Once there was a man who was very poor. He had to work very hard to get money; but he found it very hard to get money enough to buy bread for himself, and his wife, and his little boy. So he thought he would go and see if he could not sell his little boy. He took him up in his arms, and went out into the street, and walked along until he came to a shoemaker’s shop. He thought that perhaps the shoemaker would like to buy him.

So he stopped and looked in at the window, and said,

“Shoemaker,—Mr. Shoemaker,—do you want to buy a little boy?”

And the shoemaker said, “Is it a good little boy?”

And the man said, “Yes, he is an excellent little boy. He always obeys me exactly, and he is kind and gentle, and not troublesome, and he tries to do right; if you buy him, by and by when he grows up, he can work with you, and help you make shoes.”

“Well,” said the shoemaker, “I will give you a dollar for him.”

“A dollar,” said the man, thinking, “shall I take a dollar for my little boy? Then I should go home alone, and have nobody to play with me, and get up in my lap, and hear me tell stories. No, no, no, I will not sell my little boy for a dollar.” So he walked on.

Presently he came to a carpenter’s shop. He stopped at the window, and said,

“Carpenter,—Mr. Carpenter,—should you like to buy a little boy?”

“A little boy!” said the carpenter; “what sort of a boy is he?”

“Oh,” said the man, “he is an excellent little boy. I love him very much, but I have to sell him because I want some money to buy me some bread. But he is a good boy. He is obedient and faithful, and when he grows up he can help you saw boards and drive nails. The shoemaker offered me a dollar, but I could not sell him for a dollar.”

“Well,” said the carpenter, “I will give you ten dollars for him, for he looks like a pretty good boy.”

“Ten dollars,” said the man, thinking, “ten dollars. Shall I sell my little boy for ten dollars? That would buy me a good deal of bread, but then I should not have any little boy. I should have nobody to come and meet me when I get home, or to sit still by my side when I am tired. No, no, no, I cannot sell my little boy for ten dollars.” So he left the carpenter’s and walked on.

The next place he came to was a mill. There was a great wheel spinning round and round in the water, and some carts filled with bags of wheat at the door. They were going to grind the wheat into flour. The miller came out to the door. His clothes looked white. The man said to him,

“Miller,—Mr. Miller,—I have got a boy to sell. Do you want to buy him?” As he said this he showed the miller the little boy who was in his arms.

“Is he a good boy, or a naughty boy?” asked the miller; “for I am sure I do not want to buy any naughty boys.”

“Oh, he is a very good boy,” said the man. “He does not cry, only when he hurts himself, and then he stops crying as soon as he can. He is not cross, or fretful, or disobedient, or troublesome. I know you will like him, and he will help you a good deal in your mill.”

“Well,” said the miller, “I think he is a good boy, and I should like a good boy in my mill very much. He could tie up the bags, and hold the horses at the door. I will give you a hundred dollars for him.”

“A hundred dollars!” said the man, “that’s a good deal of money. I could buy a great many loaves of bread with a hundred dollars. I could buy bread enough to last me a year, and as long as the money should last I could have a fine time resting from all my hard work. But then I should never see my poor little boy any more. And then perhaps, he would not be happy with the miller. He may have to work too hard, and perhaps some of the horses which he would have to hold might kick him. No, I will not sell him to the miller for a hundred dollars, after all. I had rather carry him home, and work the harder.”

So he left the miller and walked on. He thought that perhaps somebody would give him more money for his boy. He walked on a little way and came to a large, beautiful white house by the side of the road. It belonged to a rich gentleman, who was standing at the door.

He thought he would go and offer him to this rich gentleman. While he was hesitating, he looked into his little boy’s face, and he was so pleasant, and looked so gentle and kind, that the man could not bear to sell him.

“No, no, no,” said he, “I will not sell my little boy at all. I have kept him a good while, and taken care of him, and I love him very much. No, I will not sell him. I will carry him home, and work very hard to get bread for him to eat. And he will be kind, and dutiful, and obedient, and when I grow old perhaps he will take care of me. No, no, I would not sell him for a thousand dollars.”

This is a fictitious story. It is written to teach children that if they are good, and kind, and obedient, their fathers will love them, and work hard, if necessary, to get them bread, and will not sell them, even if any body should offer them a thousand dollars.