The ROOF-RAISING.

SOME years after he was ſettled, he built a large new barn. All the work⯑men were looking forward to the uſual holiday of roof-raiſing. On this occa⯑ſion it was a cuſtom to give a dinner to the workmen, with ſo much liquor af⯑ter it that they got ſo drunk, that they [8]not only loſt the remaining half day's work, but they were not always able to work the next day.

Mrs. White provided a plentiful din⯑ner for roof raiſing, and gave each man his mug of beer. After a hearty meal they began to grow clamorous for more drink. The farmer ſaid, "My lads, I don't grudge you a few gallons of ale merely for the ſake of ſaving my liquor, though that is ſome conſideration; but I never will, knowingly, help any man to make a beaſt of himſelf. I am re⯑ſolved to break through a bad cuſtom. You are now well refreſhed. If you will go cheerfully to your work, you will have half a day's pay to take on Saturday night more than you would if this af⯑ternoon were waſted in drunkenneſs. For this your families will be the better: whereas, were I to give you more liquor when you have already had enough, I ſhould help to rob them of their bread. But I wiſh to ſhew you, that I have your good at heart full as much as my own profit. If you will now go to work, I will give you all another mug at night when you leave off. Thus your time [9]will be ſaved, your families helped, and my ale will not go to make reaſonable creatures worſe than brute beaſts."

Here he ſtopped. "You are in the right on't, Maſter," ſaid Tom the thatcher; "You are a hearty man, Farmer," ſaid John Plane the carpenter. "Come a⯑long boys," ſaid Tim Brick the maſon; ſo they all went merrily to work, for⯑tified with a good dinner. There was only one drunken ſurly fellow who refuſed, that was Dick Guzzle the Smith. Dick never works above two or three days in the week, and ſpends the others at the Red Lion. He ſwore, that if the farmer did not let him have as much liquor as he liked at Roof-Raiſ⯑ing, he would not ſtrike another ſtroke, but would leave the job unfiniſhed, and he might get hands where he could. Farmer White took him at his word, and paid him off directly: glad enough to get rid of ſuch a ſot, whom he had only employed from pity to a large and almoſt ſtarving family. When the men came for their mug in the evening, the farmer brought out the remains of the cold gammon; they made a hearty ſupper [10]and thanked him for having broke through a fooliſh cuſtom, which was afterwards much left off in that pariſh, though Dick would not come into it, and loſt moſt of his work.

Farmer White's labourers were often complaining, that things were ſo dear that they could not buy a bit of meat. He knew it was partly true, but not en⯑tirely, for it was before theſe very hard times. One morning he ſtept out to ſee how an outhouſe which he was thatch⯑ing went on. He was ſupriſed to find the work at a ſtand. He walked over to the thatcher's houſe. "Tom," ſaid he, "I deſire that piece of work may be finiſhed directly. If a ſhower comes my grain will be ſpoiled." "Indeed, Maſter, I ſhan't work to-day; nor to⯑morrow neither," ſaid Tom. "You for⯑get that 'tis Eaſter Monday, and to-morrow is Eaſter Tueſday. And ſo on Wedneſ⯑day I ſhall thatch away maſter. But 'tis hard if a poor man who works all the year may not enjoy theſe few holidays.

