XXII. 



THE GRAY OWL. THE WILD BIRDS. THE DUMB ANIMAL WISER IN 

 HIS INSTINCTS, THAN MAN IN HIS REASON. THE FoLLT OF CRIME. 



TOWAKDS sundown, as we were floating along the 

 bluff bank of a cove, or little bay indented in the 

 rocky shore of the upper island, I saw sitting among 

 the clustering branches of a scrubby oak, that grew 

 from the crevices in the rocks, a great gray owl, 

 staring with his huge round eyes, with an aspect of 

 profound wisdom at us. The feathers upon each side 

 of his tiger-shaped head, stood up like cat's ears, and 

 his legs were covered with pantalets of down, to the 

 claws. A strangely solemn look, a deeply meditative 

 gravity has the owl, as he stares out from his bush, 

 and one not used to him, would mistake him for the 

 great philosopher of the feathered tribe. That would 

 indeed be a great mistake. He is a sluggish, stupid 

 animal, a living illustration of the adage, that appear- 



