Different Ways by MARTHA E. WARNER

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · May 4, 1916

Different Ways

By MARTHA E. WARNER

MARTHA E. WARNER

“Now for a good visit,” said May to auntie, who was playing with little Mildred. As she finished speaking, a neighbor was ushered in, who, after being seated, held out her arms to the child, saying, “Come here, my honey, and let me love you.”

As soon as the child was in her arms, she said, “What beautiful eyes Mildred has. She will break somebody’s heart with them some day.”

“A year from now it will not do to tell Mildred she has beautiful eyes,” said auntie.

“Nonsense,” the caller answered, “when my girl was three years old, I began to tell her how pretty she was, and how beautiful her eyes were. She has always heard it, and now when others tell her she is pretty, she knows it, and it does not turn her head.”

In another home auntie was visiting with the mother, when a little boy, who had just returned from a trip with his father, marched up to them, and said, “Look at my eyes, please.” The mother looked long and steadily into his eyes, and said, “Why, they seem all right, dear.”

Stamping his little foot, he said, “Look again! Every one, ’cept you, tells me I have pretty eyes. One lady said I had the beautifulest eyes of any boy in the whole world. Now I want you to look at my beautiful eyes!”

Auntie was much surprised to hear the mother say, “Son, will you fetch the hand glass and the box of buttons to mother?” The child obeyed promptly. The mother took a button, and held it near the child’s eye, saying, “Look in the glass, son, and tell me whether that is the color of your eye.” At a glance he saw that it was not, and so they tried many buttons of different colors. Finally a blue one was found, which was almost a perfect match. “We have it now, mother!” the child exclaimed. “Yes,” answered the mother, “I think we have. That button was a dark blue, but repeated washings have faded it until the color matches your eyes. I always liked that button, but I never thought it was beautiful. You put it in your pocket; then you can see at any time the color of your eyes.”

The child put the button in his pocket. He was very quiet the rest of the day. At different times he was seen with the glass, looking first at his eyes, then at the button. At bedtime he said, “Say, mamma, eyes like a faded button are not so very beautiful, after all. I guess God made our eyes different colors so we wouldn’t look alike. I’m going to thank him ’cause he gives me my eyes, and I don’t care what color they are.”

“Remember, my son,” the mother answered, “if you would have beautiful eyes, you must keep your heart pure.”

Only once after that did the mother ever hear the child refer to his eyes. At a reception a woman said to him, “Do you know what beautiful eyes you have? I wish I had such pretty eyes.

“My eyes,” the child answered, “are the color of this,” and he held the button in his hand; “and if you want pretty eyes, you must think pure things in your heart. My mamma says so.”