AMERICAN AGRICULTURIST. 
188 
must get rid of the children in some way. Per¬ 
haps I may get a pair of shoes or two for pay¬ 
ment for the half quarter, if I manage right, but 
it will never do to go on in this -way.” 
A little discomposed by her interview with 
the teacher, Mrs. Thompson stepped into a neigh¬ 
boring grocery to purchase some trifling articles 
of family stores. 
“ I have a little account against you. Will it 
be convenient for Mr. Thompson to settle it this 
evening ?” asked the polite shopkeeper, as he 
produced the desired articles. 
“Is it his usual time for settling?” was again 
the surprised inquiry. 
“Well, not exactly, but money is very tight 
just now, and I am anxious to get all that is due 
to me. In future I intend to keep short accounts; 
there is a little bill, if you would like to look at 
it. I will call around this evening. It is but a 
small affair.” 
“Thirty dollars is no small sum to us just 
now,” and she thoughtfully pursued her way 
homewards. 
“ It seems strange that all these payments 
must be met just now, while we are struggling 
to recover from the heavy expenses of the winter. 
I cannot understand it.” 
Her perplexity was increased by finding her 
husband with two bills in his hand, and a coun¬ 
tenance expressive of anxiety and concern. 
“Look, Mary,” he said, as she entered, “Here 
are two unexpected calls for money, one from 
the doctor, and one from the dealer in leather, 
from whom I purchased my last stock. '.They 
are both very urgent for immediate payment, 
although they have always been willing to wait 
a few months, until I could make arrangements 
to meet their claims. But misfortunes never 
come single, and if a man once gets behind 
hand, trouble seems to pour in upon him.” 
“Just so,” replied the wife. “ The neighbors 
think we are going down hill, and every one is 
ready to give us a push. Here are two more 
bills for you—one from the grocer and the other 
from the teacher.” 
Reply was prevented by a knock at the door, 
and the appearance of a lad who presented a 
neatly folded paper and disappeared. 
“ The butcher’s account, as I live!” exclaimed 
the astonished shoemaker. “What is to be 
done, Mary ? So much money to be paid out. 
and very little coming in; for some of my best 
customers have left me, although my work has 
always given satisfaction. If I could only have 
as much employment as usual, and the usual 
credit allowed me, I could soon satisfy all these 
claims; but to meet them is impossible, and the 
acknowledgement of inability would send us 
still on the downward path.” 
“We must do our best, and trust in Provi¬ 
dence,” was the consoling remark of his wife, as 
a second knock at the door aroused the fear 
that another claimant was about to appear. 
But the benevolent countenance of Uncle 
Joshua, a rare, but everwelcome visitor, pre¬ 
sented itself. Seating himself in the comfortable 
chair that Mary hastened to hand him, he said, 
in his eccentric but friendly manner: 
“ Well my good folks, I understand the world 
does not go as well with you as formerly. 
What’s the trouble ?” 
“ There need be no trouble,” was the reply, 
“ if men would not try to add to the afflictions 
which the Almighty sees to be necessary for us. 
The winter was a trying one. We met with 
sickness and misfortunes, which we endeavored 
to bear with patience. All would now go on 
well if those around me were not determined to 
push me in the downward path. 
“But there lies the difficulty, friend Thomp¬ 
son. This is a selfish world. Everybody, or 
at least a great majority, care only for number 
one. If they see a poor neighbor getting down 
hill, their first thought is whether it will affect 
their own interests, and provided they can se¬ 
cure themselves they care not how soon he goes 
to the bottom. The only way is to keep up 
appearances. Show no signs of getting behind 
hand, and all will go wejl with you.” 
“ Very true, Uncle Joshua, but how is this to 
be done? Bills which I did not expect to meet 
for the next three months are pouring in upon 
me. My best customers have left me for a more 
fortunate rival. In short, I am on the brink of 
ruin, and nought but a miracle can save me.” 
“A miracle which is very easy wrought I im¬ 
agine, my good friend. What is the amount of 
your debts which press so heavily upon you, 
and how soon, in the common course of events, 
could you discharge them ?” 
“ They do not exceed one hundred dollars,” 
replied the shoemaker, “and with my usual 
run of work, I could make all right in three or 
four months.” 
“We will say six,” was the answer. “ I will 
advance you one hundred and sixty dollars for 
six months. Pay every cent you owe, and 
with the remainder of the money make some 
slight improvement in your shop or house, and 
put every thing about the grounds in its usual 
neat order. Try this plan for a few weeks, and 
we will see what effect it has upon our worthy 
neighbors. No, no, never mind thanking me. 
I am only trying a little experiment on human 
nature. I know you of old, and have no doubt 
my money is safe in your hands.” 
Weeks passed by. The advice of Uncle 
Joshua had been strictly followed, and the 
change in the shoemaker’s prospects was in¬ 
deed wonderful. He was now spoken of as one 
of the most thriving men of the village, and 
many marvellous stories were told to account 
for the sudden alteration in his affairs. 
It was generally agreed that a distant relative 
had entirely relieved him of his pecuniary diffi¬ 
culties. Old customers and new ones crowded 
in upon him. They had never before realized 
the beauty and durability of his work. The 
polite butcher selected the best pieces of meat 
for his inspection, as he entered, and was to¬ 
tally indifferent as to the time of payment. The 
teacher accompanied the children home to tea, 
and spoke in high terms of their improvement, 
pronouncing them among her best scholars. 
The dress-maker suddenly found herself free 
from the great press for work, and in a friendly 
note expressed her desire to oblige Mrs. Thomp¬ 
son in any way in her power. 
