The common consent of all nations seems to have been not very complimentary to the owls.

One word more. In the ancient pharmacopoeia, which, by the way, savoured not a little of magic, the owl appears to have been "great medicine." Thus, the feet of the bubo, burnt with the herb plumbago, were held to be a help against serpents. If the heart of the bird was placed on the left breast of a sleeping beauty, it made her tell all her secrets; but the warrior who carried it was strengthened in battle. A bubo's egg and the blood of its nestlings appear to have been as efficacious in preserving the hair and making it curl, as

Pliny, indeed, begs to know, who ever saw a bubo's egg, inasmuch as the bird itself was a prodigy, and he further inquires who could try it, especially upon his hair? But he cannot deny that the ashes of an owl's eyes mixed into a collyrium gave clearness to the sight, and that those of its head with ointment, were good against disorders of the spleen.

And so much for fable.

This is the dark side of the picture. Those who care to see the brighter side may find a more amiable and natural character of the bird of wisdom in our next chapter.

But why is the owl dubbed the Bird of Wisdom?

Because it is the only bird that looks straight forward.

OWLS.

"The lark is but a bumpkin fowl,
He sleeps in his nest till morn;
But my blessing upon the jolly owl
That all night blows his horn."

KENILWORTH.

So doubtless thought and felt the Fly-by-night Club, who bore on their seal-rings the owl for a device, with an appropriate legend, and thereby hangs a tale.

It was widely whispered that the posy first adopted by these minions of the moon was Nocte fugimus, but one of the jolly companions, who had attended to his verbs with a little more profit than his co-mates, hinted that those winged words might convey a very unclub-like notion of their prowess when confronted with the Charlies who then made night hideous, and suggested Nocte volamus, as more germane to the matter; which motto was engraved accordingly.

By the way, how the first verse of Master Goldthred's morsel of melody reminds one of the old well-known glee—

"Of all the brave birds that ever I see,

The owl is the wisest in his degree;
For all the day long he sits in a tree,
But when the night comes away flies he;"

or, as it has been classically rendered-though we do not find it in the Arundines Cami

"Ex omnibus avibus quos video
Sapientissimus est bubo;
Nam sedet in arbore totâ die,
At cum nox venit, volat ille."

Which ought to have been chanted-perhaps it was-as the evening hymn of the volatile association aforesaid, as "Glorious Apollo," commences the harmonies of the Glee Club:-but we

proceed, according to our pledge, to a consideration of the bright side of the character of the "bonny, bonny owl."

And first, turn we to the pages of Aldrovandi. There we find in the second chapter of his eighth book, under the heading De Bubone, and in the middle of the page, the word

DIGNITAS

in grand Roman capitals. And what word more appropriate? What presence among the feathered bipeds is more dignified than that of the great horned owl, Le Grand Duc, as he is most appropriately named in the kingdom of Clovis? Who can look at his feathered highness, as he sits solemn and sedate, without inquiring,

"What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight?"

A question to be presently answered.

Well is he termed the eagle-owl. If Jove assumed the shape of the eagle, did not Juno select that of the eagle-owl for her mutation ? For, as the learned Italian remarks, it was not decorous that the Queen of Heaven should take on herself the likeness of any small or vulgar bird, but rather that she should be embodied in one whose reign by night was coequal with that of the eagle by day-one that, if some ancient narratives be true, had not only occasionally resisted the royal bird, but contended with him so stoutly, as to leave the conflict doubtful.

Then the art military with which his grand ducal château, on some towering precipitous rock, is fortified against the only danger he fears—the attacks of man-for the brave bird

"Dallies with the wind and scorns the sun,"

betokens deep design and counsel, and a lofty spirit withal.

'But he is a bird of evil omen according to your own showing in your last." True, gentle reader, you who do me the honour to remember the tediousness bestowed upon you—but audi alteram partem ; in plain English, there are two sides to a case.

