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Something to Cook About The Shoe Cobbler of Donbridge

  • Written by  RD Vincent
Something to Cook About The Shoe Cobbler of Donbridge

Our lumbering school bus bustled passed the many farm fields and tiny estates on our way home from our school.  I watched as we passed every street and house observing that no changes had occurred. But, as we reached the corner of our street, the old Victorian that sat dead center of the road was charred and burned flat to the ground.  Astonished, I looked all about and saw no evidence of firetrucks or boot prints, just one set of footprints that went in toward the house and out of the house as I had quickly observed while the bus was stopped.  “How did the fire go out? Did everyone make it out safely?” I wondered.  Soon the bus was at my house and there in our driveway was my grandmother who was waiting patiently for me.  Exiting the bus, I ran up to her, hugged her and told her of what I saw.  “Let’s head inside” She said.  “I need to shuck some peas for ham hock soup and while I work I will tell you a story that was similar to what you saw.”

In the town of Donbridge was a small cobbler shop that was sandwiched in the middle of the entire town.  There, a shoe maker named Linus Tillman worked endless hours cobbling shoes, repairing saddles and even fixed bridles.  Linus was quick at his craft and for most that would leave him a project by morning would have their repair completed by lunch.  But for as fast as he worked, Linus had an oddity about him that set him apart from most of the other Donbridgians, for even though he was a cobbler, he refused to wear shoes. Even in the coldest of winters and muddies of springs Linus could be seen barefoot without a care in the world.  When Midwife Sutton asked him one day why he refused to wear shoes, he simply replied “We weren’t born with them, so why have them on.”  

One spring afternoon, a thunder and light storm broke out over the countryside.  Lightening flashed across the valley of Donbridge and thunder echoed against the mountain peaks.  Rooted streams of lighting could be seen in the sky as the storm stretched for miles.  Lighting struck trees splitting them in two and all the while, Donbridgians hid away in their homes leaving the town barren.  Linus, having buggery for working long hours, kept right on working while others braved the storm from their homes.  When the clock tower struck Midnight the storms seemed to be coming to an end, but one last giant clasp of lighting could be heard out by the orphanage which was next to Linus’s shop. The lightning bolt struck the building with a great force and soon, the building was a blaze.  Flames rose from windows and no townsfolks seemed to know or hear the fire as so many had ignored the storms thunder and lightning.  The building continued to burn but all the while a miracle was at work.

The next morning the town awoke to the astonishment that the orphanage had burned flat to the ground.  Sadness filled the hearts of the Donbridgians mourning the loss of the children, but then from the back of the charred building, Maggie Blum, the town baker, shouted out “They’re here!” Maggie then waved the townsfolks to the back of the burned orphanage and there upon the ground rows after rows of children were asleep with ash upon their faces, but each child was safe and accounted for.  When the townsfolks looked about for an explanation to how the children were brought there, all they found were footprints in a single filed path leading from the orphanage to the field and next to each child was a brand new pair of shoes. 

When my grandmother finished her tale, she went to the stove to light the burner for her soup.  Soon a man knocked at our door.  “Hello Jules, he said as my grandmother went to let him in. “I better not come in, “no shoes and soot covered feet make for a dirty floor” he said with a chuckle.  “I have your boots for you, right on time” he proclaimed as he handed them to her with a smile.  Feeling compelled to look down at his feet I saw he was wearing no shoes and his toes were covered in mud with a hint of soot. The man saw I was staring at his feet and said, “Like I said, we weren’t born with them so why have them on.”  My grandmother just smiled as we watched man disappear down the road leaving little doubt he was off to help someone else in need.


Split Pea & Ham Hock Soup


1 small ham hock or ham bone  

1 cup chopped onion

5 cups of shelled peas

2 tsp of salt

½ tsp of pepper

½ cup of carrots

1 clove of garlic

1 tbsp of butter


In a large soup pot, simmer Ham Hock Bone along with Peas.  Make sure that water is covering all of the peas at the base.

Simmer for 1 hour or until peas have begun to break apart.

Remove the Ham Hock bone clearing all meat from it and then discard the bone.

Add in the carrots, onion, butter, salt, pepper and garlic.  

Simmer for 25 minutes more.

Let stand for 15 minutes. 


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