The Long-Eared Owl is hardly tameable. The writer of this paragraph, when a boy, was the possessor, for more than a year, of a very fine specimen. We called him Judge. He was a monster, and of perfect plumage. Although he seemed to have some attachment to the children of the family who fed him, he would not permit himself to be handled by them or by any one in the slightest. Most of his time he spent in his cage, an immense affair, in which he was very comfortable. Occasionally he had a day in the barn with the rats and mice. The owl is of great usefulness to gardener, agriculturist, and landowner alike, for there is not another bird of prey which is so great a destroyer of the enemies of vegetation. [Illustration: GREAT HORNED OWL.] THE OWL. We know not alway Who are kings by day, But the king of the night is the bold brown owl! I wonder why the folks put my picture last in the book. It can't be because they don't like me, for I'm sure I never bother them. I don't eat the farmer's corn like the crow, and no one ever saw me quarrel with other birds. Maybe it is because I can't sing. Well, there are lots of good people that can't sing, and so there are lots of good birds that can't sing. Did you ever see any other bird sit up as straight as I do? I couldn't sit up so straight if I hadn't such long, sharp claws to hold on with. My home is in the woods. Here we owls build our nests--most always in hollow trees. During the day I stay in the nest or sit on a limb. I don't like day time for the light hurts my eyes, but when it begins to grow dark then I like to stir around. All night long I am wide awake and fly about getting food for my little hungry ones. They sleep most of the day and it keeps me busy nearly all night to find them enough to eat. I just finished my night's work when the man came to take my picture. It was getting light and I told him to go to a large stump on the edge of the woods and I would sit for my picture. So here I am. Don't you think I look wise? How do you like my large eyes? If I could smile at you I would, but my face always looks sober. I have a great many cousins and if you really like my picture, I'll have some of them talk to you next month. I don't think any of them have such pretty feathers though. Just see if they have when they come. Well, I must fly back to my perch in the old elm tree. Good-bye. THE OWL. In the hollow tree, in the old gray tower, The spectral owl doth dwell; Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour, But at dusk he's abroad and well! Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him; All mock him outright by day; But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, The boldest will shrink away! O! when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, Then, then, is the reign of the Horned Owl!