For some years “Cobbler” Horn had been a teacher in a small Mission Sunday School, which was carried on in a low part of the town by several members of Mr. Durnford’s church. But, about a year previous to the change in his circumstances, he had been persuaded by the minister to transfer his services to the larger school. He always made the conversion of his scholars his chief aim; and very soon after he entered on his new sphere, one of the boys in his class, a bright little fellow about nine years old, named Willie Raynor, had been very remarkably converted to God. The boy was promising to become a very thorough-going Christian, and no one rejoiced more than he in the good fortune of “Cobbler” Horn.
There was considerable speculation, amongst the friends and fellow-teachers of “the Golden Shoemaker,” as to whether his altered circumstances would lead to the relinquishment of his work in the school. Little Willie Raynor heard some whisper of this talk, and was much distressed. His relations with his beloved teacher were very close; and, without a moment’s hesitation, he went straight to “Cobbler” Horn, and asked him what he was going to do.
“Mr. Horn, you won’t leave the school now you are a rich man, will you? Because I don’t think we can do without you!”
“Cobbler” Horn was taken by surprise. The idea of leaving the school had never occurred to his mind. For one moment, there was a troubled look in his face.
“Who has put such nonsense into your head, laddie?”
“Oh, I’ve heard them talking about it. But I said I was sure they were wrong.”
“Why, of course they were, dear lad. Why should I leave the school? Haven’t I more reason than ever to work for the Lord?”
“Oh, I’m so glad!” And Willie went home with a bounding heart.
Meanwhile curiosity continued to be felt and expressed on every hand, as to the course “the Golden Shoemaker” would actually pursue; and no little surprise was created as, Sunday after Sunday, he was still seen sitting in the midst of his class, as quietly and modestly as though he were still the poor cobbler whom everybody had known so well.
Nor was he content simply to continue the work he had been accustomed to do for Christ during his previous life. The larger leisure which his wealth had brought, enabled him to multiply his religious and benevolent activities to an almost unlimited extent. He went about doing good from morning to night. He rejoiced to exercise for God the all but boundless influence which his money enabled him to exert. His original plan—which he persistently followed—of mending, free of charge, the boots and shoes of the poorer portion of his former customers was but one amongst many means by which he strove to benefit his necessitous fellowmen. He never gave money for the relief of distress, without ascertaining whether there was anything that he could do personally to help. He made it a point also to offer spiritual consolation to those upon whom he bestowed temporal benefactions. Hardly a day but found him in the abode of poverty, or in the sick-room; and not one of his numberless opportunities of speaking the words which “help and heal” did he let slip.