animals. It is chiefly noted for a strange 

 collection I once took out of its maw-like 

 cavity. 



It was a keen January morning, and I stopped 

 at the tree, as usual, and thumped. No lodgers 

 there that day, it seemed. I mounted the rail 

 fence and looked in. Darkness. No ; there at 

 the bottom was a patch of gray, and I pulled 

 out a snapping, blinking screech-owl. Down 

 went my hand again, and a second owl came 

 blinking to the light this one in rich brown 

 plumage. When I turned him up, his clenched 

 claws held fistfuls of possum hair. Once more 

 I pushed my hand down the hole, gingerly, and 

 up to the shoulder. No mistake. Mr. Possum 

 was in there, and after a little manoeuvering I 

 seized him by the collar, and out he came grin- 

 ning, hissing, and winking at the hard, white 

 winter day. 



And how exactly like a possum ! " There is a 

 time for all things," comes near an incarnation 

 in him. There is a time for eating owls at 

 night, of course, if owls can then be had. But 

 day is the time to sleep ; and if owls want to 

 share his bed and roost upon him, all right. He 

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