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Show FOE LITTLE FOLKS. "The Boy Preacher." Eight-year-old Robert Richter, called by his familiars Little Bobbie and publicly pub-licly known as the Boy Preacher, filled the pulpit yesterday morning of the North New York Congregational church in East One Hundred and Forty-third street, near Willis avenue. He filled it admirably, too, not physically, phys-ically, of course, for he had to stand on a box to. bring his diminutive nura. Ww n 'J fs Into view, but his brief sermon, though unpretentious, was a rather worthy effort ef-fort in its way. It is a quaint little church where Little Lit-tle Bobby held forth everything plain and simple, with a general pervading air of suburban rusticity. A small family organ furnishes the music, and the congregation does the singing. Little Bobbie was attired in a purple velvet suit, with ruffles and frills, long brown leggings, low shoes, with ribbon bows and buckles, and his brown hair was carefully combed. When the preliminary pervice of prayer and singing, conducted by the pastor, the Rev. Mr. T. McElveen, was over, Little Bobbie slipped gracefully from his chair, stepped up on his box pedestal and began his sermon. In an easy, offhand way he announced his text. It was a tiny figure that faced the audience, and the voice was a childish treble, but every word was distinct, and the tone was energetic. At times he brought down his little fist with a whack upon the pulpit to emphasize what he said. With rapt and almost reverent attention the audience listened to his words of wisdom. "1 shall speak," he began, "of the boyhood of Jesus." He was listened to with marked attention, and his sermon ser-mon showed careful preparation and an understanding which seems almost impossible im-possible to one of his age. A beautiful bouquet was presented to the preacher at the close of bis discourse. New York Herald. |