When Agrippa, persecuted by Tiberius, was fast bound to a tree awaiting his fate, did not the German augur, who stood beside him languishing in the like bonds, cast his eyes upwards and behold a horned owl perched in silence upon the branches, and did not he comfort the discarded favourite with the assurance that his chains should be loosened, and that he should escape to become King of the Jews, and leave children who should enjoy the kingdom after him-adding, however, by way of a cooler, that if, on the other hand, the bird still continued to hang over

his head next day, his fate was sealed, and his death might be looked for within five days,-and did not Agrippa escape from the fatal tree in good time and become King of Judæa, and did not his children reign after him? Inquire of Josephus and others, so please you, if you have any doubt.

Should this testimony be deemed to be somewhat inconclusive, cutting both ways, as the lawyers say, no one will call in question the fact, that the horned owl was held in high honour as a sacred and fortunate bird by the Tartars, who wore its feathers in their caps as a talisman to ensure success, and why?

It once happened that the Khan of Khans had taken refuge from his enemies in a thicket. They followed with hot pursuit and came straight upon his hiding-place; but there sat a guardian cherub in the shape of this noble bird, and they believing that it would never rest quiet if any man were hidden near, passed by with unbloodied scimitars. In the silence of the ensuing night the Khan made his way to his delighted followers, told them the cause of his safety, and filled them with a reverential love for the bird, that became national. The Khan had, on this occasion, as much reason for saying, "Long live the Grand Duke," as the bird had, on another occasion to cry, "Long live Sultan Mahmoud.'

Then, with regard to the race in general, if the Romans had their eagle, the Athenians had their owl. Who shall deny that the last-named biped was the bird of Minerva ? If any such there be, let him go to the well-arranged British Museum, where in the second room, allotted to Greek and Roman sculptures, he will find a colossal head of the goddess with an owl standing sentinel on each side of her helmet. Nor did the Romans themselves disdain the owl, at least after the Acropolis was invaded by the statue of Augustus-if ever one stood there.* On the reverse of a coin of Trajan, a large owl sits on a column of elegant proportions, rising from a plinth; and on the reverse of another of Hadrian, the bird resting on a shield is associated with a peacock, and Rome's own eagle grasping a fulmen.† If we descend to humble life, we find the owl depicted riding at its ease on the frame carried by the man in the Fullonica at Pompeii: whether to show that the establishment was under the protection of the tutelary goddess of the loom, or introduced as the familiar of the house, we leave the learned to determine.

* See Leake's "Topography of Athens."

Consult the excellent "Descriptive Catalogue of a Cabinet of Roman Imperial large brass Medals," by Captain William Henry Smyth, R.N., &c. &c.

F

With regard to our own legends, we have referred to that which says that the owl was a baker's daughter: but the nurseries of our time made her the offspring of an Earl, transformed for disobedience and condemned to cry,

Oh!-hoo-hoo-my feet are cold.*

Nay, the north-country nurses, according to Nuttall, would have it that she was no less than the daughter of Pharaoh, and when they heard the owl hoot on a winter's night, would sing to the admiring child,

I once was a king's daughter, and sat on my father's knee,
But now I'm a poor Hoolet, and hide in a hollow tree.

But we must now introduce those whose owlogical education has been imperfect, to a nearer acquaintance with the organization of this genus; and although this is no place for searching physiological inquiry, we hope to be pardoned for sketching out the adaptation of the form to the wants and enjoyments of the

creature.

He who delights in contrasts, need seek none more striking among birds than that exhibited by a swan and an owl. The first with a picturesque profile proudly crowning a neck so beautifully long and graceful as to rivet the attention of the veriest Cymon of a spectator; the last with a great round head, looking almost as if it were made for a hat, and a flat face, placed apparently, upon no neck at all. The long and flexible neck of the swan is ever and anon elegantly dipped into the wave, as the spotless living gondola glides over its surface, to crop the subaqueous herbage. The disk-like face of the owl turns upon the short-neck like a pivot, to catch and concentrate every twilight ray and arrest every sound, even that made by

The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor;

and the bird, no doubt, derives some of its ill-omened repute from the size of the organs of vision set in this concentrating facial disk. Great staring, goggle, or saucer-eyes are popularly attributed to goblins and demons, and are prominent features in a tale of terror. One word upon the conformation of these organs, which give fulness and breadth to the head, and impart to it somewhat of an intellectual character. The eyeball is supported

Consult Waterton.