“Here is One-eyed John,” said Louis to himself, “One-eyed John, known all about here for his ignorance; he has never in his life opened a book, and he glories in the fact; he can’t sign his name; and he rejects with mulish obstinacy every wise suggestion. At this very moment he is urging on the children against that poor owl he has just nailed to his door, and to make them think there is some reason why he should be so cruel he tells them it is a graveyard bird, a bad-luck bird that brings misfortune to people. According to his account the owl is an evil creature, full of malice, and deserves no pity. We must punish it for its wickedness, make it suffer torments as an example to others of its kind, and put it to death without mercy. But what if just the opposite of all this should be true? What if the owl were really a harmless creature or even a very useful one and worthy of our protection? I must find out.” Accordingly, that evening at Uncle Paul’s this was the first thing he asked about. At Louis’s description of the tortured owl Uncle Paul at once recognized its species. “The bird that John thought he must nail alive to his door,” said he, “is the belfry-owl, also called the barn-owl. The unfortunate creature in no way deserved the frightful treatment it received. I pity it for having fallen into hands made cruel by ignorance. Stupidity and malice go together, they say; and it is very true. He who is ignorant is deliberately cruel. Wild and foolish things are said against the barn-owl, and John repeated them. Having heard them from some one else, he now, in his turn, passes them on to the street urchins who were so eager to put out the bird’s eyes. It is not true that the barn-owl flies into churches and drinks the oil from the lamp that is kept lighted night and day in the sanctuary; it is not true that it laughs when it hears the passing-bell; it is not true that its hooting on the roof of a house means that some one in the house will soon die. False are all the sayings about its evil influence and its predictions of misfortune, and any one who believes these absurd stories simply shows that he has no common sense. We are in God’s hands, my children, and God alone knows when our last hour is to come. Let us pity those feeble-minded persons who believe the owl knows this tremendous secret; let us pity them, but never let us abuse our reasoning powers by believing that an owl, in expressing after its own fashion, on some house-roof, its satisfaction at having caught a mouse, is solemnly foretelling what is going to happen. Uncle Paul’s nephews must henceforth pay not the slightest attention to any such superstitious notions. Let us go on. “What would you say of John if he had taken it into his head to kill his cat by nailing the animal to the door by its fore paws?” “I should say,” answered Louis, “that if rats ever ate him up it would serve him right.”