mother in

tones of conviction. “Hut tell me the other thing I have not tried.” “The other thing, mother dear” the next words came slowly, with pauses between—“you haven’t thrown away your ‘medicine bottle.’ ” There was a crash of breaking glass in the next room, followed by a hissing sound in tne grate. “Your father!” Mrs Norton sprang up in terror. “Oh, I can’t bear any more!” She covered her face with her hands as if to shut out some dreaded sight. “Yes, it is ‘your father,’ Alice,” came a steady, deep voire from the doorway—“your father, but clothed and in his right mind at last.” There was nothing to fear from the dear-eyed, erect man standing there. “You see I have tried one remedy suggested —he held out the broken bottle—“and now we all will try the other, so help us God!” From the glad, quivering lips of mother and daughter, very reverently, very joyfully, came the word “Amen !”