"Tom," ſaid the farmer, "when theſe days were firſt put into our prayer-book, [11]the good men who did it, lit⯑tle thought that the time would come when holyday ſhould mean drunken-day. How much doſt think now I ſhall pay thee for this piece of thatch?" "Why you know maſter you have let it to me by the great. I think between this and to-mor⯑row night, as the weather is ſo fine, I could clear about four ſhillings, after I have paid my boy. But thatching does not come often, and other work is not ſo profitable." "Very well, Tom; and how much now do you think you may ſpend in theſe two holidays?" "Why maſter, if the ale is pleaſant, and the company mer⯑ry, I do not expect to get off for leſs than three ſhillings." "Tom, can you do pounds, ſhillings, and pence?" "I can make a little ſcore maſter behind the kitchen door with a bit of chalk, which is as much as I want." "Well Tom, add the four ſhillings you would have earned to the three you intend to ſpend, what does that make?" "Let me ſee! three and four make ſeven. Seven ſhillings maſter." "Tom, you often tell me the times are ſo bad that you can never buy a bit of meat. Now here is the coſt of two joints at once; to ſay nothing of the ſin of waſting time [12]and getting drunk." "I never once thought of that," ſaid Tom. "Now Tom," ſaid the farmer, "if I were you, I would ſtep over to Butcher Jobbins's, buy a ſhoulder of mutton, which being left from Saturday's market you will get a little cheaper. This I would make my wife bake in a deep diſh full of potatoes. I would then go to work, and when the dinner was ready I would go and enjoy it with my wife and children; you need not give the mutton to the brats; the potatoes will have all the gravy, and be very ſavory for them." "Aye, but I've got no beer maſter, the times are ſo hard that a poor man can't afford to brew a drop of drink now as we uſed to do."

"Times are bad, and malt is very dear Tom, and yet both don't prevent your throwing away ſeven ſhillings in keeping holiday. Now ſend for a quart of ale, as it is to be a feaſt; and you will even then be four ſhillings richer than if you had gone to the publick houſe. I would put by theſe four ſhillings, till I could add a couple to them; with this I would get a buſhel of malt, and my wife ſhould brew [13]it, and you may take a pint at home of a night, which will do you more good than a gallon at the Red Lion" "I have a great mind to take your advice, maſter, but I ſhall be made ſuch fun of at the Lion; they will ſo laugh at me if I don't go." Let thoſe laugh that win, Tom." "But maſter, I have got a friend to meet me there." "Then aſk your friend to come and eat a bit of your cold mutton at night, and here is ſix-pence for another pot, if you will promiſe to brew a ſmall caſk of your own." "Thank you, maſ⯑ter, and ſo I will; and I won't go to the Lion. Come boy, bring the helm, and fetch the ladder." And ſo Tom was upon the roof in a twinkling.

The SHEEP SHEARING.

Dr. Shepherd happened to ſay to Farmer White one day, "that there was nothing he diſliked more than the manner, in which ſheep-ſhearing and harveſt home were kept by ſome in his pariſh. What, ſaid the good Doctor, juſt when we are bleſt with theſe natural riches of our land, the fleece of our flocks; when our barns are crowned with plenty, and we have [14]reaped the fruits of the earth in due ſea⯑ſon; is that very time to be ſet apart for ribaldry, and riot, and drunkenneſs? Do we thank GOD for his mercies by making ourſelves unworthy and unfit to enjoy them?

"I thank you for the hint, ſir," ſaid the farmer, "I am reſolved to rejoice though, and others ſhall rejoice with me; And we will have a merry night on't."

So Mrs. White dreſſed a very plentiful ſupper of meat and pudding; and ſpread out two tables. The farmer ſat at the head of one, conſiſting of ſome of the neigh⯑bours, and all his work-people. At the other ſat his wife, with two long benches on each ſide of her. At theſe ſat all the old and infirm poor, eſpecially thoſe who lived in the workhouſe, and had no day of feſtivity to look forward to in the whole year but this. On the graſs, in the little court, ſat the children of his labourers, and of the other poor, whoſe employment it had been to gather flowers, and dreſs and adorn the horns of the ram; for the farmer did not wiſh to put an end to any old cuſtom, if it was innocent. His own [15]children ſtood by the table, and he gave them plenty of pudding, which they car⯑ried to the children of the poor, with a little draught of cider to every one.

This feaſt, though orderly and decent, was yet hearty and cheerful. Dr. Shep⯑herd dropped in with a good deal of com⯑pany he had at his houſe, and they were much pleaſed. When the Doctor ſaw how the aged and the infirm poor were enjoy⯑ing themſelves, he was much moved; he ſhook the ſarmer by the hand, and ſaid, "But thou, when thou makeſt a feaſt, call the blind, and the lame, and the halt; they cannot recompenſe thee, but thou ſhalt be recompenſed at the reſurrection of the juſt."

