The Barefooted Boy.



ABOUT thirty years ago, we knew a little, white-

haired boy, who lived in one of the mountain 

towns of New England. His father worked hard

 upon his rocky farm to support his little family,

 in addition to which, from Sabbath to Sabbath,

 and also at other times, he preached the gospel

 freely to the poor, and endeavored to save men 

from the wrath to come.

This little boy had to work quite hard, live on

plain food, and sometimes was obliged to wear

poor clothes. Often he was without shoes, 

usually going barefoot in the summer months, 

and sometimes even after the frost had begun to

 stiffen the ground. His mother sent him regularly

 to the  village church and Sabbath-school, 

where he learned the Scriptures, and obtained

 books from  the library, which he read with 

much interest.  Nor would she allow him to 

remain at home,  though he was often obliged to

 go barefoot to  church and Sabbath-school.

There were several other boys there, who were

better dressed, if not better behaved, than this

 little boy; and they used to take delight in 

pestering, plaguing, and nicknaming the barefoot

 boy; and one of them, the son of the pastor of 

the church, when in the same class in Sabbath-

school, would sometimes kick the bare feet of 

the little boy with his new morocco shoes, of 

which he seemed quite proud.

The little boy did not stay away from Sabbath

 school for this, but kept studying and reading;

 and one day when his father procured him a pair

 of stout, stubbed shoes, he was much elated 

with the thought that Bill Blank would not be 

likely to try to kick his feet any more with his 

morocco boots.

A good many years have passed since then, and

not long ago I spent a Sabbath at that same 

village church. The house was well filled. I 

thought I saw the boy who wore the morocco

 boots sitting somewhere in the gallery, while 

the barefooted boy was in the pulpit, preaching

 the gospel of Christ to a deeply-interested and

 tearful congregation. And I thought I would tell

 our little readers about it, so that they might

 not be ashamed to go to Sabbath school,

even if they went there barefoot; but would

be in earnest to learn all they could, and fit 

themselves for future usefulness.

And if any of our readers are so foolish and so

wicked as to be proud of their own fine clothes,

and despise and torment others who are less 

richly clad, they will do well to remember that

 the time may come when they would be proud to

 make the acquaintance and share the friendship

 of some one whom they now regard as only a

 barefoot boy.





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