The Owl-Critic THE OWL-CRITIC 309 "WHO stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop, The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading "Don't you see, Mr. Brown," Cried the youth, with a frown, "How wrong the whole thing is, How preposterous each wing is How flattened the head is, how jammed down the neck is- I've learned owl-eology. I've passed days and nights in a hundred collections, Arising from unskilful fingers that fail To stuff a bird right, from his beak to his tail. Do take that bird down, Or you'll soon be the laughing-stock all over town!" "I've studied owls, And other night-fowls, And I tell you What I know to be true; An owl cannot roost With his limbs so unloosed; No owl in this world Ever had his claws curled, He can't do it, because 'Tis against all bird-laws. Anatomy teaches, That can't turn out so! I've made the white owl my study for years, And to see such a job almost moves me to tears! You should be so gone crazed As to put up a bird In that posture absurd! To look at that owl really brings on a dizziness; The man who stuffed him don't half know his business!" And the barber kept on shaving. "Examine those eyes. I'm filled with surprise Do take that bird down; Have him stuffed again, Brown!" And the barber kept on shaving. "With some sawdust and bark I could stuff in the dark An owl better than that. Than that horrid fowl, Stuck up there so stiff like a side of coarse leather. Just then, with a wink and a sly normal lurch, Life in Laconics Don't waste it again on a live bird, I pray. I'm an owl; you're another. Sir Critic, good day!" 311 James Thomas Fields. WHAT WILL WE DO? WHAT will we do when the good days come- When our neighbours' children have lost their drums- Robert J. Burdette. LIFE IN LACONICS GIVEN a roof, and a taste for rations, And you have the key to the "wealth of nations." Given a boy, a tree, and a hatchet, Given a pair, a snake, and an apple, You make the whole world need a chapel. Given " no cards," broad views, and a hovel, Given symptoms and doctors with potion and pill, That good leads to evil there's no denying: If it were not for truth there would be no lying. "I'm nobody!" should have a hearse; But then, "I'm somebody!" is worse. "Folks say," et cetera! Well, they shouldn't, And if they knew you well, they wouldn't. When you coddle your life, all its vigor and grace Shrink away with the whisper, "We're in the wrong place." Mary Mapes Dodge. ON KNOWING WHEN TO STOP THE Woodchuck told it all about. He dug the cellar smooth and well And satisfied his fancies. L. J. Bridgman. REV. GABE TUCKER'S REMARKS You may notch it on de palin's as a mighty resky plan Thursday 313 I think a man has got a mighty slender chance for heben Dat talks about de sinners wid a heap o' solemn chat, Dat's foremost in de meetin'-house for raisin' all de chunes, I nebber judge o' people dat I meets along de way By de places whar dey come fum an' de houses whar dey stay; An' you finds de smalles' possum up de bigges' kind o' tree! Unknown. THURSDAY THE sun was setting, and vespers done; Ev'ry hook had a bait so fine, And thus they sang in the even shine: "Oh, to-morrow will be Friday, so we'll fish the stream to-day! Oh, to-morrow will be Friday, so we'll fish the stream to-day! Benedicite!" So down they sate by the river's brim, They fish'd the stream till the moon was high, But never a fish came wand'ring by. They fish'd the stream in the bright moonshine, And the Abbot said, "It seems to me |