"Sir," ſaid the farmer, "'tis no great matter of expence, I kill a ſheep of my own; potatoes are as plenty as blackber⯑ries, with people who have a little fore⯑thought. I ſave much more cider in the courſe of a year by never allowing any carouſing in my kitchen, or drunkenneſs in my fields, than would ſupply many ſuch feaſts as theſe, ſo that I ſhall be never the poorer at Chriſtmas. It is cheaper [16]to make people happy, ſir, than to wake them drunk. The Doctor and the ladies condeſcended to walk from one table to the other, and heard many merry ſtories, but not one profane word, or one in⯑decent ſong; ſo that he was not forced to the painful neceſſity either of reprov⯑ing them, or leaving them in anger. When all was over they ſung the ſixty⯑fifth pſalm, and the ladies all joined in it, and when they got home to the vi⯑carage to tea, they declared they liked it better than any concert.

The HARD WINTER.

IN the famous cold winter of the pre⯑ſent year, 1795, it was edifying to ſee how patiently farmer White bore that long and ſevere froſt. Many of his ſheep were frozen to death, but he thank⯑ed GOD that he had ſtill many left. He continued to find in-door work that his men might not be out of employ. Mrs. White was ſo conſiderate, that juſt at that time ſhe leſſened the number of her hogs, that ſhe might have more whey and ſkim milk to aſſiſt poor fa⯑milies. Nay, I have known her live [17]on boiled meat for a long while toge⯑ther, in a ſickly ſcaſon, becauſe the pot⯑liquor made ſuch a ſupply of broth for the ſick poor. As the ſpring came on and things grew worſe, ſhe never had a cake, a pye, or a pudding in her houſe; though ſhe uſed to have plenty of theſe good things, and will again I hope when the preſent ſcarcity is over; though ſhe ſays ſhe never will uſe ſuch white flour again, even if it ſhould come down to five ſhillings a buſhel.

All the pariſh now began to murmur. Farmer Jones was ſure the froſt had killed the wheat. Farmer Wilſon ſaid the rye would never come up. Brown the maltſter inſiſted the barley was dead at the root. Butcher Jobbins ſaid beef would be a ſhilling a pound. All de⯑clared there would not be a hop to brew with. The orchards were all blighted, there would not be apples enough to make a pye; and as to hay there would be none to be had for love nor money. "I'll tell you what," ſaid farmer White, "the ſeaſon is dreadful. The crops are unpromiſing juſt now: but 'tis too early to judge. Don't let us make things [18]worſe than they are. We ought to com⯑fort the poor, and you are driving them to deſpair. Don't you know how much GOD was diſpleaſed with the murmurs of his choſen people? And yet, when they were tired of manna he ſent them quails; but all did not do. Nothing ſatisfies grumblers. We have a promiſe on our ſide, that there ſhall be ſeed time and harveſt time to the end. Let us then hope for a good day, but provide againſt an evil one. Let us rather prevent the evil before it is come upon us, than ſink under it when it comes. Grumbling can't help us. Activity can. Let us ſet about planting potatoes in every nook and corner, in caſe the corn ſhould fail, which however I don't believe. Let us mend our management before we are driven to it by actual want. And if we allow our honeſt labourers to plant a few potatoes for their families in the head lands of our ploughed fields, or other waſte bits of ground, it will do us no harm, and be a great help to them."

The farmer had many temptations to ſend his corn at an extravagant price to [19]a certain ſea [...]port town; but as he knew that it was intended to export it againſt law, he would not be tempted to encourage unlawful gain; ſo he threſhed out a ſmall mow at a time, and ſold it to the neighbouring poor far below the market price. He ſerved his own work⯑men firſt. This was the ſame to them as if he had raiſed their wages, and even better, as it was a benefit of which their families were ſure to partake. If the poor in the next pariſh were more diſ⯑treſſed than his own, he ſold to them at the ſame rate. "For," ſaid he, "there is no diſtinction of pariſhes in heaven, and though charity begins at home, yet it ought not to end there."

