A MINIATURE PARADISE. 229 



retiring to this shady grove, and, not so observ- 

 ing as the magpies, did not see that it was al- 

 ready occupied. When he was not more than 

 ten feet away, I snatched off my sun hat and 

 waved it before him, not wishing to make a 

 noise. He stopped instantly, stared wildly for 

 a moment, as if he had never seen such an 

 apparition, then wheeled with a snort, flung out 

 his heels in disrespect, and galloped off down 

 the field. 



The incident was insignificant, but the result 

 was curious. So long as we stayed in that bit 

 of brush, not a horse attempted to enter, though 

 they all browsed around outside. They avoided 

 it as if it were haunted, or, as my comrade 

 said, " filled with beckoning forms." Nor was 

 that all ; I have reason to think they never 

 again entered that particular patch of brush, for, 

 some weeks after we had abandoned the study 

 of magpies and the pasture altogether, we found 

 the spot transformed, as if by the wand of en- 

 chantment. From the burned-up desert outside 

 we stepped at once into a miniature paradise, 

 to our surprise, almost our consternation. Ex- 

 cepting the footpaths through it, it bore no 

 appearance of having ever been a thoroughfare. 

 Around the foot of every tree had grown up 

 clumps of ferns or brakes, a yard high, luxu- 

 riant, graceful, and exquisite in form and color ; 



