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 ugly and a genuine tender solicitude for all.
Even when the youth became a man perplexed by business and political problems his 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 hunting 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, helpless 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 comfort of free homes protected by law.
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