OUR VALLEY. 15 



our feathered neighbors — how they must have 

 wished it would last all through the hot summer 

 months! As I rode through the long grass on 

 the edge of the pond, dark water snakes often 

 wriggled away from under Canello's feet; but he 

 evidently knew they were harmless, for he paid 

 no attention to them, though he was mortally 

 afraid of rattlers. I did not like the feeling that 

 any snake, however innocent, was under my feet, 

 so would pull him up out of the grass onto a flat 

 rock overlooking the pond. 



In the fresh part of the morning, before the 

 fog had entirely melted away, the round pool at 

 our feet mirrored the blue sky and the small 

 white clouds. If a breath of wind ruffled the 

 water into lines, in a moment more it was spark- 

 lino-. Alone; the margin of the water was a bor- 

 der of wild flowers, pink, purple, and gold ; on one 

 side stood a group of sycamores, their twisted 

 trunks white in the morning sun and their branches 

 full of singing birds ; while away to the south a 

 line of dark blue undulating hills was crowned by 

 the peak from which we had looked off on the 

 mountains of Mexico. The air was ringing with 

 songs, the sycamores were noisy with the chatter 

 of blackbirds and bee-birds, and the bushes were 

 full of sparrows. 



There was an elder on the edge of the pond, 

 and the bathers flew to this and then flitted down 

 to the water ; and when they flew up afterwards, 



