230 BESIDE THE GEE AT SALT LAKE. 



and peeping out from under them were flowers, 

 dainty wildings we had not before seen there. 

 A bit of the tropics or a gem out of fairyland 

 it looked to our sun and sand weary eyes. Out- 

 side were the burning sun of June, a withering 

 hot wind, and yellow and dead vegetation ; 

 within was cool greenness and a mere rustle of 

 leaves whispering of the gale. It was the love- 

 liest bit of greenery we saw on the shores of 

 the Great Salt Lake. It was marvelous ; it was 

 almost uncanny. 



Our daily trips to the pasture had ceased, 

 and other birds and other nests had occupied 

 our thoughts for a week or two, when we re- 

 solved to pay a last visit to our old haunts, to 

 see if we could learn anything of the magpies. 

 We went through the pasture, led by the voices 

 of the birds away over to the farther side, and 

 there, across another fenced pasture, we heard 

 them plainly, calling and chattering and making 

 much noise, but in different tones from any we 

 had heard before. Evidently a magpie nursery 

 had been established over there. We fancied 

 we could distinguish maternal reproof and lov- 

 ing baby talk, beside the weaker voices of the 

 young, and we went home rejoicing to believe, 

 that in spite of nest robbers, and the fright we 

 had given them, some young magpies were grow- 

 ing up to enliven the world another summer. 



