She put her hand in his to be squeezed. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. But such was the violence of his grief,—such the compunction he exhibited, that all but one looked on with an eye of compassion. We’re different. Though the starling was more than two feet above the level of the water, he alighted with his little charge—which he had never for an instant quitted—in safety upon it. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him.
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