He had been uſed in good times now and then to catch a hare or a partridge, as he was qualified. But he now reſolv⯑ed to give up that pleaſure. So he part⯑ed from a couple of ſpaniels he had; for he ſaid he could not bear that his dogs ſhould be eating the meat, or the milk which ſo many men, women, and children wanted.

The WHITE LOAF.

ONE day, it was about the middle of laſt July, when things ſeemed to be at the deareſt, and the Rulers of the land had agreed to ſet the example of eating nothing but coarſe bread. Doctor Shep⯑herd read, before ſermon, in the church their public declaration, which the magiſ⯑trates of the county ſent him, and had alſo ſigned themſelves. Mrs. White of courſe was at church, and commended it migh⯑tily. Next morning the Doctor took a walk over to the farmer's, in order to ſettle further plans for the relief of the pariſh. He was much ſurpriſed to meet Mrs. White's little maid Sally with a very ſmall white loaf, which ſhe had been buying at a ſhop. He ſaid nothing to the girl, as he never thought it right to expoſe the faults of a miſtreſs to her ſervant; but walked on, reſolving to give Mrs. White a ſevere lecture for the firſt time in his life. He ſoon changed his mind, for on going into the kitchen the firſt perſon he ſaw was Tom the thatcher, who had had a ſad fall from a ladder; his arm, which was ſlipped out of his ſleeve, was ſwelled in a frightful manner. [21]Mrs. White was ſtanding at the dreſſer making the little white loaf into a poul⯑tice, which ſhe laid upon the ſwelling in a large clean old cloth.

"I aſk your pardon, my good Sarah," ſaid the Doctor, "I ought not, however appearances were againſt you, to have ſuſpected that ſo humble and prudent a woman as you are, would be led either to indulge any daintineſs of your own, or to fly in the face of your betters, by eating white bread while they are eating brown. Whenever I come here I ſee it is not needful to be rich in order to be charitable. A bountiful rich man would have ſent Tom to a ſurgeon, who would have done no more for him than you have done; for in thoſe inflamma⯑tions the moſt ſkilful ſurgeon could only apply a poultice; Your kindneſs in dreſ⯑ſing the wound yourſelf, will, I doubt not, perform the cure at the expence of that three-penny loaf and a little hog's lard. And I will take care that Tom ſhall have a good ſupply of Rice from the Sub⯑ſcription." "And he ſhan't want for ſkim milk," ſaid Mrs. White, and was he the beſt lord in the land, in the ſtate he is in, a diſh [22]of good nice milk would be better for him than the niceſt meat.

The PARISH MEETING.

ON the tenth of Auguſt the veſtry held another meeting, to conſult on the beſt method of further aſſiſting the poor. The abundant crops now cheered every heart. Farmer White had a mind to be a little jocular with his deſponding neighbours. Well, neighbour Jones," ſaid he, "all the wheat was killed, I ſuppoſe. The barley all dead at the root. Farmer Jones look⯑ed ſheepiſh, and ſaid, to be ſure the crops had turned out better than he thought. Then," ſaid Dr. Shepherd, "let us learn truſt Providence another time."