“ Just as I expected,” exclaimed Uncle Josh¬ 
ua, rubbing his hands exultingly, as the grate¬ 
ful shoemaker called upon him at the expiration 
of six months, with the money which had been 
loaned in the hour of need. “ Just as I ex¬ 
pected. A strange world! They are ready to 
push a man up hill, if he seems to be ascending 
and just as ready to push him down, if they 
find that his face is turned that way. In future, 
neighbor Thompson, let every thing around you 
wear an air of prosperity, and you will be sure 
to prosper.” And with a satisfied air, Uncle 
Joshua placed his money in his pocket-book, 
ready to meet some other claim upon his benev¬ 
olence, whilst he whom he had thus befriended 
with a light step and cheerful countenance, re¬ 
turned to his happy home .—Author unknoicn. 
- ® © « - 
Chicken Pot-ihe. —Take a full grown chicken 
or fowl, cut it as for stewing or pie, rinse it in 
cold water, and put it into a stew-pan with hot 
water to cover it, add a half pound of salt pork, 
cut in thin slices, if liked, or a large teaspoon¬ 
ful of salt, let it boil gently for half an hour, 
(unless it is a young chicken, when it need not 
be parboiled,) take off the scum, make a pie or pot 
pie crust, make it rather more than half an inch 
thick, line sides only of a dinner pot, (if it extends 
down it will burn,) put the meat in the bottom, 
take a piece of butter the size of a large egg, 
and cut it in small bits, put it over the meat; 
not half as much butter will be required if pork 
is used, dredge it white with flour, put in water 
from the stew-pan, and if it does not reach 
nearly to the top of the crust, add more hot 
water; lay skewers across the top, roll out the 
paste, reserve enough to cover the pie, cut the 
remainder in small squares and drop them in 
the pie, then put on the top crust, cut a slit in 
the centre and cover the pot. Set it over a 
moderate fire to boil gently for three-quarters 
of an hour ; then take a fork and try the top 
crust, if it be done take the pie up. 
Boston Baked Beans. —Baked beans are a 
great dish with all Yankees, and the following 
recipe for “ Boston Baked Beans,” from “ Mrs. 
Webster’s Improved Housewife,” we think will 
be acceptable to our housekeeping friends: 
Take two quarts of middling-sized white beans, 
three pounds of salt pork aud one spoonfull of 
molasses. Pick the beans over carefully, wash 
and turn about a gallon of soft water to them in 
a pot; let them soak in it lukewarm over night; 
set them in the morning where they will boil till 
the skin is very tender and about to break, ad¬ 
ding a teaspoonful of saleratus. Take them up 
dry, put them in your dish, stir in the molasses, 
gash the pork, and put it down in the dish so as 
to have the beans cover all but the upper sur¬ 
face ; turn in cold water till the top is covered ; 
bake and let the beans remain in the oven ail 
night. Beans are good prepared as for baking, 
made a little thinner, and then boiled several 
hours with the pork. 
-- 
HINTS TO FEMALES. 
The News and Advertiser of Middletown, 
Ct., is an ever-welcome visitor, and we should 
feel that a friend had deserted us, were we to 
miss it from our table. Dr. Wh. B. Casey, its 
able editor, has in former times given us some 
very wholesome medical advice, and we were at 
first sorry to learn, in addition to his professional 
duties, that he had assumed the cares of an 
editor. But he seems to like his new position 
so well, that he is trying to destroy his profes¬ 
sional business; at least if his patients take the 
following advice, coming as it does with a double 
sanction, of a doctor and editor, we feel quite 
certain many of his patients will dispense with 
his future professional services—The Doctor 
says: 
We once in a while take it upon ourself to 
administer a little advice to the male sex, re¬ 
specting sundry bad habits, in which it is proue 
to indulge; and we see no good reason why we 
should not venture upon a little remonstrance to 
the gentler sex, in regard to certain dangerous 
and unwholesome practices, into which “ the 
girls ” have allowed themselves to fall. We re¬ 
fer now more particularly to the pernicious habit 
of their wearing thin shoes. We admire a 
neat, pretty foot, as also a trim, well-turned 
ankle, but must protest ag'dinst the exhibition of 
such articles under improper or disadvantageous 
circumstances. A thin, paper-soled shoe or 
slipper may do very well for in-door use, but do, 
dear ladies, we entreat of you, exchange the 
shoes aforesaid for a stout, substantial boot, 
when you go out of doors, and are obliged to 
walk in cold or damp weather. Don’t tell us, 
that in such cases, you wear India rubber over¬ 
shoes ; we know you do, when it actually rains 
or snows; but there are very many times when 
you leave the over-shoes at home, and with 
your feet encased in neat, thin gaiters, you step 
off, as if you were impervious to wet and cold, 
and consider yourselves perfectly secure 
against any attacks of disease through that 
mode of approach. Now the fact is, that very 
many, and very severe “colds” are caught, by 
this thoughtless and unnecessary exposure, and 
we doubt if disease finds a readier method of ac¬ 
cess to the system, than through the feet. Nor 
are “Rubbers” as wholesome as good stout 
leather. They (the rubbers) arc most decidedly 
useful articles, and we have nothing to say 
against their use in wet weather; but in dry, 
cold weather, we believe substantial leather 
boots or shoes, much more conducive to health 
and comfort. They do not cause the feet to 
perspire as do the over-shoes. In England 
where there is much more wet and damp weath¬ 
er than with us, the ladies wear stout and even 
thick shoes. They do not, as too many of our 
women do, sacrifice health to appearance, and 
are not ashamed to be seen on the streets, with 
their feet protected by shoes and soles, which 
announce their approach at some distance.— 
What if they do not glide along as noiselessly 
as spirits; at all events they are less apt on 
that account actually to become spirits. Take 
our advice, ladies, and don’t wear thin shoes, 
