Once, when I was in England, I visited some friends, who lived in a pleasant part of the country. They had a fine old house, filled with all sorts of beautiful things; but nothing in-doors was so delightful as the wide, green lawn, with its smooth, soft turf, and the garden, with its laburnums, and lilies, and violets, and hosts on hosts of roses. There was a pretty silvery fountain playing among the flowers, so close to a little bower of honey-suckles that the butterflies fluttering about them had to be very careful, or the first they knew, they got their wings soaked through and through with spray.

About the house and grounds were all kinds of beautiful pets—greyhounds, and spaniels, and lap-dogs, and rare white kittens; gay parrots, and silver pheasants, and sweet-singing canaries; but here, in this pleasantest spot, right under the honeysuckle-bower, all alone by himself, in a large green cage, sat an ugly gray owl. He was the crossest, surliest old fellow I ever saw in all my life. I tried very hard to make friends with him—but it was of no use; he never treated me with decent civility; and one day, when I was offering him a bit of cake, he caught my finger and bit it till it bled; and I said to Mrs. M——,

"What do you keep that cross old creature for?"

I noticed that my friend looked sad, when she answered me and said—

"We only keep him for our dear little Minnie's sake—he was her pet."

Now I had never heard of her little Minnie—so I asked about her, and was told this story:—

Minnie was a sweet, gentle little girl, who loved everybody, and every creature that God had made—and everybody and every creature she met loved her. Rough people were gentle to her, and cross people were kindly; she could go straight up to vicious horses, and fierce dogs, and spiteful cats, and they would become quiet and mild directly. I don't think that anything could resist her loving ways, unless it were a mad bull or a setting-hen.

One night, as Minnie lay awake in her bed, in the nursery, listening to a summer rain, she heard a strange fluttering and scratching in the chimney, and she called to her nurse, and said,

"Biddy! what is that funny noise up there?"

Biddy listened a moment, and said,

"Sure it's nothing but a stray rook. Now he's quite gone away—so go to sleep wid ye, my darling!"

Minnie tried to go to sleep, like a good girl; but after awhile she heard that sound again, and presently something came fluttering and scratching right down into the grate, and out into the room! Minnie called again to Biddy; but Biddy was tired and sleepy, and wouldn't wake up. It was so dark that Minnie could see nothing, and she felt a little strange; but she was no coward, and as the bird seemed very quiet, she went to sleep again after awhile, and dreamed that great flocks of rooks were flying over her, slowly, slowly, and making the darkness with their jet black wings.

She woke very early in the morning, and the first thing she saw was a great gray owl, perched on the bed-post at her feet, staring at her with his big, round eyes. He did not fly off when she started up in bed, but only ruffled up his feathers, and said—

"Who!"

Minnie had never seen an owl before; but she was not afraid, and she answered merrily,

"You'd better say 'Who!' Why who are you, yourself, you queer old Wonder-Eyes?"

Then she woke Biddy, who was dreadfully frightened, and called up the butler, who caught the owl, and put him in a cage.

This strange bird was always rather ill-natured and gruff, to everybody but Minnie—he seemed to take kindly to her, from the first. So he was called "Minnie's pet," and nobody disputed her right to him. He would take food from her little hand and never peck her; he would perch on her shoulder and let her take him on an airing round the garden; and sometimes he would sit and watch her studying her lessons, and look as wise and solemn as a learned professor, till he would fall to winking and blinking, and go off into a sound sleep.

Minnie grew really fond of this pet, grave and unsocial as he was; but she always called him by the funny name she had given him first—"Old Wonder-Eyes!"

In the winter time little Minnie was taken ill, and she grew worse and worse, till her friends all knew that she was going to leave them very soon. Darling little Minnie was not sorry to die. As she had loved everybody and every creature that God had made, she could not help loving God, and she was not afraid to go to Him when He called her.

The day before she died, she gave all her pets to her brothers and sisters, but she said to her mother—"You take good care of poor old Wonder-Eyes—for he'll have nobody to love him when I am gone."

The owl missed Minnie very much; whenever he heard any one coming, he would cry "Who!" and when he found it wasn't his friend, he would ruffle up his feathers, and look as though he felt himself insulted. He grew crosser and crosser every day, till there would have been no bearing with him, if it had not been for the memory of Minnie.

The next time I saw the old owl, sitting glaring and growling on his perch, I understood why he was so unhappy and sullen. My heart ached for him—but so did the finger he had bitten; and I did not venture very near to tell him how sorry I was for him. When I think of him now, I don't blame him, but pity him for his crossness; and I always say to myself—"Poor old Wonder-Eyes!"