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 occurred 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 conclusions 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 answered if we knew these men, but still as we are acquainted with the manifestations 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 interest in her creations?

Lincoln in his log-cabin home, splitting rails, working on the farm, hunting coons, driving the horses 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, cattle, 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 another, even if his lot was toilsome and lonely. Who can tell but he thus imbibed his love for pure freedom undefiled 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 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.

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 of all Lincoln, clad as he was, dismounted from his horse and released the poor animal. He could not see even an occupant of the pigsty suffer without feelings of sympathy.

We expect different stories of Washington, a different attitude toward nature and animals, just as the nature of the man was different. Visit Mt. Vernon and at once you feel his relation to the natural world, a love and keen appreciation of the beautiful in nature, with a thorough conviction that where man tampers with the rough beauties of nature a severe orderliness, precision, and care must be manifested.

Seated upon his front veranda, Washington beheld every day a scene of beauty, one gaze at which stays with a stranger for months and for years. The green of his own lawn ending abruptly not far away with the decline of the bluff, the tops of a few trees farther down just visible, and the blue waters of the Potomac bounded in the distance by the bluff of the opposite bank; to the right a carefully mowed lawn sloping away in natural terraces to the bank of the river; to the left a small sward and orchard; behind the house a large green plot. It is to the left of the beautiful, sunny, open space behind the house that the garden is found. Every visitor must spend a few moments there, admiring the hedges, the neatly-trimmed boxtrees, the regular formal designs, and incidentally bidding "Good-day" to the saucy little squirrel who scampers about the paths. It is an interesting spot as revealing what Washington considered the beauty of scenic gardening.

Washington is said to have loved noble horses and to have taken great pride in his stables. He always drove white horses with hoofs painted black. Of dogs, too, he was exceedingly fond and kept an accurate account of the pedigree of every animal belonging to the estate. Usually he drove in a carriage drawn by a span while his family came next in a larger vehicle drawn by four horses. On state occasions he allowed himself the luxury of an elegant coach and six.

Varied are the feelings with which one views the estate of our first president. It is almost impossible in the midst of all this beauty to realize that it was the same man who enjoyed this peaceful home of luxury and spent that awful winter at Valley Forge or crossed the Delaware amid the floating ice. The quiet restfulness of Mt. Vernon must have been a haven of peace to the valiant soldier who faced the enemy so bravely, to the statesman who toiled so assiduously for his country, and to the heart of human sympathy returning even from the cities of 1776.

At the foot of a gentle slope about midway between the house and the boat-landing is the tomb of the Washington family. The very aged, gray resting-place has been exchanged for one of more modern design. An open vault in front with a protection of iron grating and other chambers extending into the earth form the tomb. It is with awe that the visitor approaches the open vault to gaze upon the gray sarcophagi of George and Martha Washington standing out in bold relief against the dark gray walls and background. Few are the letters sculptured upon the stone caskets, but above in the wall behind them is a square slab bearing the words: "I am the resurrection and the life; he that believeth on me shall not perish but have everlasting life."

It is touching to see the tributes which have been paid to this great man, the trees planted in his honor, the monuments erected to his memory, but none is more touching than the unconscious tribute which nature herself is giving. The tomb is silent and cold. One thinks of the sterner qualities of the dead, when a bit of color catches the eye. There above the sarcophagi in a corner of the inscribed tablet nestle two little yellow birds, a fitting tribute of Mother Nature to her love and trustfulness in one of her noblest sons.

England holds the honor of having first formed societies for the prevention of cruelty to animals and of having first legislated for its punishment.