YELLOW-BILLED MAGPIES 



hammock-rope ; a pair of red-tailed hawks came 

 and went persistently, as if the place belonged to 

 them ; a flock of grackles chattered in the cow- 

 yard ; quail were calling from the hillside ; a blue- 

 bird perched near me, the very hue of heaven on 

 his wings. Indeed, it was a peaceful, heavenly 

 hour in that little cup of a valley, full of Califor- 

 nia sunshine — an hour I am likely to remember. 



I came away, leaving the two magpies standing 

 in the freshly green grass. A pretty picture. The 

 strange warbler still flitted among the willow 

 branches, singing a bit of a ditty as I passed. And 

 the driver waited at the gate. "I found 'em," 

 said I ; and he seemed to share my happiness. 



And what a pleasant drive it was homeward, 

 with ten thousand things to look at, and all the 

 way the beauty of the valley, the river, and the 

 hills ! I recall with special delight a field brightly 

 purple with wild portulacas. Tiny flowers they 

 are, of the nature of weeds, I suppose ; but in the 

 mass, and in the sun, and by the acre, they make 

 a natural garden such as not even the more fam- 

 ous California poppy can surpass. And hour after 

 hour, whenever there was no compelling cause to 

 look at anything else, I was looking at those two 

 yellow-billed magpies. May no plague come nigh 

 their dwelling. 



