AN ISLAND GARDEN 49 



yond the Sweet Peas I could see my strong white 

 Lilies springing up, a foot high already, with the 

 splendid hardy Larkspurs behind them, prom- 

 ising a wealth of white and gold and azure by 

 and by. From time to time through the calm 

 morning, as I labored thus peacefully, I heard the 

 loons laughing loud and clear in the stillness, 

 and by lifting my head could see them off the 

 end of the wharf at the landing swimming to and 

 fro with their bright reflections, catching no end 

 of fish and having the most delightful time, 

 every now and then half raising themselves from 

 the water and flapping their wings, showing the 

 dazzling white with which the strong pinions 

 were lined, and laughing again and again with a 

 wild and eerie sound. This means that a storm 

 is coming, I know. But I love to hear them, and 

 how devoutly thankful I am that there is not a 

 creature with a gun on this blessed island ! The 

 loons know it well, or they never would venture 

 in so near, while they shout to the morning their 

 wild cries. 



Near me, where I had made the earth so very 

 wet, suddenly fluttered down a ruddy-breasted 

 barn swallow, the beauty ! for on such heavenly 

 terms are we that he did not mind me in the 

 least as he gathered a tiny load of mud for his 

 nest against the rafters in the barn, and flew away 

 with it low on the wind. The barn swallows do 

 not visit my small inclosure as often as do my 

 nearer neighbors, the white-breasted martins. 



All this time the lovely day was slowly chang- 

 ing its early delicate colors and freshness for the 



