The daily Cairo bulletin. (Cairo, Ill.) 1878-1???, 1883-06-15
The Polly-Dancers,

| 0aby-I remember that one day my
father called me to the low table, which
was just about on level with my eyes,
and said:
"Look at the Polly-dancers"
He had brought in a green pine-twig
from the wood-pile, had cut off half a
dozen brush-like little tufts, had
trimmed their tips and then, blowing
upon them gently, had set them dane
ing about the table as if they were alive.
| They foated this way and that, each
taking its own direction; and when one
moved too near the edge of the table, n
light puff from his lips would send it
back again. They seemed to me like
tiny green-skirted sprites having frolic
together, and ! wholly forgot my rag
babies and my London dolls in my rap
ture over the Polly-dancers.
When | asked where did the Polly
dancers come from?n and was answer
ed, From the woods, whole new,
UNEMPLOYED world rose before me.
There was dark-blue outline against
the sunset, across the river, and al
other line of purple-green in the north,
toward the sea, which | had heard
called ..the woods" The name had
been full of mystery to me, before; but
from that moment it stood out for
wonderland home of the Polly
dancers! How ] longed for the time
when | should be old enough TO 90 TO
the woods! And when one summer day,
year or two after, my brother asked
and gained leave to take me with him
a-berrying, was not happy girl?
The walk was through long street,
past great many houses, and then over
an open, unshaded road But at last
we were there When the cool, lofty
greenness closed us in, and fresh earth
smells came up from the moss and
ferns beneath our feet, ! seemed to
know it all as if | had been there be-
fore. These were really "the woods
Of my dream
Ny brother seated me on a great rock
covered with lichens, and told me not
TO move from the spot until he came for
me. Then he went ont of sight with
his basket, whistling. felt like crying
for loneliness when saw him disappear,
but the stiffness around me inspired
feeling of awe that made me afraid to
utter sound. And presently began
to feel at home in the wonderful place.
There were soft whisperings all about
me, that seemed like kind voices of un-
seen friendly people. rustlings as OF Cos
samer garments,
Nothing would have tempted me from
g.. I 10 s ,l,, ND
gnomcs and fairies, and | firmly be-
lieved in them. They always lived in
the woods; and though | would gladly
have stepped inside fairy-ring, just
once, would not for worlds have done
so without first feeling my hand fat in
my brothers, else | was sure should
never see home again. But he did not
believe in fairies, and soon forgot that
did as listened to the songof the Pol
ly-dancers.
For there they were, thousands and
tens of thousands of them, up in those
great trees, dancing with their feet out
TO the sky, and making such music to-
gether, low, sweet and solemn! ! have
never forgotten how it sounded to me
that first time heard it. 1t seemed to
tell me that the world was a larger and
lovelier place than had dreamed. and
that it would always have awaiting me
something grander than | could guess.
OF course, had no words for my feel
ings then; did not even know that
was having feelings at all A child
never does, until long afterward But
the feelings come back, and we remem.
Der the moments when we began to be
acquainted with the world and with our.
selves
My brother and | walked home, two
merry, tired, matter-of-fact children. He
had left me only a half-hour or so alone:
and he did not coniide to me until we
were almost home that his basket,
which seemed brimful of huckleberries,
was really crammed with fresh leaves
and that there was only thin layer on
the top, remember thinking what re.
markable boy he was to have conceived
such clever artiiice. But he had not
liked either TO take me into the bushos
or to leave me long alone; and he did
not leave me long alone; and he did no,
wish toappear unsuccessful in his search
for berries, if he should chance to pas,
other boys. He little dreamed how
much more than berries had found /,
the woods that day lucy Larcom /,