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Show u AN OBJECT LESSON. It was cold December night, and as I walked briskly along Broadway, I turned up the collar and fastened the top button of my overcoat. "Extra! Extra! Buy a paper, sir?" chirped a shrill voice at my elbow, while a small hand with a paper in it thrust invitingly before me. "What for?" I asked banteringly, glancing down at the little figure, vainly trying to keep pace with me. "For a cent!" came the ready reply. I produced the desired coin, and took a second look at the persuasive small boy. He appeared to be about ten years of age. A round cap, minus its peak, surmounted a generous growth of bright red hair, and two large intelligent brown eyes gazed up at me from a very clean face. A much-worn much-worn pair of shoes, patched and faded knickerbockers and neatly brushed thread-bare jacket completed his attire. at-tire. "Why, bless me!" I ejaculated, my attention arrested by the unusual appearance ap-pearance of this last-named garment: "What do you call those decorations on your jacket?" The little felolw looked at me searchingly, hesitated a moment, then answered quietly, "They're reminders." remind-ers." "Reminders!" I repeated, in respectful respect-ful amazement. They looked to me like a miscellaneous collection of old buttons. My curiosity aroused, I desired de-sired to become better acquainted. "Are you cold? How do you like a a bowl of hot coffee?" I inquired. The boy's face brightened at the invitation, in-vitation, but looking down at his dozen or so unsold papers he seemed undecided about accepting it. A bright miarter. however, soon put his scruples o flight. I permitted my youthful companion to act as guide. In a short time we were comfortably seated in a nearby eating house, drinking steaming coffee, cof-fee, and exchanging confidences. Then I learned the story of the buttons. "I'm the only one mother has!" he explained, "and there are some things she says she never wants me to forget. for-get. So I just had her sew these buttons but-tons on my coat. They help me to remember. re-member. "See hew white and clean this first one is? There is 'not a spot or speck on it. It's a pearl button, and means truthfulness. "The next button has the cloth worn off. It looks shabby, but underneath just see how firm and strong it is. It reminds me that it takes more than cloth to make a button. These two little ones mean: 'Never hit a fellow smaller than you are." "A very good maxim for a small boy," I interrupted, approvingly. "This old brass button went through .the war. Mother cut .it off grandfather's grand-father's coat he carried the flag," the boy said proudly. "I like to remember that, you know; it helps an awful lot." At this point the little fellow glanced up inquiringly at the clock which hung close by. He arose immediately. im-mediately. "Mother expects me home at nine.' 'he said, balf apologetically. I made no attempt to detain him. We walked to the door, and with a cheery "Thank you, sir," he left me. Rebuttoning my coat, I stood and watched the manly little figure until the crowd hid him from my sight, a 1 better 'man, I trust, for having met him. Girls' Friendly Magazine. -o |