THE PROFESSOR. 
6 / 
I confess, were I disposed to pry into what is 
none of my affairs, I should wonder what such 
lively little creatures as the prairie dogs are, can 
find attractive in those stupid-looking owls ! 
They sit on the edge of the little mound, with 
their eyes half-closed, and their wings folded 
together; so they look, for all the world, like 
rusty, snuff-colored, swallow-tailed coats ; and 
one can only think of weazen, near-sighted pro- 
fessors of some abstruse science, who are out for 
an airing, and look instinctively for the end of 
the well-worn umbrella that ought to appear at 
their side ! 
They seem to be forever meditating upon that 
vexed problem, whether the owl had the prece- 
dence of the egg, or the egg the precedence of 
the owl, and to be as far from its satisfactory 
solution as our modern scientists are ! When 
their cogitations are interrupted, they have the 
most absurd way of blinking their eyes, stretch- 
ing out their heads and drawing them back 
again, and then shuffling down into the obscurity 
of those holes they never lifted a claw to dig! 
They seem to be quite too far removed from 
this world to know enough to get out of danger, 
were it not for their bright-eyed, lively little 
companions. They— the cunning little dogs — 
are all curiosity about everything, and not at all 
given to speculation. They pop up on their hind 
