THE DOOR MAT’S STORY

“Once upon a time, a long while ago, I met a wandering Scribe who told me how he had once heard a Door Mat and a Bass Broom talking to each other. Strange as it may seem, they appear to have made many shrewd observations, and, put into rhyme, this is the gist of what the Scribe said:—

This is the tale of the front Door Mat,

And this is the pith of his learning:

He who aspires as a brave man should;

She who desires what a sweet maid would;

Must, ere they rise in the World’s affairs,

Learn that the prizes they seek are theirs,

If they, in the struggle with carks and cares,

Keep Sweet!

Clean their feet!

And leave behind them the grit of the street!

This is the story he told his friend,

His friend, the Broom—

The Big, Bass Broom,

Who never was known to enter a Room,

But swept and scrubbed

Until he was dubbed

The terror of Drains and Greasy Stains,

The Garden Paths and the Clothes Yard!

This is his narrative, word for word,

Just as he rendered it; overheard [105]

Up near the door, where the Fairy Scribe

Wrote it all down for his own wee tribe;

And, so he said, to the Town next day

Took it to print; but I grieve to say

That not ’till now has it seen the light!

But, as you know, in the Town’s poor plight,

Things are o’erlooked both by night and day,

And thus, I learn, went the ‘proofs’ astray!

So, not till now has the tale been told:

Just as I give it you, true as gold!

Keep sweet!

Mind your feet!

And bring not in the grime of the street!

Said the Mat:

‘At the big front door I’ve stood for years,

And I’ve heard folks laugh, and seen folks’ tears;

I have seen them gay, and seen them sad,

I have known some good, and met some bad;

But from each and all I learned a truth,

And of this I speak in love and ruth;

For the thing they taught (which all may learn),

Is to purchase not before you earn;

For the man who buys ere his wage be paid,

Though he live in splendour will live afraid.

Keep sweet!

Brush your feet!

And forget, if you can, the mire of the street!

‘I have seen some come with goods to sell,

And I’ve known the truth they would not tell!

For if lies are used when wares are bought,

Then by lies be sure will sale be sought.

But of all such buying, sale and gain,

In the Book of Fate the sum’s writ plain;

For the one who robs by word or deed,

Of his soul sells out in stupid greed; [106]

And for such an one, when life is passed,

There is nought but grief for wealth amassed.

Keep sweet!

Watch your feet!

And step not into the filth of the street!

‘There were those who came with sorrow’s tale,

Of a wife long sick, and children pale;

Of a daughter weak or son just dead,

Of a mother starved for lack of bread!

But in these, I knew, Love’s fires were cold,

That their aim and hope was Pity’s gold!

Yet, for such the gold will turn to dross,

And the profits all shall come to loss;

For the Law is this while justice lives:

To the man be gain who value gives!

Keep sweet!

Dust your feet

And stand not out in the Stour of the Street!

‘But I’ve also seen throughout the years,—

As the worn and weary told their fears;

How the smile of hope effaces pain,

And the listless stir to life again

At the kind word said or good deed done

As they passed along; and everyone,

With a new-born joy and ardour filled,

Has again felt moved, if God so willed,

To withstand the Earth’s consuming fire,

And the nobler realms of Love aspire!

Keep sweet!

Stamp your feet!

And shake off the dust of the windy street!

‘And I’ve seen a child for flowers come in,

With a winning smile and dimpled chin; [107]

And the gift evoked within each breast,

An elation sweet, as of the blest!

For that blossom bright was sure to bloom

In the dullest days of doubt and gloom;

While the fragrance hid within its heart;

Of the child was soon to grow a part!

And the same note rings o’er all earth’s cries,

For a kindly action never dies!

Keep sweet!

Guard your feet!

And you need not touch the mud of the street!’

Said the Broom to the Mat:

‘In the yard I’ve lived most all my life,

And with dust and dirt I’m aye at strife;

So I know ’tis true the tale you tell,

For have I not also learned it well?

And to those who happen to cross my way,

From the facts I’ve gained, I often say:

If you want to win in life’s great game,

It is well to stop when burns the flame!

For the one who dares with fire to play,

Will in burnt-out ash be swept away!

For the Law is this: ’Tis clearly writ—

And the fate of fools all witness it:

Sweep hard!

Dirt discard!

Or you’ll slip on the slime of your own back yard!’ ”

So these are the words of the Mat and the Broom;

And this is the sum of their learning:

“Attempt not to better the style of your room,

Except by your own honest earning!

For the Liars, and Misers, and Swindlers, and Fools,

Are the handles and hafts of the Arch-Devil’s tools!

And this truth, it were well, should be taught in the schools: [108]

Sweep hard!

Dirt discard!

And never neglect your own back yard!”

When the “Official Recorder” had finished, the Prince stood up and said that he had great pleasure in asking the fourth of the “Five Story Tellers” to tell a tale.

And this is the story told by “Smell”:—