Among other things, they agreed to ſubſcribe for a large quantity of rice, which was to be ſold out to the poor at a very low price, and Mrs. White was ſo kind as to undertake the trouble of ſelling it. After their day's work was over, all who wiſhed to buy at theſe reduced rates were ordered to come to the farm on the Tueſday evening. Dr. Shepherd dropped in at the ſame time, and when Mrs. White [23]had done weighing her rice, the Doctor ſpoke as follows: "My honeſt friends, it has pleaſed GOD to viſit this land with a ſcarcity, to which we have been little accuſtomed. There are ſome idle evil minded people who are on the watch for public diſtreſſes, not that they may humble themſelves un⯑der the mighty hand of GOD, (which is the true uſe to be made of all troubles) but that they may benefit themſelves by diſturbing the public peace. Theſe peo⯑ple, by riot and drunkenneſs, double the evil which they pretend to cure. Riot will compleat our misfortunes, while peace, induſtry, and good management, will go near to cure them. Bread to be ſure is uncommonly dear. Among the various ways of making it cheaper, one is to re⯑duce the quality of it, another, to leſſen the quantity we conſume. If we cannot get enough of coarſe wheaten bread, let us make it of other grain. Or let us mix one half of potatoes, and one half of wheat. This laſt is what I eat in my own family. It is pleaſant and whole⯑ſome. Our bleſſed Saviour are barley [24]bread you know, as we were told in the laſt month's Sunday Reading of the Cheap Repoſitory, which I hope you have all heard; as I deſired the maſter of the Sun⯑day ſchool to read it juſt after evening ſervice, when I know many of the parents are apt to call in at the ſchool. This is a good cuſtom, and one of thoſe little books ſhall be often read at that time.

"My good women, I truly feel for you at this time of ſcarcity; and I am go⯑ing to ſhew my good will, as much by my advice as my ſubſcription. It is my duty, as your friend and miniſter, to tell you, that one half of your preſent hard⯑ſhips is owing to BAD MANAGEMENT. I often meet your children without ſhoes and ſtockings, with great luncheons of the very whiteſt bread, and that three times a day. Half that quantity, and ſtill leſs if it were coarſe, put into a diſh of good onion or leek porridge, would make them an excellent breakfaſt. Many too of the very pooreſt of you eat your bread hot from the oven; this makes the difference of one loaf in five; I aſſure you 'tis what I cannot afford to do. Come [25]Mrs. White, you may aſſiſt me a little. I am not very knowing in theſe matters myſelf; but I know that the rich would be twice as charitable, if the poor made a better uſe of their bounty. Mrs. White do give theſe poor women a little advice how to make their pittance go further than it now does. When you lived with me you were famous for making us nice, cheap diſhes, and I dare ſay you are not leſs notable now you manage for your⯑ [...]lf."

"Indeed neighbours, ſaid Mrs. White, what the good doctor ſays is very true, A halfpenny worth of oatmeal or groats, with a leek or onion, out of your own garden, which coſts nothing, a bit of ſalt, and a little coarſe bread, will breakfaſt your whole family. It is a great miſtake at any time to think a bit of meat ſo rui⯑nous, and a great load of bread ſo cheap. A poor man gets ſeven or eight ſhillings a week; if he is careful he brings it home. I dare not ſay how much of this goes for tea in the afternoon, now ſugar and but⯑ter are ſo dear, becauſe I ſhould have you all upon me, but I will ſay that too [26]much of this little goes even for bread, from a notion that it is the hardeſt fare. This at all times, but particularly juſt now, is bad management. Dry peaſe to be ſure have been very dear lately; but now they are plenty enough. I am cer⯑tain then, that if a ſhilling or two of the ſeven or eight was laid out for a bit of coarſe beef, a ſheep's head, or any ſuch thing, it would be well beſtowed. I would throw a couple of pound of this into the pot, with two or three handfuls of grey peas, an onion, and a little pepper. Then I would throw in cabbage, or tur⯑nip, and carrot; or any garden ſtuff that was moſt plenty; let it ſtew two or three hours, and it will make a diſh fit for his Majeſty. The working man ſhould have the meat; the children don't want it, the ſoup will be thick and ſubſtantial, and re⯑quires no bread.

RICE MILK.

"YOU who can get ſkim milk, as all our workmen can, have a great advantage. A quart of this, and a quarter of a pound of the rice you have juſt bought, a little [27]bit of all ſpice, and brown ſugar, will make a dainty and a cheap diſh."

