have established a
letter-box for their communications at the Hole in the Tree. No other
address will find me.

It is well known that I am a Bird of Wisdom. I am also an Observing
Bird; and though my young friends may think I see less than I do,
because of my blinking, and because I detest that vulgar glare of bright
light without which some persons do not seem able to see what goes on
around them, I would have children to know that if I can blink on
occasion, and am not apt to let every starer read my counsel in my eyes,
I am wide awake all the same. I am on the look-out when it's so dark
that other folk can't see an inch before their noses, and (a word to the
foolish and naughty!) I can see what is doing behind my back. And
Wiseacre, Observer, and Wide-awake--I am the Children's Owl.

Before I open my mouth on their little affairs, before even I open my
letters (if there are any waiting for me) I will explain how it came
about that I am the Children's Owl.

It is all owing to that little girl; the one with the fluffy hair and
the wise eyes. As an Observer I have noticed that not only I, but other
people, seem to do what she wants, and as a Wiseacre I have reflected
upon it as strange, because her temper is as soft and fluffy as her hair
(which mine is not), and she always seems ready to give way to others
(which is never my case--if I can help it). On the occasion I am about
to speak of, I could _not_ help it.

[Illustration]

It was last summer that that Bad Boy caught me, and squeezed me into a
wicker cage. Little did I think I should ever live to be so poked out,
and rummaged, and torn to shreds by such a thing as a boy! I bit him,
but he got me into the cage and put a cloth over it. Then he took me to
his father, who took me to the front door of the house, where he is
coachman and gardener, and asked for Little Miss to come out and see the
new pet Tom had caught for her.

"It's a nasty-tempered brute, but she's such a one for taming things,"
said the coachman, whipping off the cloth to show me to the housemaid,
and letting in a glare of light that irritated me to a frenzy. I flew at
the housemaid, and she flew into the house. Then I rolled over and
growled and hissed under my beak, and tried to hide my eyes in my
feathers.

"Little Miss won't tame me," I muttered.

[Illustration]

She did not try long. When she heard of me she came running out, the
wind blowing her fluffy hair about her face, and the s