Walsh, his father's physician, and old Squire Horner. But in vain did
Billy present these credentials as he tramped the streets--nobody seemed
to need his services in a city containing millions of people. Billy's
capital was getting low and he was becoming discouraged. From one of
those profitless tramps he was returning one evening when he observed the
word "parsonage" on a door plate. He had always had a friend in a
preacher in his native town; why not make the acquaintance of this one?
Perhaps he might tell him of some sort of employment. Without stopping to
think further he pulled the bell. In a moment or two he found himself in
the presence of a young man, one but little older than himself, and the
stranger was invited inside, feeling very much at home with the preacher.
After quite a lengthy conversation the preacher remarked: "You are a
farmer; New York is no place for you. I would advise you to go out into
the country; and, by the way, I believe I saw, a day or two since, an
advertisement for a man to take charge of a farm."
After some search on the part of the minister the paper containing the
announcement was found. Billy, having eagerly read the advertisement,
thanked the minister, pushed the paper into his pocket, and speedily left
the house. He returned to the humble apartment that he had secured, and
as the little family partook of their frugal evening meal, his wife
Nancy, addressing her husband, said: "I think we had better get out of
this expensive city, somewhere into the country, where it is cheaper
living, and where you may find something to do more to your liking.
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