"Bleſs your heart!" muttered Amy Grumble, who looked as dirty as a cinder⯑wench, with her face and fingers all daub⯑ed with ſnuff; "rice milk indeed! it is very nice to be ſure for thoſe who can dreſs it, but we have not a bit of coal; rice is of no uſe to us without firing." "And yet," ſaid the Doctor, "I ſee your tea-kettle boiling twice every day, as I paſs by the poor-houſe, and freſh butter at eleven⯑pence a pound on your ſhelf." "O dear, ſir," cried Amy, "a few ſticks ſerve to boil the tea-kettle." "And a few more," ſaid the Doctor, "will boil the rice milk, and give twice the nouriſhment at a quarter of the expence."

RICE PUDDING.

"PRAY Sarah," ſaid the Doctor, "how did you uſe to make that pudding my children were ſo fond of? And I re⯑member when it was cold, we uſed to have it in the parlour for ſupper." "Nothing more eaſy," ſaid Mrs. White. "I put [28]half a pound of rice, two quarts of ſkim milk, and two ounces of brown ſugar." "Well," ſaid the Doctor, "and how many will this dine?" "Seven or eight, ſir." Very well, and what will it coſt?" Why, ſir, it did not coſt you ſo much becauſe we baked it at home, and I uſed our own milk; it will not coſt above ſeven-pence to thoſe who pay for both. Here too bread is ſaved."

"Pray, Sarah, let me put in a word," ſaid farmer White. "I adviſe my men to raiſe each a large bed of parſnips. They are very nouriſhing, and very pro⯑fitable. Sixpennyworth of ſeed, well [...]owed, and trod in, will produce more meals than four ſacks of potatoes; and what is material to you who have ſo little ground, it will not require more than an eighth part of the ground which the four ſacks will take. Parſnips are very good the ſecond day warmed in-the frying-pan, and a little raſher of pork or bacon will give them a nice flavour."

Dr. Shepherd now ſaid, "as a proof of the nouriſhing quality of parſnips, I [29]was reading in a hiſtory book this very day, that the American Indians make a great part of their bread of parſnips, though Indian corn is ſo famous: it will make a little variety too."

"I remember," ſaid Mrs. White, "a cheap diſh, ſo nice that it makes my mouth water. I peel ſome raw potatoes, ſlice them thin, put the ſlices into a deep frying-pan, or pot, with a little water, an onion, and a bit of pepper. Then I get a bone or two of a breaſt of mut⯑ton, or a little ſtrip of ſalt pork, and put into it. Cover it down cloſe, keep in the ſteam, and let it ſtew for an hour."

"You really get me an appetite, Mrs. White, by your dainty receipts," ſaid the Doctor. "I am reſolved to have this diſh at my own table." "I could tell you another very good diſh, and ſtill cheaper," anſwered ſhe. "Come, let us have it," cried the Doctor. "I ſhall write all down as ſoon as I get home, and I will favour any body with a copy of theſe receipts who will call [30]at my houſe." "And I will do more, Sir," ſaid Mrs. White, "for I will put any of theſe women in the way how to dreſs it, the firſt time, if they are at a loſs. But this is my diſh.

"Take two or three pickled herrings, put them into a ſtone jar, fill it up with potatoes, and a little water, and let it bake in the oven till it is done. I would give one hint more," added ſhe; "I have taken to uſe nothing but potatoe ſtarch; and though I ſay it, that ſhould not ſay it, nobody's linen in a common way looks better than ours."

The Doctor now ſaid, "I am ſorry for one hardſhip which many poor people labour under, I mean the difficulty of getting a little milk. I wiſh all farmers' wives were as conſiderate as you are, Mrs. White. A little milk is a great comfort to the poor, eſpecially when their children are ſick. And I have known it anſwer to the ſeller as well as to the buyer, to keep a cow or two on purpoſe to ſell it out by the quart."

