The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1897-04-25

through my veins, my head swan, my
brain reeled with ecstasy, and T was
no longer a soulless chattel Of dull
earth, but a winged spirit Of the
spheres, glowing in the very freedom
OF my own limits. reveling in a new
element; mad, yes, actually mad with
the mere joyousness of motion.
became wondrously proficient I'M
der the tutelage of my own instinct
and fancy 1t has been said Of me in
praise Of my dancing that I am origin
al, that my methods are founded upon
no model, that I am as dancer sui
gener1s. 1t is true. I follow no pre-
cedent: I have never practised regu-
lar step in my life. But have danced
as l have breathed, as a matter of
course and necessity. For one year only
have l been cut off from that natural
outlet of the emotions which arise
within me; and in that year 1 was like
to die.
Also, in those days I had music that
inspired me as music has seldom done
since 1t, too, was a thing Of celestial
realms, unlearned of earth. Inspiration
lodged in Grove Pensy's soul, and it
caught fire from my ardor. Never
was there question Of what time the
old fiddle was to keep, or Of what
movement I wished 1t to make. But
one condition constrained us each
that he should play and 1 should dance.
All else was mere matter Of fortuity.
Oh, those hoursi Oh, those happy,
those beattf1c hours! wen might |
place above your dear old head, Grove
Pensy, q tablet to the memory Of one
who was the sole encourager Of the
talents God had given me!
From the age of fourteen to that Of
seventeen 1 was a regular and secret
visitor and companion of the old shoe
maker. 1 was deft in deceit, and, as
his little shop was in a somewhat
isolated and unfrequented part of the
village, 1t was matter easy Of man
agement for me to journey thither I'M
observed. When occasion demanded
a falsehOOd to account for my being
seen in the street during school hours,
my tongue glibly furnished it forth-so
glibly, indeed. that my untruthfulness
was never detected.
But one day, after I had turned sew
enteen, Fate had iIl-proportioned and
dreadful revenge upon me. 1t was O.
wonderful day in early spring-the first
real promise the season mad given that
summer was advancing. [ was pupil
in the village academy, one of the class
soon to graduate. AS I sat in the ugly
schoOlroOm that morning, surrounded
by pumpkins over their books brea TIL
ing in the close and fetid air, the eX-
halations of many laboring lungs, a
quick and impetuous Impotence got
the better of my circumspection. From
my seat | could look out Of a window
upon the fresh landscape, tender and
tempting in it's bourgeoning bloom. A
thirst for the outside world, for free
dom, movement, action, came upon me,
was working like a fermenting liquor
within my brain, and, If I died for 1t.
I felt I must make the effort to escape
outside and give vent to the energy
that effervesced inside me. Boldly L
rose and approached the august trl~
bunal where Authority sat enthroned
81 feel very ILL., I said; IT must go
home. Please allow me to do So"
Mistress even then of the art of dis
stimulation, my feigned distress imposed
upon the worthy master. My leave
was granted. I constrained my steps
to march decorously from the room;
but, once outside, I flew, I rushed, 7
tore, out Of the building and whittier
my inclinatiOns ever pointed. I burst
in on the old shoemaker like q tornado
"Grove, Grove" I cried; quick
your fiddle! L am mad!-yes, I have
really gone mad with the spring! Let
me dance! Here, I must be all free
todayl Waltz!
And while the old man, accustomed to
my frenzies, went slowly about, put
| ting his work away and getting ready
his instrument, I tore down my chest
nut hair, and, running my fingers
through it, tossed it freely about me
in wanton confusion, until, being curly
of nature it f1oated forth from my per-
son like a cloud.
How long ago that seems-how long!
I look back, and the years that have
passed, the developing process that has
interviewed, the wide interposition of
| UNNECESSARILY altered conditions Of life,
seem to throw upon the rejecting glass
of retrOspection not the well-remem-
bered features of a familiar face, but
the half-forgotten characteristics of a
stranger Am disappointed, dissatis-
fed, disillusioned woman that I am
indeed but the blghted fruitiOn Of that
springing seed Of tncarnate expectancy
which sought so ardently that day TO
thrust aside the dull envelope Of earth
that numbered its various young de-
sires?
Oh, the immeasurable distance be-
tween the germ and the tree; between
promise and fulf1llment; between the
limitless future of youth and the pain
fully circumscribed past Of maturity
Go be cOntinued)