WASHINGTON AND LINCOLN. 



EMUY C. THOMPSON. 



IT is natural that at this time our 

 thoughts should turn toward two 

 of our great national heroes. This 

 month is to us not merely the 

 month of February, marking one of 

 the twelve divisions of our calendar 

 year, but it is a continuous memorial 

 of two of our revered statesmen. We 

 read all we can about our glorified dead, 

 we search the words spoken by them, 

 we visit the places where they toiled 

 for us, and we scan even their homes 

 trying to form a picture of their lives. 

 We do even more. We presume to 

 imagine their thoughts and conjure up 

 the very ideas which might have oc- 

 curred to them as they stood in these 

 spots now hallowed by memories of 

 them. 



It is a fascinating occupation to 

 fathom the characters of truly great 

 men and contemplate their attitude 

 toward various subjects. Sometimes 

 mere conjectures are the fruit of our 

 toil. At other times sure conclusit ns 

 are reached from facts which are 

 brought to light. Stories galore are 

 told of both Lincoln and Washington, 

 which help us more vividly to picture 

 their natures. The question in which 

 we are interested could easily be an- 

 swered if we knew these men, but still 

 as we are acquainted with the mani- 

 festations of their characteristics we 

 can answer it almost as satisfactorily. 

 Did Lincoln and Washington love 

 nature? Could they appreciate her 

 beauties, and did they evince an inter- 

 est in her creations? 



Lincoln in his log-cabin home, split- 

 ting rails, working on the farm, hunting 

 coons, driving the hcvrses and cattle, 

 must have found a glorious opportunity 

 to become acquainted with this great 

 mother of ours. The son of a pioneer 

 who, with his great covered wagon, cat- 

 tle, family, and household belongings, 

 wanders over the country, whose only 

 neighbors for hundreds of miles are the 

 birds in the woods, the rabbits in the 

 field, and the fish in the stream, the son 

 of such a man certainly sees nature as 



few of our city-bred, World's Fair, 

 Paris Exposition young people, can 

 imagine it. Lincoln was content with 

 these, his neighbors. Never do we 

 hear sighs from him and wishes that his 

 lot might be exchanged for that of an- 

 other, even it his lot was toilsome and 

 lonely. Who can tell but he thus im- 

 bibed his love for pure freedom unde- 

 filed and his lofty conceptions of this 

 life in its relation to this world and 

 something beyond? 



We cannot doubt that the great, tall, 

 clumsy lad had a real love in his heart 

 for the little feathered and furry friends 

 about him, and not simply a love for 

 the beautiful ones, but what is far 

 higher a feeling of sympathy even for 

 the ugl}' and a genuine tender solici- 

 tude for all. 



Even when the youth became a man 

 perplexed by business and political 

 problemshis nature remained unaltered. 

 Once when a party of his friends on a 

 judicial circuit stopped to water their 

 horses, Lincoln was not there. His 

 companion on the way was asked of 

 his whereabouts. He replied that the 

 last he had seen of Lincoln he was hunt- 

 ing around for a bird's nest, two of the 

 former occupants of which he held in 

 his hand. The wind had blown the 

 tiny nestlings from their snug little 

 home and the greathearted man was 

 trying to find the nest for the wee, help- 

 less chirpers. The same great heart 

 which felt the human cry of pain as 

 keenly as the bewildered cry of the 

 little birds gave its last throb to restore 

 little black nestlings to the warm com- 

 fort of free homes protected by law. 



There is an amusing incident, told 

 probably as a "good one" upon the 

 politician, but which has more than 

 an amusing side to us. Lincoln was 

 one of a party of ladies and gentlemen, 

 dressed in their best, journeying along 

 a country road. Their attention was 

 arrested by the distressed squealings 

 of a pig. There it was by the roadside, 

 caught in a fence. Of course a general 

 laugh followed. To the astonishment 



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