[31]"Sir," ſaid farmer White, "I beg leave to ſay a word to the men, if you pleaſe, for all your advice goes to the women. If you will drink leſs Gin you may get more meat. If you abſtain from the alehouſe you may many of you get a little one-way beer at home." "Aye, that we can Farmer," ſaid poor Tom the thatcher, who was now got well. "Eaſter Monday for that—I ſay no more.—A word to the wiſe." The Farmer ſmiled and went on. "The number of public houſes in many a pariſh brings on more hunger and rags than all the taxes in it, heavy as they are. All the other evils put together hardly make up the ſum of that one. We are now raiſing a freſh ſubſcription for you. This will be our rule of giving. We will not give to Sots, Gamblers, and Sabbath-breakers. Thoſe who do not ſet their young children to work on week days, and ſend them to ſchool on Sundays, deſerve little favour. No man ſhould keep a dog till he has more food than his family wants. If he feeds them at home they rob his chil⯑dren; if he ſtarves them, they rob his neighbours. We have heard in a neigh⯑bouring [32]city that ſome people carried back the ſubſcription loaves becauſe they were too coarſe; but we hope better things of you." Here Betty Plane beg⯑ged, with all humility, to put in a word. "Certainly," ſaid the Doctor, "we will liſten to all modeſt complaints, and try to redreſs them. You were pleaſed to ſay, ſir," ſaid ſhe, "that we might find much comfort from buying coarſe bits of beef. And ſo we might, but you do not know, ſir, that we can ſeldom get them, even when we had the money, and times were not ſo bad." "How ſo, Betty?" "Sir, when we go to butcher Jobbins for a bit of ſhin, or any other lean piece, his anſwer is, 'You can't have it to-day. The cook at the great houſe has beſpoke it for gravy, or the Doctor's maid (beg⯑ging your pardon, ſir) has juſt ordered it for ſoup.' Now, ſir, if ſuch kind gentle⯑folks were aware that this gravy and ſoup, not only conſume a great deal of meat, (which, to be ſure, thoſe have a right to uſe who can pay for it) but that it takes away thoſe coarſe pieces which the poor would buy, if they bought at all, I am ſure they would not do it. [33]For indeed the rich have been very kind, and I don't know what we ſhould have done without them.

"I thank you for the hint Betty," ſaid the Doctor, "and I aſſure you I will have no more gravy ſoup. My garden will ſupply me with ſoups, that are both wholeſomer and better. And I will anſwer for my lady at the great houſe that ſhe will do the ſame. I hope this will be⯑come a general rule, and then we ſhall expect that the butchers will favour you in the prices of the coarſe pieces, if we buy nothing but the prime. In our gifts we ſhall prefer, as the farmer has told you, thoſe who keep ſteadily to their work: Such as come to the veſtry for a loaf, and do not come to church for the ſermon, we ſhall mark; and prefer thoſe who come conſtantly whether there are any gifts or not. But there is one rule from which we will never depart. Thoſe who have been ſeen aiding or abetting any RIOT, any attack on butchers, bakers, wheat mows, mills, or millers, we will not relieve. With the quiet, contented, hard-working man, I will ſhare my laſt [34]morſel of bread. I ſhall only add, that though it has pleaſed GOD to ſend us this viſitation as a puniſhment, yet we may convert this ſhort trial into a laſting bleſ⯑ſing, if we all turn over a new leaf. Proſ⯑perity had made moſt of us careleſs. The thoughtleſs profuſion of ſome of the rich, could only be exceeded by the idle⯑neſs and bad management of ſome of the poor. Let us now at laſt adopt that good old maxim, EVERY ONE MEND ONE. And may GOD add his bleſſing!"

The people now cheerfully departed with their rice, reſolving, as many of them as could get milk, to put one of Mrs. White's receipts in practice that very night; and a rare ſupper they had.

I hope ſoon to give a good account how this pariſh improved in eaſe and comfort, by their improvement in fru⯑gality and good management.