a handsome case, and would, undoubtedly,
have been a becoming perch for a bird of my dignified appearance, but I
will not describe it to-day. Nor will I speak of my meditations as I sit
in my Ivy Bush like any other common owl, and reflect that if I had not
had my own way, but had listened to Little Miss, I might have sat on an
Eight-day Clock, and been godfather to the children. It is not seemly
for an owl to doubt his own wisdom, but as I have taken upon me, for the
sake of Little Miss, to be a child's counsellor, I will just observe,
in passing, that though it is very satisfactory at the time to get your
own way, you may live to wish that you had taken other folk's advice
instead.

[Illustration]

From that nursery I have taken flight to others. I sail by the windows,
and throw a searching eye through these bars which are, I believe,
placed there to keep top-heavy babies from tumbling out. Sometimes I
peer down the chimney. From the nook of a wall or the hollow of a tree,
I overlook the children's gardens and playgrounds. I have an eye to
several schools, and I fancy (though I may be wrong) that I should look
well seated on the top of an easel--just above the black-board, with a
piece of chalk in my feathery foot.

Not that I have any notion of playing school-master, or even of advising
school-masters and parents how to make their children good and wise. I
am the Children's Owl--their very own--and all my good advice is
intended to help them to improve themselves.

It is wonderful how children _do_ sometimes improve! I knew a fine
little fellow, much made of by his family and friends, who used to be so
peevish about all the little ups and downs of life, and had such a
lamentable whine in his voice when he was thwarted in any trifle, that
if you had heard without seeing him, you'd have sworn that the most
miserable wretch in the world was bewailing the worst of catastrophes
with failing breath. And all the while there was not a handsomer,
healthier, better fed, better bred, better dressed, and more dearly
loved little boy in all the parish. When you might have thought, by the
sound of it, that some starving skeleton of a creature was moaning for a
bit of bread, the young gentleman was only sobbing through the soap and
lifting his voice above the towels, because Nurse would wash his fair
rosy cheeks. And when cries like those of one vanquished in battle and
begging and praying for his life, rang through the hall an